Evie shot her a look. "Anny, be nice. He's our guest."
Her tone was firm—calm but with an edge that made it clear she wouldn't tolerate rudeness. "He saved me more times than I can count. The least we can do is not bite his head off."
Lucas raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "How ironic."
Anny huffed but didn't argue further. She muttered something under her breath and shuffled off toward the kitchen, leaving Evie to roll her eyes and return to tending Lucas's wound.
"Your Grandma hates me at first sight." Lucas said with a small chuckle.
Evie dipped the cloth into the warm water bowl beside her and gently dabbed at the dried blood on Lucas's cheek. "She hates everyone at first sight," she said, voice dry. "You're just lucky she didn't throw holy water at you."
Lucas tilted his head slightly, letting her clean the cut. "Charming woman. I see where you get your attitude."
Evie gave him a look, but the corner of her mouth curved up. "She's just protective. And stubborn. Thinks the world is still the same as it was fifty years ago."
"She's not wrong to be wary," Lucas said quietly, eyes dropping to his hands. "Most of my kind wouldn't have stepped inside this house without leaving a trail behind."
Evie paused, the cloth still in her hand. "But you're not most of your kind."
Lucas met her gaze. For a moment, there was nothing playful in his eyes—just something old and quiet, like a shadow that had lived too long. "No," he said. "I'm not."
The room fell into a soft silence. The kind that wasn't awkward but thick with things unsaid. Evie busied herself with wrapping gauze around his arm, her fingers brushing against his cool skin, after applying the aid, she left for her room to get an ointment.
Few minutes later, Evie returned with the ointment jar clutched in her hand, her mind still lingering on the strange stillness in Lucas's voice earlier. She pushed the door open with her shoulder, stepping lightly onto the wooden floor of the sitting room.
And froze.
Her breath caught mid-chest.
Across the room, Lucas had her grandmother pinned against the wall, his hand wrapped tightly around Anny's throat. His fingers dug into her neck, not with recklessness, but with precision—like he was holding back the full force of something much darker.
"Lucas?" Her voice came out hoarse. Disbelieving.
His head turned slowly, his expression unreadable, eyes glinting with something unfamiliar. "Stay there, Evie."
But she barely heard him.
Because Anny—wasn't Anny.
Before her very eyes, her grandmother's familiar features began to melt away like wax under a flame. Her soft brown eyes turned an eerie shade of green, veins spidering outward like cracks in broken glass. Her skin dulled to a sickly gray, blistering in some places, sagging grotesquely in others. Her mouth twisted into a sneer, lips stretching thin to reveal rotting teeth, some broken, others missing entirely.
And still, the voice came. Soft, deceptive.
"Vie... dear," the creature rasped, in a tone disturbingly close to Anny's. "Won't you save your own grandmother?"
Evie stumbled back a step, the ointment slipping from her fingers and shattering on the floor.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "No, no, no..."
Her heart pounded in her ears. Every memory she had—the scent of her grandmother's lavender soaps, the way she hummed old lullabies while folding laundry, the stories she told when the nights were stormy—all of it fractured like stained glass struck from behind.
The creature's form contorted again, bones cracking and realigning beneath the skin. Its back hunched unnaturally, giving it a grotesque, vulture-like shape. Long, gnarled fingers clawed at Lucas's wrist, each tipped with blackened, jagged nails. Hair once silver and smooth now fell out in limp, dirty clumps, drifting to the floor like dead petals.
Lucas's jaw clenched, his voice colder than ice. "She's not your grandmother. She's a shell. A puppet. Whatever was left of Anny is long gone."
The creature let out a rasping, gleeful laugh, its forked tongue flicking past cracked lips. "Oh, she screamed so much when I took her," it crooned, voice dripping venom. "Such a stubborn little heart. But even the strongest minds crumble, given time."
Evie's hand flew to her mouth. "Where is she?" she whispered. "Where's my real grandmother?"
The witch didn't answer. It just turned its head slowly toward Evie, a crooked, delighted smile spreading across its disfigured face.
