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The fires had always been there.
Regardless of the time or name their enemy chose, the fires remained. Not the fires made of flames, but the fire that fueled their enemies- the fires of hate. Hatred has always existed. Hatred fueled wars, conflicts, and revolutions. Hatred was a powerful tool and could be devastating in the hands of a tyrant.
The Camarilla had been hunting her for centuries. Centuries of fighting, of battles, of pain. Centuries of loss… but the fires have always remained. Driving them to action, driving them to target Sarah and her kind.
Now, they dared to bring the fires here; to her home… again. These monsters were trying to take her home, her safety, right out from underneath her. Now, they were attacking Fort Salem.
Sarah had always known the fighting would lead them here, to this witches’ place. Fort Salem was magic itself. An international beacon to all witches, that they always had a safe place to land. It was the place Sarah had built from her grief, from her pain, from her loss.
First, they had killed her family. They killed her parents in their home and then burned it to the ground. Sarah and her sister smelled the fire as they fled. They had been playing in the yard, Abigail and her. Her younger sister had been adamant they needed to show her doll the blooming marigolds in the back… they had just been sitting, waiting for dinner, when their world changed. As soon as Sarah heard her mother’s screams, she grabbed Abigail’s hand and ran. She ran and ran and ran, until she reached the New World.
When she reached it, well she found that same hate. She found that anger, that hostility, so they hid. They did not use magic, they simply existed. Until the drought came. Until the entire town almost died, and all they needed was a little rain. So sweet Abigail made it rain, except she had been seen. She had been seen using her power, and the fire came knocking on their door.
She still remembers Abigail’s screams. She remembers freezing, dropping the kettle she was holding, as their neighbors burst into their home. As they grabbed her and her sister, tying their hands, dragging them down the road. Her friends lined the streets, shouting at her, yelling at her, calling her a monster. Then, then they dragged them up onto the scaffolding. They put a noose around her baby sister’s neck, and they made Sarah watch her hang.
Then she found another family, a coven. She found witches who supported her, loved her, and made her feel safe. The Camarilla had burned them at the stake. Leaving their charred remains for Sarah to find, their only crime had been loving her. She built Fort Salem over where she buried their bodies, to remind herself why she fought, who she fought for.
Sarah had always known it would lead here, back to Fort Salem, so she had prepared. After Khalida had found her in her icy prison, they discussed the First Song. Sarah knew the power that song held and she knew what Tally had seen. Tally told her, when they were in Germany, about her vision. About seeing Raelle, and the six shadows around her.
Six shadows. Six stewards. Tally hadn’t seen just the witch bomb, she had seen the First Song. She had seen them and she had seen an explosion. The First Song would kill all the stewards that sang it, and Sarah Alder would not be, yet again, the cause of another witch's death. She would do what she always had- what she needed to, to protect them all.
So when she returned to the safe-house in the Mycelium, Sarah spoke to the stewards. She told them her plan, and they all objected. They all knew they might not live, this was not her burden to bear alone. Sarah would not allow it, she was set in her decision and would not be swayed. Khalida objected the most, arguing she had just enough power and knowledge. While she was not incorrect, the youngling was possibly the strongest witch to ever live, but she had so much more to live for. Sarah had reminded her of that with five words. “You cannot leave your family.”
Khalida had grown quiet, understanding what Sarah meant underneath- I can do this. I won’t be leaving anyone behind. So, with hesitant respect and a new lease on life, the other stewards gave Sarah their pieces of the First Song.
Just as the witch had given hers to Tally, they too gave theirs. No other witch had to die for this, Sarah would be the vessel they needed. After all, no other witch had spent 300 years perfecting the practice of layering seeds. She was the only one with enough practice and power, and she was the only one with little to lose.
When she found the identity of the last remaining steward, she headed immediately to Fort Salem. She found her home, in utter chaos. The Camarilla were attacking, trying to kill the Mycelium and any witch who got in their way. Sarah needed the remaining pieces and she needed them now. First, she would take the piece from the lost line, then she would find Craven.
When she found the lost steward in her mother’s office, apparently finding Khalida a place of shelter, it was easy to persuade Abigail to give her the last piece. It was easy because when Khalida told Abigail she could not live without her sister, well Abigail realized something. They were the lost line, the Bellweather line. Minerva had been right- so much history had been stolen from them. Slavery, the chains that had held Jem before Sarah had found her, had stolen their heritage from them. It had stolen their link to their past, their link to the First Song. Abigail was proud of her history, of her family, so it was for that family and the continuation of their line, that she gave Sarah her piece.
With five of the six pieces, she asked Tally, her Tally, to give her the remaining piece. She had found her outside the Necro labs, her and Penelope holding up a shaking Izadora. Tally had refused. She had yelled and screamed, even with the Camarilla banging down their door. She called Sarah irresponsible, stupid, hard-headed, and foolishly noble. She had banged fists against Sarah’s chest, tears streaming down her face, unable to say the words that Sarah so clearly heard. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me again.
