With a heavy heart, he conceded, “Very well.”
๐€โถล๏ฝแปืฉ๏ผฅ๐๏ฝ.ฤ๐๐ช
Yet, as he prepared to depart, his words lingered like a cautionary whisper. “Be on your guard. Age does not render one harmless. Call me at the first sign of danger.”
“I know, don’t worry,” I reassured him.
I appreciated his genuine concern. Yet, I felt a deep-seated conviction that Camilla, despite her frosty exterior, bore me no ill will.
๊งเผโฌ๐๐ฎ๐ช๐ป๐๐ธ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ต๐ผ.๐๐ธ๐ถโฌเผ๊ง
To me, she was a mirror to my own mother’s spirit-a reservoir of kindness masked by the veneer of age and suspicion.
Debra’s POV:
With my father gone, it was just Camilla and me left in the dim confines of the cell.
Camilla was a huddled figure on the other side, nestled on disheveled thatch, her back against the wall, eyes shut. The dense air hung with mustiness, yet her composure remained undisturbed, her aged face devoid of any tell.
“Camilla?”
My voice reached out to her.
Silence was her only reply, as if she were lost in slumber, oblivious to my presence.
I had to open the cell door with the key.
Approaching her, I crouched with earnest. “I believe you can sense that I’m not merely a she-wolf but share in the witch’s blood that courses through you. Your resentment towards werewolves is palpable, yet I hope”
Camilla cut me off sharply. “If you’re aware, why stay any longer?”
“I, too, am a half-blood witch and mean you no harm.”
Camilla’s voice was flat, her disdain palpable. “What difference does it make? You’re a werewolf’s kin! You’ve spent so much time among them, you’re practically one of them. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You’re trying to pry secrets out of me, and I find it revolting. Witches in league with werewolves deserve death.”
“You’re not s
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eeing my point.” I rushed to clarify as her misunderstanding seemed to grow. “Consider this, Camilla. If my loyalties lay purely with werewolves, dismissing the witches, would I be here seeking understanding from you? I could easily have my father hunt down any witch we came across. It would be far less complicated, wouldn’t it?”
A momentary pause fell as Camilla weighed my words.
Sensing an opening, I pressed on. “The animosity bred from conflict knows no end. A true resolution calls for understanding the root of this longstanding enmity. And I believe you know that achieving a lasting peace will require us to address the very heart of witches and werewolves’ strife.”
With a gravity meant to sway her, I impressed upon her the urgency.
“The conflict between werewolves and witches teeters on the brink. If unchecked, many witches will face upheaval. Can you abide such devastation?”
Those words seemed to reach Camilla. A flutter of her lashes was followed by a slow, deliberate gaze.
A look of recognition flickered across her face. “You seem familiar to me. You resemble an old acquaintance of mine…”
Her tone softened, laden with memories. “A very kind witch…”
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