Goddess Of The Underworld (Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 81

Chapter 81

The scent of roasted fruit and spiced bread pulls me from sleep. For a moment, I’m still floating, weightless, tucked between warmth and breath and skin. A leg slung over mine, a hand tracing slow circles at my waist. I blink up at a carved ceiling of stars, glowing faintly with morning light. My magic feels steadier today. Clearer. As if something inside me has realigned. Noah is already awake beside me, gazing at the ceiling like he’s been memorizing it. Haiden is curled half on top of me like a smug cat. Levi’s hand still rests in mine. Xavier sleeps in the chair near the bed, as if he meant to watch over us and lost the battle with sleep.

Layah is now sprawled out by the fire, her tail flicking lazily. I slip out quietly, pressing a kiss to each of them as I go, before padding barefoot toward the scent of something warm and inviting. The hall opens into a great room I hadn’t seen last night, vaulted ceilings, sunlight pouring through skylights in rainbow arcs, and a long stone table set with breakfast. Fresh fruits, steaming tea, honey–glazed meats, cheeses, breads still warm.

Mum looks up from where she’s pouring tea and smiles softly. “Good morning, little storm.”

Before I can answer, I feel them. A shift in the air. The bond threads hum. One by one, the others filter in, my mates with sleepy eyes and rumpled hair, Layah with a smirk that says she knows something I don’t, and finally, my three brothers. Malachi enters first, regal as ever, his golden eyes sweeping the room before landing on me with a soft glint of relief. Julius and Arztec follow, both tense, though they relax slightly at the sight of the food. Arztec snatches a plum off the table like a starving animal.

“Nice of you to invite us to the feast,” Julius grumbles.

“You found your own way here,” Mum replies dryly. “I didn’t think I needed to roll out a red carpet, too.”

Layah snorts and jumps into a seat near the middle, her paws stretched out along the table, stealing a chunk of bread.

“Don’t mind them, they get cranky when they’re not fed.” Mum says.

Noah takes the seat beside me. Xavier and Levi flank us while Haiden tucks into a plate like he’s never seen food before. Across from us, Mum raises a brow.

“We have someone joining us,” she says, just as a soft chime echoes in the air.

The vines part like a curtain, and in steps a woman. She’s old, but not frail. Tall, with hair like braided steel and eyes the color of storm glass. Her presence hits the room like a hush.

Mum straightens. “Mother.” My breath catches.

Elira’s mother. My grandmother. The woman’s eyes land on me, sharp as a knife and just as knowing. “So. This is the child.”

Her voice is smooth as silk and rough as stone.

“Everyone, this is my mother, Madra. She’s a witch. A very old one. And once upon a time, she taught Salira herself.” Mum’s voice tightens on the last part.

My stomach knots. “Then she knows how Salira thinks.”

“I know how she pretends to think,” Madra says, sweeping forward with elegance. “I also know how to track echoes in magic. That’s why I’m here.”

*You think you can help us find the other children?” Xavier asks carefully.

“Hmmm,” Saelira says, “I will. As long as you’re ready to face what’s left behind.”

“What do you mean?” Levi frowns.

Madra meets my gaze. “The ones who survive magic like yours, girl? They become… something else.”

The room falls silent. Then Layah, mouth full of honey–soaked bread, says quietly in my mind. “This is going to be interesting.”

“I thought the royal bloodline was strictly bitters,” Xavier says after a long silence, his brows furrowed. “No witches. That’s what the archives say.”

“They say a lot of things,” Mum mutters. “My father was a wolf, and his fated mate just so happened to be a witch.”

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Chapter 81

Madra smirks, but there’s steel behind it. “They say what they were told to say. What was necessary for peace.”

I glance between them, heart thudding. “So you’ve been hiding who you are. Why?”

“Because the last time the world knew a wolf carried witchblood,” Saelira says, “it sparked a war.”

Elira sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “My mother married a shifter king. She bore his children. Me included. But her blood runs older, deeper, tied to a line of witches who predate the first pack bonds. When the council found out, they threatened to strip the throne. My father died defending it. We were told to erase her lineage. To pretend it never happened,”

“And so we did,” Madra finishes calmly, “Until the world started breaking in the way I always knew it would. Your existence, little one, makes hiding pointless.”

My stomach twists. “So the magic I carry…”

“Is your birthright,” she says. “Through both lines. Goddess blessed, and witch magic”

Layah leans back, grinning. “Oh, this just gets better and better.”

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