บท 21: Chapter 21: Tangled Roots
SIOBHAN
The flat was nearly bursting at the seams, with Nimah's plants spilling off every ledge and surface, turning our little space into something between a jungle and an eccentric witch's hideout.
In the months since Maeve's wedding, Nimah had gone full force with her 'green witch' routine — aloe and rosemary crammed into every corner, herbs strung up by the windows to dry, lavender wafting from bundles hung above the door. She swore it was for "energy balance" and to ward off negativity, but mostly, it just felt like living inside an herb shop that'd gone rogue.
And now, because of Maeve I didn't have time for my own work. The dinner table was bare of my folders, swatches, and sticky notes. In their place was a heap of leather-bound books, ancient scrolls, and brittle papers that Nimah had managed to pull from the Coven's archives. Each one was more cryptic than the last, with enough dust and mystery to make even the most seasoned witch shiver.
Nimah was perched at the table, her fingers trailing over the faded text, occasionally muttering something under her breath as she tried to decipher the twisted symbols and archaic language. She hadn't looked up in nearly an hour.
Meanwhile, I had my phone pressed to my ear, waiting impatiently as it rang on the other end. Bran, one of my younger brothers, finally picked up, sounding frazzled as usual. I didn't even wait for a hello.
"Bran, did you find anything useful yet?" I demanded, pacing a narrow path between the sofa and the wall.
"Hello to you too, Siobhan," Bran replied, his voice tinged with sarcasm. I could picture him, hair in disarray, possibly fumbling with a stack of dusty books in his shop. "I'm still combing through the old family stuff. There's a lot here, alright? You can't rush ancient history."
"Come on, Bran. We're on borrowed time here. The Coven's growing more restless by the day, and the clock's ticking."
I could hear the sigh in his voice as he adjusted the phone. "I know. Look, I did find a few things that might be connected. I'll send you some photos as I go. A couple of old family Bibles, some books with names I don't recognize. Some of it doesn't even look like it's in English."
I groaned inwardly. "Anything that might give us a lead on Maeve's visions? Or at least give us a clue about what exactly the Coven wants from her?"
Bran paused, and I could hear the soft click of a camera shutter on his end as he took photos. "Well, I don't know about that specifically, but there's an old leather-bound book I found shoved at the back of the attic. Looks like it belonged to Ma's grandmother. Full of strange symbols. Some of them match what you showed me. And I'll send photos of some other things from the shop — random books I pulled that might have a connection, but I can't make heads or tails of half of it."
My grip tightened on the phone as I watched Nimah flip through another brittle scroll. This whole thing had been like crawling our way through a dark tunnel with no guarantee there was light at the end. And Maeve? I couldn't shake the worry gnawing at me every time I thought of her.
"Good, send over whatever you have. I'll sift through it. But we're running out of options. If these scrolls and ancient tomes don't offer something concrete soon, we're doomed. I don't want us to be left clueless when the Coven will start pushing back harder. They expect Nimah to manipulate Maeve and you know what they're like when they're impatient."
Bran gave a slight chuckle, but there was a wary edge to it. "Oh, believe me, I know. I still remember the 'incident' with Nimah's aunt and the coven stones. You'd think Nimah had started a war by misplacing a few crystals."
I rolled my eyes. "This is even worse. They've made it clear they want results. And Nimah is their only empath."
Bran was quiet for a moment, and I could hear him shifting things around on his desk, likely sorting through stacks of papers and books as he searched. Finally, he said, "Alright, Siobhan, I'll keep digging. But you're asking for a miracle here. Ancient knowledge, locked away for generations, doesn't just reveal itself on a whim."
Before I could answer, I heard a soft voice in the background on his end, distinctly feminine. My ears pricked up immediately.
"Oh?" I asked, letting my tone dip into casual curiosity. "And who's that I hear with you, Bran? I don't remember you hiring any help at the shop."
