Day 13: The False Calm

The morning after Eira severed the connection between herself and Evandra, Thornwick seemed almost peaceful. The thick gray clouds had lifted slightly, allowing a hint of pale sunlight to break through the overcast sky. It was the first time in days that the town felt lighter, as if a veil had been lifted from it. But despite the apparent calm, Eira’s heart was heavy with the knowledge that this was only a temporary reprieve.

She sat at the window, sipping a cup of coffee and watching as a few of the townspeople emerged from their homes. They moved cautiously, still wary of the darkness that had hung over them for so long. It wasn’t over—Eira could feel that truth deep in her bones. The solstice was approaching, and with it, the final confrontation she dreaded.

Lucas arrived soon after, his face drawn but his eyes bright with hope. “I think the town’s starting to heal,” he said, glancing out at the slowly waking streets.

Eira nodded, though her pulse quickened with a sense of impending doom. “For now,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the still-visible mark on her collarbone. It no longer burned with the intensity it had the day before, but it was a constant reminder of the bond she had severed—and the danger that still lurked beneath the surface.

Lucas sat across from her, his eyes scanning her face. “You did it, Eira. You broke the connection. We’re finally free.”

But Eira shook her head, her heart heavy. “No. Not yet. Evandra’s spirit is still out there. The disciples might be weakened, but they haven’t been stopped. The solstice is coming... and I have a feeling that’s when she’ll make her final move.”

Lucas’s expression darkened. “Then we still have time. We can prepare for whatever’s coming.”

Eira wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that the worst was behind them, that the darkness she had fought so hard to dispel was truly gone. But the mark still tingled beneath her skin, and every instinct she had told her that this calm was nothing more than the eye of the storm.

Signs of the Curse

As the day wore on, Eira and Lucas made their way into town, hoping to gather more information from the people who had survived the curse. Many of the townspeople were cautiously optimistic, thankful that the shadow of death had seemingly passed, but there was still an undercurrent of fear in their voices, as if they, too, sensed that the curse had not been fully vanquished.

Eira and Lucas stopped at the general store, where Mrs. Greaves, the store owner, greeted them with a relieved smile. “I was starting to think the curse was never going to lift,” she said, shaking her head as she rang up a few supplies. “But something feels... different today.”

“Different how?” Eira asked, her brow furrowed.

Mrs. Greaves hesitated, her gaze drifting toward the window. “It’s hard to explain. The air feels lighter, yes, but... there’s still something lurking. Like a shadow just out of sight.”

Eira’s pulse quickened. She knew exactly what Mrs. Greaves was describing. The curse hadn’t been fully broken. The connection had been severed, but Evandra’s spirit still lingered, waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Have you seen anything strange? Any signs that the disciples are still around?” Lucas asked, his voice steady but tense.

Mrs. Greaves shook her head. “Not since yesterday. But there was something this morning. I found a wreath hanging on my door when I opened the shop.”

Eira’s stomach dropped. “A wreath?”

Mrs. Greaves nodded, her expression darkening. “It wasn’t like the other ones, though. This one was... broken. Twisted and burnt. I threw it away, but it gave me chills.”

Eira exchanged a glance with Lucas. The twisted wreaths had been the disciples’ calling cards, left behind after each disappearance. But a burnt, broken wreath? That was new.

“It’s a warning,” Eira said softly, her heart racing. “They’re still here.”

The Solstice Looms

The discovery of the burnt wreath unsettled Eira deeply. It was a clear sign that the disciples weren’t done with Thornwick. They were regrouping, gathering strength for the solstice, and Eira knew that time was running out.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the town, Eira and Lucas returned to her house. The tension between them was palpable, their shared fear of what was coming too heavy to ignore.

“We need to figure out what the burnt wreath means,” Lucas said, pacing the living room. “It’s different from the others. More... violent.”

Eira nodded, her mind racing. “It’s a sign that the curse is evolving. The disciples are changing tactics. The burnt wreath could be a symbol of destruction—Evandra’s final act of vengeance.”

Lucas stopped pacing, his face pale. “Do you think it’s tied to the solstice?”

Eira swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. “Yes. The solstice is the most powerful night for dark magic. If Evandra’s spirit is going to make her move, it will be then.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their impending battle pressing down on them.

“Then we have to be ready,” Lucas said firmly. “We have to stop her before she destroys everything.”

Eira nodded, though her stomach twisted with fear. The mark on her skin was still the key, but she didn’t yet understand how to use it in the final confrontation. The severing of the bond had bought them time, but the real fight was still ahead.

The Witch’s Return

That night, Eira struggled to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Evandra’s face, twisted with anger and betrayal, lurking in the shadows of her mind. The burnt wreath weighed heavily on her thoughts, a reminder that the disciples were far from defeated.

In the early hours of the morning, just as dawn was breaking, a sharp knock at the door startled her awake. Her heart raced as she rushed downstairs, her mind immediately fearing the worst.

When she opened the door, her breath caught in her throat.

Standing on the porch, shrouded in the early morning mist, was Evandra.

Her figure was ghostly, her long, dark hair hanging in damp strands around her pale face. Her eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, and her lips twisted into a cruel smile as she stared at Eira.

“I told you,” Evandra whispered, her voice cold and cutting. “You cannot stop what is already in motion.”

Eira’s heart pounded in her chest. “What do you want?”

Evandra’s smile widened, her eyes burning with malice. “I want what was taken from me. And you, my dear, are the final piece.”

Before Eira could react, Evandra’s figure dissolved into the mist, leaving behind only the faint scent of smoke and the sound of her laughter echoing through the empty streets.

Eira slammed the door shut, her body trembling with fear. Evandra’s spirit had manifested. She was here, in Thornwick, and she was preparing to finish what she had started.

The final reckoning was upon them.

The Final Preparation

Eira didn’t waste any time. She called Lucas immediately, her voice shaking as she explained what had happened.

“She was here, Lucas. Evandra’s spirit—she came to my house.”

Lucas’s voice was tense. “What did she say?”

“She said she wants what was taken from her. And I’m the final piece.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then Lucas spoke, his voice filled with determination. “That’s it, Eira. The solstice is the key. Evandra’s spirit is tied to the solstice, and she’s coming for you because you’re the last of Alden’s bloodline. We have to stop her before she can complete the curse.”

Eira’s stomach twisted with fear. “But how? We don’t even know how to stop her.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Lucas said, his voice firm. “We have to. Meet me at the well tonight. That’s where it all started, and that’s where we’ll end it.”

Eira nodded, though her heart pounded with dread. The solstice was just hours away, and the final confrontation was inevitable.

Evandra was coming.

And this time, there would be no escaping her wrath.