Chapter 383

Olivia

Jenifer’s laughter sent a shiver down my spine, like nails on a chalkboard. Suddenly, the rock between my fingers felt too heavy, and no matter how hard I tried to wedge it free, it seemed as though it had gotten stuck.

“You’re so foolish, Olivia,” she finally said, her voice dripping with condescension. “You actually thought that the mock anchor was the real one?”

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I glared at her. “You’re lying. You’re just bluffing because I outsmarted you,” I said, even though the words sounded hollow even to my own ears.

Jenifer simply smirked, her eyes glinting with malevolence. “Ah, how the dying cope with death,” she said mockingly. “That’s where you’re wrong. The real anchor is something that you’ll never be able to destroy.”

“Try me,” I said through gritted teeth.

But Jenifer’s grin only grew. “Olivia, how shocking. I didn’t know you would have it in you to destroy one of your own children.”

As she spoke, I felt my body stiffen, my fingers dropping away from the rock behind my back. “No,” I said, shaking my head vehemently. “You wouldn’t use Elliot or Aurora to place a hex on Nathan. They’re just babies. And besides, neither of them has your sigil—”

“Oh, please,” Jenifer said with a wave of her hand. “I’ve done far worse. And besides, it has nothing to do with your bastard twins. But when your third child is born, you’ll see. A birthmark that can only be removed with pain, blood, and death.”

My blood ran cold. A birthmark on my unborn child? How had Jenifer managed to curse my future child? The very thought of it filled me with rage.

“You would dare harm my child?” I hissed, my voice trembling with fury.

Jenifer’s laughter filled the room again. “Harm?” she replied, her tone mocking. “Oh, Olivia, you have no idea, do you? How do you think that child came to be in the first place?”

I was confused. It had been the witch who had caused it, a dark ‘gift’, a way for the witch to control me. I had been powerless to stop it, to prevent the conception of my third child.

But then, before I could make sense of Jenifer’s words, her body began to contort in front of me, twisting and morphing into something grotesque. It happened so quickly that I barely had time to react.

And then, the witch was standing before me, her dark eyes filled with malevolent amusement.

I couldn’t help but gasp in shock and horror. The witch, the one who had tormented me for so long. “Who—Who are you?” I muttered, my lips trembling with a mixture of fear and fury.

“Don’t be a fool, Olivia,” Jenifer said, her voice having now changed to that of the witch—no longer a breathy and cloying voice, but instead a gravelly tone that sent shivers down my spine. “I know you’re smarter than this.”

“But this—this can’t be possible,” I said, even though deep down I knew that this had to have been the case all along. “This had to be a dream.”

Jenifer, now in control of the witch’s body, looked at me with a sinister grin. “Oh, Olivia,” she cooed, her voice dripping with malicious amusement. “You have no idea, do you? Allow me to show you.”

With those words, the world around me seemed to shift and warp, and I was plunged into a haunting vision. I felt as if I was no longer in the dimly lit room but transported to a different time and place.

In front of me, I saw a small, dimly lit hut, its walls adorned with strange symbols and herbs. I recognized this place instantly.

It was the witch’s hut.

The air was thick with the scent of incense, and the room was lit only by the soft glow of a crystal ball sitting on a wooden table in the center.

The vision showed the witch, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her pale skin illuminated by the faint glow of the crystal ball in front of her. She was hunched over the table, her fingers delicately tracing the surface of the ball as she muttered incantations under her breath.

“Olivia…” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Run, Olivia… I give you my strength…”

Suddenly, the witch’s eyes widened in alarm, and she quickly covered the crystal ball with her hands, a look of fear crossing her face. It was as if she had sensed something, someone approaching, something ominous.

“What do you want, Jenifer?” she hissed, her voice quivering with a mixture of anger and trepidation. “You’re not welcome here. Not after what you’ve done.”

I whipped around, my heart racing in my chest, to see Jenifer walking casually through the door. She had a malicious sneer on her face, and was wearing a black cloak around her shoulders.

“Hello, old friend,” Jenifer murmured. “It’s been a while.”

“Leave, traitor,” the witch said, rising from her seat. “I cast you out of my home.”

But Jenifer only laughed. “Oh, please,” she chuckled, “you’re the one who taught me everything I know. What makes you think your basic spells will work on me?”

The witch, now desperate, began to mutter protection spells under her breath, her hands moving frantically as she tried to ward off the impending danger. But it was clear that Jenifer’s power was far greater, her dark magic overpowering.

With a swift and sudden motion, Jenifer drew a gleaming knife from beneath her cloak and lunged at the witch.

The vision showed the gruesome scene unfolding before my eyes as Jenifer’s blade slid into the witch’s rib cage like it was made of butter. The witch, gasping, stumbled backwards, her hands reaching for the knife. Jenifer let her go and just watched with a malicious glint in her eyes.

“Traitor,” the witch croaked, her hands trembling as she gripped the knife. “But you will not succeed…”

The witch’s body fell to the ground, a pool of crimson spreading around her body as her life began to fade away. “You will die, Jenifer. Olivia is protected—”

“Quiet, old hag,” Jenifer said with a scoff. She stooped over the witch’s body and grabbed the knife by the handle, yanking it out. The witch screamed, and then there was nothing.

Then, with a swift motion, Jenifer ran two fingers along the bloodied blade. Her fingers, now dripping with crimson blood, formed a sigil in the air; and then she smeared the blood across her forehead, under her eyes, and down her neck.

And then it happened.

Jenifer’s body began to shift and contort, her features warping and changing until she looked no different from the dead witch. She stared down at the dead body, her lips stretching into an evil grin that sent shivers down my spine.

The vision came to its end, and I was once again back in the musty basement, facing the malevolent grin of Jenifer who had assumed the witch’s form again.

“Well?” Jenifer said in the witch’s voice, taking a step back and holding her arms out. “Suits me, don’t you think, Olivia?”