Seventy

Athena

I was in a deep, dreamless sleep when, suddenly, my spirit drifted away from my body. It was the first time in months that I experienced this, and I found myself standing at the entrance of the coven.

Damn it. I hated being here. All eyes turned toward me the second I stepped in, like a thousand burning gazes piercing my skin. It seemed I was the last person to arrive. I hated it here because they always judged me, and I could feel their disdain. Most of them were pure witches who saw me as an outsider. To them, I was unfaithful to the craft, but I didn't give a rat's ass about what they thought about me.

We sat in a circle. I wondered why they couldn’t just leave me alone. My grandmother, Golgotha, watched me closely a few seats away. She didn’t smile or acknowledge me with warmth. She never did. In the coven, there was no room for familial bonds. Here, power came before everything, even blood.

The head of the coven, Queen Mother Zarya, stood tall in the center of the circle.