The Forgotten Heir

The storm had passed, leaving the house damp and heavy with silence. Olivia barely slept. Her discovery of her mother’s torn spell page, the truth about the divorce, and the staged gunshot haunted her dreams. She woke to shadows that seemed to move on their own, to whispers that clung to her skin.

The world she thought she knew had broken. But the pieces were not yet finished cutting her.

That morning, she returned to the attic. She told herself she needed more, more of her mother’s words, more answers hidden in old trunks and forgotten shelves. She could not rely on Ethan’s version of truth anymore.

Dust swirled in the beam of her flashlight. She pushed aside cracked picture frames, winter coats eaten by moths, boxes of old letters. Then, tucked inside a wooden chest carved with strange symbols, she found another secret.

It was not clothes this time, nor a photograph. It was a leather bound book wrapped in red ribbon. The ribbon was stained darker in places, as though it had once been wet with blood.

Her hands shook as she untied it.

Inside were handwritten pages, her mother’s script looping and sharp. But these were not recipes or family notes. These were oaths, histories, secrets. The title at the top of the first page froze Olivia in place:

“The Order of the Blood Moon.”

She read in silence, her mouth dry.

The Order had been an old circle, a secret society bound to protect the balance between witches and humans. They were guardians, record keepers, silent watchers. Blood carried power, and only those born into the line could inherit the role of protector.

Her mother had been part of it. And Olivia,

Her throat tightened. She kept reading.

“Should the line break, the heir shall inherit the duty. The vow cannot be undone, only passed. One child must always remain, or the chain of guardianship ends, and darkness claims the world.”

Olivia dropped the book into her lap. She was not just her mother’s daughter. She was the last surviving heir.

Her entire life, she had been told she was ordinary. A wife. A woman meant to keep a house, to follow, to endure. But she was more. She had blood that carried a vow older than Ethan, older than her mother’s marriage, older than the lies.

She whispered, “I was never meant to be just a wife.”

The attic seemed to exhale with her. Dust drifted from the beams, and the air felt lighter.

But before relief could take root, another truth came to choke her.

Jessica.

Her name slipped into Olivia’s mind like poison. Jessica had been circling closer, watching, whispering, threatening. Jessica wanted power, not love. And now Olivia saw why. Jessica knew something about the blood vow.

She wanted to complete it.

If the vow could not be undone, then Jessica’s path was to claim it for herself, through Olivia’s blood.

Olivia closed the book with shaking hands. She pressed her mother’s torn spell page between its covers for safety.

But the dread would not leave her.

Later that day, Olivia moved through the hall with the book hidden under her coat. She felt watched. Every creak of the stairs, every flicker of a lightbulb made her jump.

She paused outside the study. The door was slightly open. Inside, she heard Ethan’s voice low and angry, and Jessica’s sharp reply.

“You should never have left the papers where she could find them,” Jessica hissed.

“She wasn’t supposed to look,” Ethan said. His tone was cold, clipped. “Olivia never pushes this far. Not until now.”

“She’s the heir,” Jessica snapped. “You don’t understand what that means.”

Olivia’s pulse hammered. They knew. They knew who she really was.

Jessica’s voice turned smooth, coaxing. “Let me handle it. One drop of her blood, one vow completed, and the power is mine.”

Ethan slammed his fist on the desk. “You will not touch her.”

Silence stretched, broken only by the ticking of the old clock. Then Jessica laughed, a soft, cruel sound.

“Protective, are we? Careful, Ethan. She will find out what you’ve done.”

Olivia couldn’t breathe. She backed away from the door, clutching the book tighter. She didn’t hear the end of their conversation. All she knew was that Jessica wanted her blood, and Ethan was still keeping secrets.

Night fell,

Olivia sat in her bedroom, the book open before her. She traced the letters again and again, trying to make sense of them. One child must always remain. Did that mean her life was already written? That she had no choice but to step into the role of guardian?

She remembered her mother’s hands, soft and warm, tucking her into bed. The lullabies whispered in a language Olivia never understood. Had those songs been spells? Had her mother always known this would be her daughter’s fate?

