The room was quiet again.
Ayana finally broke the silence.
"I am not your enemy, Mikael. I also want you to get your daughter back," she said calmly. "But not everything happens just because you want it to. If you truly wish to bring your daughter back," she continued, her gaze shifting between Esther and Mikael, "you'll need more than anger and guilt. You'll need control. And that boy—if he really is a Primordial—might be your only chance. But misuse his power…" she paused, "…and you'll lose everything."
Mikael frowned. "What do you mean, 'lose everything'? You speak in riddles again, witch."
Ayana didn't answer him. She'd learned not to expect patience from a man like Mikael. Her eyes turned to Esther instead. "A Primordial represents the pinnacle of magical talent. They are so naturally blessed by the world itself that, no matter how talented others may be, a Primordial will eventually surpass every witch alive."
Esther frowned. "Then why did you stop me earlier? If the boy truly is that gifted, isn't it good for us? Channeling from him should be better than any other source."
Ayana let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "Not entirely. There are limits, Esther. Nature itself protects them by the balance of the world. And the world does not take kindly to those who try to disrupt that balance."
Mikael and Esther exchanged uneasy glances.
Ayana continued, voice low and steady. "Last night, I communed with my ancestors. They told me of a record—an ancient event preserved through generationsLong ago, a coven discovered a young girl believed to be a Primordial. Barely ten, The witches grew greedy of her power and tried to sacrifice her—to steal her gift into their own bloodline."
Esther's voice trembled. "What happened?"
"The ritual failed," Ayana said coldly. "The girl died screaming. Within months, that coven's entire bloodline vanished. The powerful went mad, others sickened, and their names were erased from record—only fragments remain as warnings."
Esther's face paled. "So even the thought of harming him…"
Ayana's voice softened but carried weight. "Nature always craves balance. The protection given to a Primordial isn't eternal—it lasts only until they reach maturity, around sixteen or seventeen. Before that, any attempt to harm them brings the curse. But once they come of age…"
She paused. "The protection fades—yet they no longer need it. By then, their power can rival entire covens. They become walking calamities."
She looked directly at Esther. "So tell me—do you really want to take that kind of risk? To challenge someone the world protects as a child and fears as an adult?"
Esther froze. The thought of that much power—untouchable in youth, unstoppable in adulthood—made her stomach twist.
She looked down, shaken. "Then we can't touch him," she murmured. "But what if we only channel his energy? That shouldn't hurt him—not directly."
Ayana's eyes narrowed. "Maybe. But do you truly want to risk antagonizing someone who will one day surpass every witch who's ever lived? Someone the world itself favors?"
Mikael's hand tightened around his sword. The mention of Freya's name had already reignited his desperation, but now his anger was tangled with fear.
Ayana's voice stayed calm. "You've already made an enemy of your own sister. You know how that ended. And now you'd cross a being even nature protects? Dahlia may have been powerful—but compared to a matured Primordial…" She shook her head slowly. "…she'd be nothing but a shadow."
Mikael's hand tightened around his sword. The mention of Freya's name had already reignited his desperation. Now, the idea of power just out of reach twisted inside him.
Ayana's voice stayed calm, but her words carried weight. "You've already made an enemy out of your own sister. You know how that ended. And now you're considering crossing a being that even nature protects? Esther, Dahlia may have been powerful—but compared to a matured Primordial…" She shook her head slowly. "…she would be nothing but a shadow."
Mikael scoffed, though unease flickered behind his eyes. "You're saying this child could one day be stronger than all witches? Even Dahlia?"
Ayana met his gaze. "Not could, Mikael. Will. Once he grows into his power, even entire covens would think twice before crossing his path."
The words hung in the air, cold and final.
Esther swallowed hard. "Then what do we do?"
Mikael didn't answer. He stared at the floor for a long time, his anger slowly fading into something else—fear, and the realization of how powerless he really was.
Esther glanced at him. His face was twisted with emotion—anger, grief, and a flicker of hope. There must be another way, she thought. Something other than relying on the boy.
Then she noticed something—Ayana's faint smile. A subtle, knowing expression.
Her eyes widened. "Ayana," she said suddenly. "You were happy when you realized he was a Primordial. If we can't use him, why were you so pleased? You must have a way. Tell me."
Mikael looked up sharply. "You're hiding something, witch."
Ayana didn't look at either of them. She simply stood, brushing the dust off her skirt, and walked toward the table to resume her work.
Esther hurried after her, grabbing her hand. "Please, Ayana. If there's a way to bring my daughter back, tell me. I'll do anything."
Ayana sighed and looked back, her tone cool. "You seem to forget something, Esther. That boy doesn't belong to you. I have as much right to him as you do. And I still remember someone calling me a liar not long ago…" Her eyes slid toward Mikael. "…so tell me, why should I help you?"
Mikael froze. He wasn't stupid—he knew exactly what Ayana was implying. Pride warred against reason in his chest. But then, unbidden, a memory surfaced: his daughter's laughter, her first steps, her tiny hands clinging to him.
He exhaled shakily, sheathed his sword, and stepped toward Ayana. Then, to both women's surprise, he lowered his head.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Help me."
Ayana blinked, caught off guard. Esther was speechless—she'd never seen Mikael bow to anyone.
Ayana looked at him for a long moment before a faint, satisfied smile crossed her lips.
'Good, she thought. The act worked. Now they're both where I need them.
The true method to utilize a Primordial's gift—one her ancestors had whispered to her—but she unfortunately can't do it. But Esther has exactly that , the impossible might finally be within reach.
And now, they had no choice but to follow her lead.'