"I can't go in with you," Joey says after he knocks on a dark, wooden door at the end of a candlelit hallway. We're inside a building behind the Summit, a smaller building made of thick, stone walls. Natalia is waiting outside and I really wish she'd just leave all together. "The matters discussed in there can't be repeated by third parties."

"Okay," I say. "What do I do?"

The door slowly opens with no one on the other side. The room is coated in darkness.

"Present yourself," a voice shouts.

"A candidate wishes to join the meeting," Joey says.

"Enter, candidate."

"Good luck," Joey says. "Remember why you're doing this."

I nod. I enter the room and the door slams behind me. I jump, glancing around the pitch-black room. It suddenly becomes normal, with light and presence. The room is a circular room, like a chamber, and in front of me sits five bodies wearing thick, red hoods that sit along a wide, wooden desk. There is a girl here, hardly older than sixteen, and after glancing at me quickly, she turns back to the council.

"What do you mean it's not close enough to manifestation?" she demands. "You saw what I did, I passed your test!"

"You did not pass the test," a man in the middle says. "And you are too inexperienced to perform at the level required."

"That's bull," the girl hisses. "I am more capable of leading the covens than witches double my age. Amara took me under her wing, she coached me. I was like a daughter to her."

"Like a daughter doesn't magically make you worthy of leadership. What's your name?"

The girl is silent, and that's when I realise he's talking to me.

"Theresa Harmon," I say.

Every one of them stands in synchronization. The girl turns and stares at me. It's silent.

"Leave us," the man orders.

"Not got a chance in hell now have I?" the girl growls as she storms towards the door. She pushes into my shoulder, prompting a snarl from me.

"Can you repeat that?" the man asks.

"Theresa Harmon," I say. "It's my name."

He puts out his hand. "Your wrist."

I walk across the room and I turn my arm. They lean over each other to look at it, and they share a look as I pull it back.

"You were presumed dead, Theresa," the man says. He's older than the others, with silver hair and wrinkles underneath his eyes. The two witches to his left begin whispering. "Can you explain how you are alive?"

"Amara lied," I say. "She tried to kill me like she did to my whole coven. I got away. The. . . Slayers saved me."

"Explain."

I sigh. "I'm not here to discuss my past with you. I've been through a lot in the last few months and I have a worthy cause to be here."

"Sure, being a Harmon is a great asset, but being the Elder is more than just belonging to a powerful coven."

"I can manifest."

The warlock chuckles. "I've heard that from a few witches in the last hour."

"I can prove it," I say. "Just give me a test."

He leans back in his seat and glances either side of him. The two witches to his left nod and the two warlocks to his right nod.

"Very well," he says. "Witches have no control over the air, so prove to us you can manipulate it by hovering to the top of the ceiling. We will know if you cast a spell."

Easy enough. I take a deep breath and I summon the manifestation. Suppressing my newly found Slayer side is a horrible feeling. I am giving up the feeling of energy, severing the connection that I have with everything around me. I can summon it back if I need it, but it still makes me nervous. I find it almost instantly, waiting patiently for my command to surface. I smile as the warm, fuzziness coats around my stomach. It's like a drug, filling my body with comfort. I will myself into the air, but there's a strange consequence. I look back to the council, who are just staring at me blankly.

"We don't respond well to time wasters, or liars," the man says. "You can see yourself out."

I smirk. "Look down."

The council members each lean out of their seats to take a view of the ground which is twelve feet below them. A couple of them cling to the desk while lifting up their feet from the rug that sustains their seating. The warlock laughs.

"Incredible," he says.

I gently lift them back to the floor, myself too. I have no desire to hurt them or scare them, I don't know them. They may appoint the Elder, but they seem neutral.

"You did that from your mind?" a witch asks. She is in her forties, with dark hair and dim, brown eyes.

"Yes," I say.

"How?"

I swallow. I can't tell them the truth, that I'm half Slayer. I don't even know if it's being different that makes it possible. My manifestation might not be anything to do with being half Slayer, but it's the most convenient possibility. If my witch side amplifies my Slayer side, then it works both ways. In theory. But the other possibility, is what I thought all along, that being the last of my coven is their way of securing we don't all die without leaving behind another generation. Maybe I'm my coven's insurance policy.

"I don't know," I say. "Amara wasn't my mother; I know that much. But I do share her power."