Tears blurred her eyes. She did not want chains, not vows, not ancient duties. She wanted freedom. But freedom seemed farther away now than ever.

The knock came just after midnight.

“Liv,” Ethan’s voice called softly.

Her body stiffened. She slid the book under her pillow and cracked the door open only an inch.

He stood there, shadows cutting sharp across his face. His shirt was half buttoned, his hair damp as if he had been outside. His eyes searched hers.

“Liv, we need to talk.”

She shook her head, trying to close the door, but his hand pressed against it.

“I’m not your enemy,” he said. “Whatever you’ve found… whatever Jessica told you… it isn’t the full truth.”

She whispered, “You faked the gunshot.”

His face flinched, the mask breaking for one second. Then he looked down, jaw tight. “I had to. To keep you close. You don’t understand what she’s planning.”

Her voice trembled. “And what are you planning, Ethan? Keeping me chained with vows I never chose?”

His silence was answer enough.

The house shook. A door slammed downstairs. Footsteps echoed, fast and sharp.

Jessica’s voice rose in a chant. Not words of anger, but words of ritual. The language was old, thick with power.

Olivia’s blood went cold. Jessica was starting the blood vow.

Ethan cursed under his breath. He pushed the door open wider. “Stay here!” he ordered, then ran down the hall.

But Olivia could not stay. She pulled the book from under her pillow and followed.

The living room was lit with dozens of candles, their flames bending as though pulled by breath. Jessica stood in the center, a dagger in one hand, her other palm cut and bleeding. She painted a circle on the floor in her own blood, the chant spilling from her lips.

Ethan lunged toward her, but she slashed the dagger through the air, the flame of every candle flaring high at once.

“You’re too late,” Jessica hissed. Her eyes glowed. “The heir’s blood will seal the vow.”

Her gaze snapped to Olivia.

Olivia froze, clutching the book to her chest.

Jessica smiled. “There she is. The last thread of the chain. Come closer, Liv. This is your destiny.”

Ethan stepped in front of Olivia. His voice was low, desperate. “Don’t touch her, Jess.”

Jessica tilted her head. “Still protecting her, after everything? You’re weaker than I thought.”

She raised the dagger. Ethan moved fast, grabbing her wrist. The struggle was violent, messy, candles knocked over, wax spilling hot onto the rug. Their shadows lunged across the walls like monsters.

Olivia wanted to run, but her feet would not move. She watched, trembling, as Ethan and Jessica fought.

The dagger flashed. A grunt. A cry.

Then silence.

Olivia’s eyes widened.

Ethan was gone.

One moment he had been there, holding Jessica’s wrist. The next, nothing. Only a bloody handprint smeared across the wooden floor where he had stood.

Jessica stood alone, breathing hard, the dagger dripping red. Her face twisted into a smile.

Olivia gasped. “What did you do?”

Jessica tilted her head, as though savoring the fear.

“Did you think Ethan was your savior? Your protector?” She laughed softly. “He was my pawn. The gunshot, the lies, even his love for you, it was all a stage I set. And now he’s gone, because I put him there.”

Her words cut sharper than any blade.

“You,” Olivia’s voice broke. “You planted the note. You shot him that night.”

Jessica’s smile widened. “And I let you think it was someone else. I let you blame shadows. But it was always me. Always.”

The candles flared again, tall and wild, throwing fire across the walls. The dagger dripped another bead of red onto the floor.

Olivia clutched her mother’s book tighter, her heart racing. She was heir to an order, tied to a vow, hunted by Jessica’s greed. And now Ethan, the man who had chained her in lies but still, somehow, part of her, was gone.

Gone, with nothing left but a bloody handprint.

Olivia stands trembling in the firelight, Jessica smiling like a predator, the bloody handprint glowing dark on the floorboards. The book in Olivia’s hands seems to pulse with heat, as if alive. And in the shadows above, a whisper not her own speaks from the air, “Choose, heir, blood or vow.”