Chapter 28

Tainted skies now mirrored the afflictions of recent times. Invariably, covens had risen, and reigns of control had changed. Otherwise, the intricacies between light and dark had remained established. Given that, Anna admired various student portraits under a dingy lamplight. (An array of enviable individuals she'd protected from a persecuting society). In light of that, Saint Ann's remained a haven for the vilified occultist, though Anna never foresaw the devil reappearing. Questioning this, she converged on a bookcase and grasped a particular image.

For one thing, Anna adored Sam and had enriched her existence despite a cursed bloodline. Second of all, she'd matured significantly due to the day witches' influence. From that perspective, each was a source of resiliency the other depended on. Which is why Jennifer's decision to leave the mosque had rekindled sensations Anna stood powerless to negate. Whatever the case, the demands of retaining secrets weighed, so she again considered rescinding her vows.

Later that night, as residents slumbered, Anna wrapped a cloak and accessed the courtyard. On the surface, time seemed to stand still, as it had on that fateful night twenty years before. A day that changed the Wicca culture, along with the foreseeable future. Just the same, Anna remained composed, though passions stood ingrained, and conditions had worsened.

Through and through, she scoured the chapel, searching each passageway. By coincidence, the dorms remained tame, with only sporadic embers indicating existence. In a related move, she'd twinkle as an effigy of Christ shadowed each step. Albeit, Anna immediately stood aghast as an inverse crucifix suddenly emerged from Jesus' brow. Frightened, she bypassed the pews and rushed toward the rear doorway. But instead of grasping the knob, she twisted and fixed on the altar.

“Impossible,” she whispered, trembling.

From nowhere, the eerie silhouette of a once abandoned enigma stood, staring. Over and over, Anna doubted the reality, but soon realized it was Harold Morgan. Although, recalling the last time she saw him, he now appeared stern and battered, and eager to inflict suffering. More than that, the sovereign again existed under a veil of darkness and had enslaved its divine power.

“You're alive,” she exclaimed, shaking.

“Surprised?” he muttered, drawing near.

Exceedingly, Anna tensed.

“I don't know where they are,”

In bad vein, Harold edged closer, trapping Anna between two massive partitions.

“We'll see,”

Upon awakening, fire, tumultuous fumes, and the crackle of splintering timber, horrors that confronted Anna as a twenty-year legacy stood eradicated. At long last, Harold had gone, but sadly, with each of Saint Ann's inhabitants.
Worse luck, whether they'd been killed or seized, she didn't know. All told, Katherine was right, and evil had devoured his soul.

Against this backdrop, Anna trudged through the ruins of the mosque, hunting for two renowned torches, the key of eternal pathways, and a ledger of spells. Relics synonymous with Sam's practice and the Goddess she embodied. Finally, before disappearing into the dawn, Anna assessed the destruction, convinced Katherine's children were in grave danger.