Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Celeste’s POV

*****

9:55 am, Crimson Expanse Audience section.

My heart hammered against my ribs, fingers tapping my legs nervously.

Above the crimson field, a large holographic screen levitated, showing the witches as they faced their trials. And one of those witches happened to be Atlas.

"What’s going on with him?" Willow nearly got on her feet, pointing at the screen. "He’s barely moved after they stopped that earth storm. And... his face."

I saw it too.

It wasn’t just Atlas—even Inari covered her ears, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes like she was being haunted.

The more seconds that passed, the more feelings that weren’t mine hit me through the bond.

Unease. Disbelief. Fear...

None of it was mine.

"Atlas," I mumbled, head tilting. "What is he—"

"Illusions," Caelum mumbled beside me. He’d say close to us when the witch trials kicked off. "It seems like it. I’ve seen that same look on people’s faces when I used illusion magic. Except this feels... much worse."

Even Professor Amelia and the others at the high table didn’t say a word, all focused on the screen as if they didn’t organise and plan this whole thing.

My fists clenched. "It’s psychological torture. And then White Flame..."

As if on cue, the frame shifted, showing White Flame’s witches. Unlike Atlas and Inari, their trial involved something arguably simpler.

Portals.

Multiple portals opened around them, each one larger than the last. They disrupted the girls’ movements, forcing them to regroup and act fast.

A few runes were drawn by one while the other raised her arms, making the portals collapse in on themselves. In seconds, the space around them was stable again, a new obstacle manifesting already.

"That’s it?!" A male student yelled in outrage several seats below us. "They just faced that obstacle easily while Atlas and Inari are still struggling."

"This isn’t fair!"

"Something isn’t right. Atlas shouldn’t be reacting this way!"

"Is this thing fucking rigged?"

Uproar spread from every corner. My eyes travelled to the High table. Even from this angle, Dean Thorne seemed oddly disturbed, whispering something to Professor Amelia.

In contrast, Luna Queen Janelle was more curious than disturbed, rubbing her chin calmly.

"Things aren’t looking good for us," Willow whispered, head swerving to me. "Can you... Feel him at all? Through... you know."

Caelum gave us a side eye. My cheeks burned like I’d been caught taking drugs. "You couldn’t have picked a better time to ask that?" I spoke in a hushed tone. "And yes. I can. All of them."

All of them—

Speaking of which, I hadn’t seen Luther since he ran off. And that was over thirty minutes ago.

Wait—why the heck do I care?

I rolled my eyes, fingers crossed for Atlas. Subconsciously, my gaze flicked to the spot where White Flame’s students sat.

However, I froze when I didn’t see someone. Easily the most important and noticeable amongst them.

Rebecca.

"What the...?" I blinked with confusion, flinging my head back. Yep. Luther still hadn’t returned—again, I shouldn’t care. But now? "That’s too much of a coincidence. Or are they—"

"Woo-hoo!" Willow’s victorious hoot made me jolt, neck swinging back to the screen. "That’s what I’m talking about!"

On the screen, Atlas made an impressive display of magic.

His arms spread out, eyes glowing bright gold. Several runes emerged in the air around him, each pulsing with a purpose that I was surprisingly able to recognise.

Mental clarity.

"You do not exist!" He roared, fists clenching.

And just like that, he stumbled, eyes blinking rapidly as if he just got pulled out of a nightmare.

Fortunately, Inari wasn’t a pushover either, regaining herself and standing firm.

Applause thundered through the Crimson Expanse, many getting on their feet. Some girls cheered too loudly, giggling and gushing over Atlas.

I smiled.

For the first time in a while, I let myself admire his features. He truly was a breathtaking man—powerful too.

"What’s Luther doing with her?" Caelum’s low voice made me frown.

I glanced at him first, hesitantly following his gaze until I saw it. Or rather... them:

Luther and Rebecca were walking through the rows of seats, searching for empty ones. They didn’t hold hands. They barely even stuck close to each other.

Yet... seeing them together struck a chord I couldn’t believe. No. There’s no way in the fucking world that I’d have this feeling toward Luther Hale.

Jealousy.

My jaw tightened, chest rising and falling unevenly. "I... what is he even doing with someone he’s going to compete against soon?"

I hated myself for asking that out loud.

Fuck, the moon goddess had to be playing a joke on my emotions.

Eventually, the two parted ways, Rebecca sitting back with her schoolmates while Luther sat only a couple of paces back.

"Talk about a dog," Willow joined the conversation, neck stretched like she was ready to dissect every detail. "I thought being with Lysandra finally put him on some kind of leash. Speaking of which, I doubt our resident queen bee would be pleased seeing them so close."

She paused, lips parting for a beat. Then her head turned to me. "Oh—Cel, you don’t feel bad about any of that, right?"

A lump formed in my throat but I still managed speech. "O–Of course, not! For all I know they could just be... catching up on something. They’re both from Europe after all." I shrugged, noticing Caelum staring. "Besides, it’s none of my concern. Luther and I are done, remember?"

I stressed the last word, signalling her to knock it off.

Caelum had been giving me weird looks since Silas hugged and pecked me on the head before the trials kicked off. The last thing I needed now was my brother finding out about the bond.

Before Willow could respond, the atmosphere shifted.

A sharp click of heels against stone cut through the cheers and scattered chatter. Heads turned in waves. Whispers followed.

I didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Lysandra Carrington didn’t walk anywhere quietly.

She waltzed down the aisle between the seats like she owned the Crimson Expanse itself, posture perfect, chin lifted, fury barely masked beneath a brittle smile. Her eyes locked onto Luther instantly.

"What," she said loudly, far too loudly, "was that supposed to be?"

Students nearby froze. Some leaned in. Others outright turned in their seats.

Luther stood halfway, brows knitting. "Lysandra, not here—"

She didn’t let him finish.

Her gaze slid past him—to Rebecca.

"Oh," Lysandra laughed, sharp and humourless. "So this is what you ran off for?"

Before anyone could react, she reached out and shoved Rebecca’s head sideways.

The gasp that followed was collective.

Rebecca straightened slowly.

Very slowly.

Silver eyes burned as her neck twisted to meet Lysandra’s daring gaze.

"Well, shit," Willow mumbled.