Page 35 of Alpha Charmed

“She brought it to me three days before she died.” Sylvana settles into a chair that seems designed for her small frame. “Sat in that very spot you’re standing and told me everything. Her dreams. Her memories. The danger she knew was coming.”

“She knew she was going to die.”

“She knew someone would try to silence her.” Sylvana’s expression softens—grief, I realize. Long-held and profound. “She hoped I would survive long enough to pass her work to someone who could finish it. Someone brave enough and stubborn enough and foolish enough to challenge centuries of lies.”

“And that’s me?”

“That’s both of you.” Her gaze moves between me and Caius, bright with perception. “The Severing did more damage than you realize yet. It broke the Warding Lines.”

Sylvana nods, a single slow dip of her head. Something settles in her expression—a deep, aching recognition, as if the words confirm a wound she has carried for a very long time. “The journals are correct. It was real, and it was deliberate. Their combined magic rivaled entire councils. That was precisely what the Preservers could not allow.”

She opens the journal, revealing pages covered in Mathilda’s careful handwriting. “The Severing was performed by thirteen witches and shifters who believed they were saving their communities. They didn’t understand what they were doing. Didn’t realize that their ritual would echo through centuries, weakening every generation that came after.”

“And now it’s cracking.” Caius speaks for the first time since we entered, his voice rough. “The pairings are returning. Leire and Aslan. Sakura and Torin.”

“The old magic is healing itself.” Sylvana’s smile returns. “Finding its way back despite everything the Preservers have done to prevent it. And that terrifies them. Terrifies Cordelia and everyone like her.”

“That’s why they killed Mathilda.” The pieces click into place. “She was remembering. Documenting. Preparing to reveal everything.”

“She was going to tell you.” Sylvana holds out the journal. “Everything in here—the truth about the Severing, the location of the original ritual site, the method for undoing what was done. She wanted you to have it. Said you were the only coven leader in generations with the strength to face the truth.”

I take the journal. The leather is warm against my fingers, humming with preserved magic that recognizes my authority.

“There’s more.” Sylvana leans forward, her tone turning grave. “Mathilda found evidence of someone who could tell you everything. Someone who was there when the Severing was performed. Someone who’s been waiting centuries for people brave enough to ask the right questions.”

“Who?”

“Chione the Ancient.” Sylvana’s expression is serious. “The elder dragon who lives deep in the Thornback Mountains. She remembers what we’ve forgotten. She’s the only living being who can confirm everything Mathilda discovered—and tell you how to undo it.”

“Dragons are myths.”

“Dragons are private.” Caius’s hand finds my shoulder. “I’ve heard stories from our oldest pack members. Glimpses in the mountains. Signs that something very old still lives there.”

“Chione is real.” Sylvana fixes me with her penetrating gaze. “And she’s been waiting a very long time for someone to seek her out. Mathilda tried once, ages ago, but wasn’t ready. Couldn’t face what Chione would have told her.”

“Am I ready?”

“That’s not for me to say.” She rises, crossing to where we stand. Despite her age, she moves with a predator’s grace—Caius’s grace, I realize. Family resemblance that transcends generations. “But Mathilda believed you could be. And my grandson clearly believes in you, which is recommendation enough for me.”

She pats Caius’s cheek with affectionate condescension.

“Take her to find Chione. Protect her. And for the love of all the old gods, stop staring at each other across council rooms and make an actual move before I die of old age wondering if you’ll ever sort yourselves out.”

“Grandmother—”

“Hush.” But she’s smiling, equal parts wicked and warm. “Go. Both of you. The truth won’t wait forever, and neither will I.”

She ushers us toward the door with surprising strength for someone so old. The journal feels heavy in my hands—weighted with secrets and responsibilities and the beginning of answers I’ve been seeking.

We’re almost outside when Sylvana catches my arm.

“One more thing, Coven Leader.” She pitches the words low, meant only for me. “My grandson has been alone at the top for a long time. Carrying the pack’s burdens without anyone to share them. He’s stubborn about asking for help. Stubborn about admitting when he needs someone.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Then you’ve noticed that you’re exactly like him.” Her grip tightens briefly. “Don’t let pride keep you both isolated. Some battles are easier fought side by side.”

She releases me and steps back, her expression returning to its keen neutrality.