Bran hesitated, a little too long for my liking. "Just… a customer," he said, his voice nonchalant but clearly deflecting. "Anyway, about Maeve's visions. Have you managed to get any clearer details out of her?"
I knew when to let things slide, but this wasn't one of those times. I narrowed my eyes, even though he couldn't see me. "A customer, huh? Sounded rather friendly. Anyone I know?"
Bran coughed, dodging the question with the skill of a seasoned expert. "Siobhan, I don't have time for your meddling. Focus. Maeve's visions — how intense have they been?"
I wanted to press him, but he'd steered the conversation so deftly back to Maeve that I felt the question slipping out of my reach. "She hasn't shared every detail, but they're getting more intense. She mentioned strange images, like flashes of… places and people she can't recognize. And it's not like Maeve to rattle easily."
Bran's voice softened, a hint of concern leaking through. "Right. Well, keep her steady, Siobhan. If those visions keep coming, she'll need all the support she can get."
I promised to let him know if anything changed, and with a few more wary exchanges, we ended the call. I tossed my phone onto the table, feeling the familiar frustration knotting in my stomach as I looked over at Nimah, who was still hunched over one of the dusty old scrolls she'd brought home.
Nimah glanced up from her reading, eyebrow raised. "Did Bran find anything?"
"Just the usual collection of old family bibles, some books, and one ancient thing in another language. He'll send over pictures, but I doubt we're going to find anything revolutionary in our great-grandmother's dusty notes."
She sighed, looking back down at the brittle pages in front of her. "And meanwhile, the Coven's breathing down my neck. Every other day, it's another reminder that they're 'looking forward to our progress.'" She let out a hollow laugh. "If only progress included new bread of a rose…"
I crossed my arms, nodding in understanding.
Nimah looked at me, her gaze softening. "You're worried about her, aren't you?"
I shrugged, but I knew I couldn't hide the tension from her. "Of course I am. She's still adjusting to this whole Luna business, but every other day, she's in the papers like she's just another part of Ronan's world. If she's not careful, she's going to lose herself in it."
Nimah gave a small smile, but her tone was serious. "Maeve's tougher than you think. She can adapt to almost anything. And honestly?" She tapped a recent article sprawled across the table, featuring Maeve and Ronan strolling through a local street market, looking for all the world like any ordinary couple. "Maybe she's handling things better than any of us expected."
I scowled, picking up the article and scanning it, a photo of Maeve and Ronan together glaring back at me. There was a warmth in their expressions, something I hadn't seen in Ronan before.
"That may be, but resilience only goes so far. The Coven is demanding results, and Ronan's world is… it's too heavy. He drags everything around him into that weight, and Maeve's too close to that now. I don't want her to become someone she's not."
Nimah didn't respond immediately, her eyes flicking over the scroll in front of her, her mouth set in a small, thoughtful frown. After a moment, she said quietly, "Maybe you're right. But Maeve isn't someone you can shield from everything, Siobhan. She'll dive headfirst if she thinks it's the only way forward."
I sighed, leaning back in my chair, my gaze drifting around the cramped flat. I could practically see Maeve's smile in the corners of the room, her familiar laugh lingering like an echo. This had been her home, and now she was out there, playing Luna and tiptoeing around visions that none of us could understand.
Nimah continued, a soft edge in her voice, "And, honestly? Maeve isn't the only one who might be diving too deep."
I blinked, turning my gaze sharply to her. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She shrugged, but a knowing smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I just mean that maybe Ronan's not as impervious as he wants everyone to think. Even his pack seems to notice he's more… involved than usual."
I huffed, crossing my arms. "Ronan's 'involvement' is all about duty and protecting his reputation. He's used to handling everyone like pawns on a board, and Maeve's no exception. He's probably just worried she'll go off-script and mess up his carefully controlled public image."
Nimah's smile deepened, her gaze shifting back to her scroll, eyes skimming the delicate text with an almost casual disinterest in my tirade. "Oh, is that what it is?"
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