That was all Lucas needed.
In one swift, brutal motion, he twisted. The creature's head snapped to the side with a sickening crack, the sound sharp and final. The scream it let out wasn't human it was something deeper, something that seemed to claw at the walls, shaking the windows, rattling through Evie's bones.
And then it went still.
Lucas let the body fall. It crumpled gracelessly to the rug, limbs bent at unnatural angles. Black blood seeped from the corner of its mouth.
For a long moment, the room was dead silent.
Then Evie dropped.
Her knees buckled, her legs giving way beneath the weight of what she'd just seen. She didn't feel the floor when it hit her. Her eyes were locked on the body that twisted thing wearing her grandmother's apron. Her throat closed around the scream trying to escape. The grief was too big to fit through sound.
Lucas caught her before she could hit the ground completely. He wrapped his arms around her, steady and strong, and lowered her gently onto the rug, keeping her close.
"Credo," he called softly, but firmly. A second later, the coachman appeared in the doorway, silent and grim.
Lucas didn't look up. "Clean this up. Send it to the council. Tell them it's urgent."
Credo gave a single nod before stepping inside, glancing once at the lifeless form before carefully wrapping it in black cloth.
Lucas didn't move until the body was gone. Only then did he stand, lifting Evie in his arms like she weighed nothing.
She was still trembling.
He carried her out the back, through the creaky door, and into the woods behind the cottage. The cold wind brushed against her face, but she didn't flinch. She was too far gone for that. Her cheek rested against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. So calm. So unlike her own.
The trees whispered around them as they walked deeper into the woods, their branches gently swaying, as if mourning with her. The scent of pine filled the air. Distant owls called out, and leaves rustled beneath Lucas's boots. The world had never felt so cruelly beautiful.
He stopped when they reached a clearing. A place where the sunlight filtered in through the canopy, making golden patterns on the forest floor.
Lucas set her down gently. His hand brushed her cheek. "Do you want to sit?"
Evie shook her head.
Her voice barely broke the quiet. "Do you think… she's dead?"
Lucas hesitated. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, the movement slow and deliberate. "I don't want to give you false hope," he said at last. "For a witch to possess someone like that—to live in her memories, wear her smile—it usually means the person… is already gone."
Evie stared at him. Something inside her cracked. Then splintered. And then collapsed.
She let out a sob that shattered whatever strength she had left. The pain that surged through her was raw and wild, not the clean sting of a fresh wound but the deep, splintered ache of something irreplaceable being torn away.
Lucas pulled her into his arms, holding her close as she cried. She buried her face in his shoulder and let herself fall apart. He didn't say anything. Just held her and rubbed slow, quiet circles along her back.
He remembered what it was like.
To lose someone.
To feel the world grow quiet and mean.
To scream inside and hear no answer.
He thought of his mother. Of the cold morning they took her from him. The smell of blood and roses. The silence that followed. How he hadn't spoken for days. How no one held him.
Not like this.
The trees stood still around them as Evie cried until her body shook. Until her throat went hoarse. Until she had no more tears to give.
But something else began to stir.
Lucas pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her. Her fists were clenched. Her body rigid. And then light.
It started faintly. A pale green shimmer glowing beneath her skin. Lucas's eyes widened.
"Evie," he said cautiously. "What's happening
...?"
"I don't know," she gasped, clutching her stomach. "It hurts...it hurts...."
Her body arched as a surge of jade light burst from her, so bright it blinded Lucas for a moment. He stumbled back.
The air around her pulsed. Her hair whipped around her face. Her eyes her beautiful brown eyes now held a glowing green dot at the center of each pupil.
Evie let out a scream so piercing it seemed to split the forest open. Birds launched from the trees in panicked flocks. The ground vibrated.
And then—
Silence.
A ring of scorched earth surrounded her.
Ash floated where once there were trees.
And Evie stood in the center of it all glowing faintly, her fists still clenched, eyes glassy and wide with grief and something else.
Something ancient.
Lucas stared at her, unmoving.
Whatever she was…
She had changed.
And this was only the beginning.