Gathering the items for the spell wasn't difficult, but I also understood why each one was necessary. The hardest part was finding the rodent, but eventually, I managed to catch a rat. A black candle, my Grams' hand-held mirror, a few strands of her hair, and the live rat—its tiny teeth gnawing at the edges of the plastic cup that barely contained him. He scrambled, trying to climb out but couldn't manage it.

I sat cross-legged in my room, all the necessary items laid out in front of me, with the Book of Shadows open to the page it had revealed just an hour earlier, resting to my right. The page looked like any other at first glance, its yellowed, crisp edges showing its age. But upon closer inspection, it was far from ordinary. Two intricately drawn ravens flanked the text, their feathers meticulously detailed, each stroke capturing their eerie presence. The ravens appeared to be watching over the spell, their sharp eyes fixed on the words. The text of the spell itself was framed by delicate, twisting designs that resembled veins crawling up the page, as though the very essence of the darkness the spell dealt with was creeping to life before me. It felt alive in a haunting way.

The spell called for a living sacrifice—an act steeped in darkness. For what is darkness if not the spilling of innocent blood? I took a shaky breath, staring at the items laid out before me. The anger still simmered inside me. She had no right to make that decision without telling me. Why didn't she trust me? I'm not a little girl anymore—I can make my own choices. But the thought of the pain she must be in the torment weighed heavy on me. She had taken in too much darkness.

"Incendia," I whispered softly into the air, and the black candle before me ignited instantly. I carefully picked up the strands of grey hair and placed them on the reflective surface of the hand-held mirror.

"By moon's dark veil and shadow's call," I began the incantation, my hands reaching for the plastic cup. "Bring back the night, let darkness fall." Carefully, I cupped the rat in my hands, feeling its small, trembling body. "To the one from whom it's lost, restore the dark, no matter the cost."

I took the sharp knife I had gotten from the kitchen, its blade gleaming under the candlelight. With a swift, precise cut across the rat's throat, blood spilt from the wound, dripping onto the mirror and forming a dark pool. "As I speak, so it shall be. Darkness now, return to me." The incantation held conviction and strength, and there was no doubt in my mind what this spell needed to do.

I watched as the pool of blood on the glass began to bubble, a sinister ripple spreading across its surface. The air around me grew colder, an unnatural chill seeping into the room. Goosebumps rose on my skin, the hairs on my arms standing on end as the temperature dropped even further than the cold outside. The rat's blood ceased dripping, and I carefully placed it back into the plastic cup, my eyes never leaving the mirror.

The rat's blood ceased dripping, and I carefully placed it back into the plastic cup, my eyes never leaving the mirror. The pool of blood on the glass began to shrink, as though the liquid was being drained—yet it wasn't vanishing but rather absorbed into the mirror itself. The strands of hair had spread into a web-like pattern, creating cracks across the glass, as if the mirror itself was fracturing.

Without warning, my bedroom door flew open, revealing my Grams. Her eyes immediately locked onto the ritual before me, taking in the scene. I sat at the base of my bed, my back just inches from the cold metal frame.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded, her voice frantic as she hastily wrapped her dressing gown around herself as she'd just been jolted awake by some unseen force.

"I know!" I snapped, my eyes locking onto hers. "How could you do that?! Why didn't you tell me?" My voice trembled with anger as I stood up in one swift, defiant motion.

"I was protecting you!" she shot back, her voice rising to meet mine. "I've spent my whole life protecting you—why would this be any different?!"

"Because you dragged Emmett and his family into your lie!" I yelled, my anger burning hot. "You did it because you think I can't handle the darkness, that I'll lose control! But I won't! I can control it!"

"Like you controlled Bella's fate?!" My Grams fired back, stepping closer, her own fury rising—a rare sight. "She was meant to die, Charlotte! Nature had taken its course, but you couldn't accept that. So, you defied the laws of nature and resurrected her!"

"What's the point of being a witch if I can't use my power to save someone I love?!"

"That path is a slippery slope, Charlotte! Your heart will darken, your mind twisted, unable to tell right from wrong!" I shook my head in frustration. She still believed I couldn't handle it, that I wasn't capable of deciding what was right or wrong on my own.

"And what about you?" My voice softened, trembling as tears welled in my eyes. "You took all that darkness from me. It's clearly hurting you," I added, my gaze locking on her. My Grams looked worn down, not the bright, lively woman I'd always known. She seemed like she was fighting an internal battle, second-guessing herself, her words hesitant. Now that I truly saw what she had done, her appearance made my worry deepen.

"I did it for you," she replied, her voice mirroring the softness of mine.

"And I'm doing this for you," I said, my gaze flickering down to the ritual laid out on the floor. "Veni hic," I intoned, extending my hand towards her. As the words left my lips, an unseen force seemed to lift her slightly from the ground and pull her toward me. I grasped her hand tightly with one of mine and used my other hand to secure her other hand. As soon as our hands were linked, the spell took effect. The glass shattered with a sharp crack, and I watched in horror as dark veins appeared on her skin, bulging and vivid.

"Please stop," she pleaded, trying to pull away but unable to. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and seeing her like this shattered my heart.

"You told me I needed to choose what kind of witch I wanted to be," I said softly, tears streaming down my cheeks. "This is my choice. To be a witch who helps those she loves, who would sacrifice herself for them... If reclaiming my darkness is what it takes to help you, then so be it." I took a deep breath as I watched the black veins recede from her face and travel down her arms. They shifted onto my hands, creeping up my own veins. I could feel their presence, a faint, unsettling sensation beneath my skin.

I felt the same unsettling sensation I had that night when I first let the darkness in. Back then, I was consumed by pain and grief, overwhelmed by Bella's death and my own helplessness. But now, with a clear mind, I refused to let this darkness define me or alter my thoughts.

Once all my darkness had been transferred from my Grams, she staggered back as our hold on each other was released. She stared at me, taking deep breaths as if a huge weight had been lifted from her chest, allowing her to breathe freely.

I raised my hand to examine the black veins that now coated every inch of my skin. Despite their presence, I felt neither fear nor surrender. With a single thought, the veins began to fade, receding beneath the surface.

"You should have trusted me," I said, lowering my hand to meet my grandmother's gaze. "This is my darkness, and you need to let me live with it,"

"I'm sorry," my grandmother said, her voice laden with regret. She was at a loss for words, her shame evident, but her intentions were to protect her only granddaughter. She took a step toward me, trying to offer an embrace, but I recoiled, my anger still too raw to accept her comfort. She noticed my retreat and gave me a knowing look as if she understood the reason behind my actions.

"The Volturi are coming," I said quickly, aiming to redirect the tension. "They're coming for Renesmee and for me." I wasn't about to soften the blow. "They know I'm a witch," I said, and her eyes widened in shock and disbelief, her mind racing to process the revelation.

If we failed to convince them about Renesmee, we were doomed. But if we succeeded, what then? Would the Volturi then turn to me, demand my death, or worse? The uncertainty terrified me.

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