"A gift from the gods," a warlock whispers. "All hope may not be lost after all."

"Theresa," the silver-haired man says. "Do you know about the danger we are facing?"

"The demons?"

"Yes. The demons. They intend to rise and obliterate this world within the year. The covens do not know yet, Amara kept it from them. If you were Elder, what would you decide to do?"

"They deserve to know," I say. "But it'll also create panic. My main priority is the mortals, as the Elder I will order the end of the Red Camps. Amara destroyed everything, she was corrupted and the covens were too afraid to stand against her. I want to show them that there's another way."

"But. . . I fear," the warlock says slowly. "That you are biased towards Slayers. Is your intent of becoming Elder to free the mortals or to stop the war between Slayers and wiccans?"

"My intent is to make a better world for everyone. I can't do that alone. Maybe I am biased towards them, but for good reason. The Slayers are not the enemy, behind their hard exterior and infamous slaughter reputation they are good people. And they don't want the demons here anymore than we do."

"You know that for sure?" he demands. "Have you met the entire species?"

"No, but-"

"Then how can you be certain of what they truly are? Even if you can convince or order the wiccans to treat them nicely, there is no way of knowing that the Slayers will agree. Your people will die."

"The Slayers will agree," I say.

"But how can you be sure?"

"Because I know the Malachi." It comes out before I can stop it, and now I'm facing an explosion of confused expressions. "He's a good man. He cares. And I know that he'll agree to end the war."

The warlock rises from his chair slowly. "The Malachi killed Amara."

"How do you know that?" I whisper. "Amara died hours ago, why are you even holding candidate meetings so soon?"

"How do you know that?" he demands back.

I swallow. There's no going back now, I can see it in their eyes, they know. Or at least they suspect.

"I was there when she died," I say. "I helped kill her."

The warlock sits. "Good."

"Excuse me?"

"We don't care about how a previous Elder died. We only care about the truth. If you're truthful with us, it goes in your favour. We don't judge, we assess."

"Who are you?" I say.

"We were created by Samara, the first demigod. If a descendant of hers could not produce children or continue the bloodline, then we were appointed keepers of the Elders. Since it became clear that Amara wasn't interested in having a child, then we became involved in her affairs."

"You are neutral," I say. "You can't disagree or agree with us? Our decisions? Anything?"

"Only to the extent that Samara allowed," he says. "We deal with facts and dangers. But you must tell us the entire truth so we can form a conclusion. Leave nothing out."

"Okay," I say, taking a deep breath. "I lied. I'm half witch, half Slayer. My father was the previous Malachi. I don't remember him. Vienna has been haunting me for the past few weeks by making me see hallucinations and trying to force me into killing the Malachi, Sam. I chose not to kill him, in fact I developed feelings for him, and I know that he'll agree to the truce because I think he has feelings for me too. Oh, and I was in the possession of Samara's amulet, it made me invincible to spells, to anything-"

"You wore the amulet?" the warlock says.

"That's what you're most interested in?" I say, widening my eyes. "Okay. Yeah, the Slayers have it at the castle. It's dangerous, I never wore it again after I took it off."

"You have to retrieve that amulet," he says seriously. "It is the Elder creator. It is her soul."

"Marcus," a witch whispers. "If the girl wore the amulet then Samara has chosen her. The gods have chosen her. She is our Elder."

I don't know what that means, but Marcus has a very low and thoughtful look in his eye. He bites on his lip as he considers something: me.

"Very well," he says. "Theresa Harmon, Samara's legacy continues with you. We will reveal the news in due course, but you must bring that amulet to us first. It is of grave importance."

"I can do that," I say. "Just give me some time."

"Hurry," he says. The door swings open. "We will be waiting."

I narrow my eyes and I leave the room. Something feels off about this, and I can't put my finger on it.

"Well?" Joey says. "How did it go?"

I wave my hand and my green portal appears in the hallway. "I have to do something. I'll be back soon."

He tries to protest, but I enter the portal before I can hear him. At the other side, it spits me out in the recovery chamber of the castle. It's quiet, as everyone is still in California helping the mortals. Everyone. . . except the one person I need. This may be my last time ever in the castle, the castle that has been my home for many months now. A place that I once loathed, that I once feared. But now, I know it as the place that I got stronger, that I got braver, that gave me meaning when my whole life was bleak.

I try not to think of that, as I descend into the darkness of the underground.