Before Sarah could respond, the Camarilla had emerged from the Necropolis, and the final battle began. Tally’s sisters, her daughter, and numerous soldiers had joined them, all the while the Camarilla troops kept coming. They fought valiantly, but they were losing. Sarah saw bats overhead, and from the shadows emerged more witches- not Army, just witches. Nicte. Nicte had come to help with an army of her own. Good, Sarah had inferred from Abigail that Nicte had been training Tally, that she was close with Tally. It was good Nicte was here, Nicte would protect Tally when she was gone.
And then it happened. In the midst of their final battle, the culmination of centuries of hatred, the Camarilla had done something unthinkable. They dared to run their blade across the throat of someone else she cared for. They dared to try and run their scythe through the chords of an ancient line, one of the strongest lines Sarah had ever seen. A line that was now seemingly about to come to an end.
They had done something unthinkable- they had touched Tally.
Sarah’s guttural scream echoed across the battlefield. Her windstrike split Tally’s attacker in two. She ran, without thought of enemy or friend, only Tally. Tally’s body slumped to the ground as she ran; her eyes widened, trained on Sarah. Eyes filled with fear, with pain, with love. Hands wrapped around her throat, blood starting to drip through.
Dropping to her knees, Sarah gathered Tally in her arms. Tally’s eyes were closed, whether in pain or because she had no energy, Sarah did not know. She felt people around her, soldiers creating a wall. Soldiers trying to give her time to heal the witch in her arms.
She pressed her hands to Tally’s neck, finding her pulse weak. Without thought, she linked with Tally. She tried to find the wound, tried to separate it from the minor battle wounds marring Tally’s skin. The stab wound in her side, the burn along her back, the two broken ribs, the scrapes on her knees, and numerous other smaller injuries. Sarah needed to focus on the larger wound, the wound that was killing her. As Sarah found it and focused her energies there, Tally’s eyes shot open.
“S….S…..Sar...ah?” Sarah could not help the sob that escaped her. Tally was looking at her with such fear. This was nothing like in the cave, when the witch had grabbed her, no this was infinitely worse. This was not fear of an enemy or fear of failure, this was fear of death. This was fear of leaving her behind. This was the fear of leaving it left unsaid.
As Sarah felt her magic flow into Tally, she felt her own life force draining. She felt it pulling from her, and giving to Tally. She felt it take the power from her bones, and try to pull Tally back from the brink of death. Tally’s hand rose to grab her wrist, trying to push her away, even in her weekend state, to try and break the link between them. “T-t-too fffffar.”
No. Sarah Alder refused to accept it, she refused to believe she was too late. The Camarilla had taken everything from her- they could not have Tally. She kept pushing, she kept trying, she would not lose.
She searched Tally’s face, afraid of her paling complexion. Sarah pulled Tally tighter to her chest, bending to bring their foreheads together, and closed her eyes. She felt Tally’s breathing slow, frighteningly close to stopping. She had been too late, the final wound had been too deep. Sarah could not save her.
As tears streamed down her face, she knew what she had to do. “Tally, give me the song.” Her whispered plea caused Tally’s eyes to open, understanding on her face. “Nnn…nn…….nnnnnnno.” The gurgled nature of her speech was making it harder and harder to hear her, but Sarah understood. Tally did not want to give this to her, she did not want Sarah to follow her.
“Hush.” Sarah whispered fiercely as she moved back, bringing her lips to Tally’s forehead in a bruising kiss. They would never have more, they would never have the chance to. Dropping her chin, causing their foreheads to reconnect, Sarah could not keep the affection from her tone. “Even now, you are so stubborn, Craven.” Tally reached her hand up, attempting to pull their foreheads even closer. “AAAAAlllllwaaa…” Tally couldn’t get the full word out, her hand dropping- life draining.
Sarah could feel Tally’s breathing slow. They were out of time. A choked sob left her lips. “Tally, please.”
Sarah pulled back, desperately searching Tally’s dimming eyes. Slowly, Tally nodded.
With a sigh, Sarah leaned closer, their lips almost touching. Slowly, Sarah pulled back from the link, letting go of the hold she had tethering Tally to the land of the living. With her last breath, Tally Craven gave Sarah Alder her piece of the First Song.
As the song moved through Sarah, and settled in her bones, she felt Tally die. Gone were her dreams of the future, of the love they could share. Gone was Sarah’s dream, so she would end this nightmare.
As Sarah lowered Tally to the ground, she could not stop the tears from falling. Gently, she brushed the hair from Tally’s face and closed her eyes. Sarah pressed her lips to Tally’s forehead and whispered her last promise. “I will meet you on the other side, my love.”
Sarah leaned back on her heels, Tally’s lifeless body below her. She tore her eyes from Tally, raising them to those around her.
The Camarilla had dared to attack her home, they had dared to kill her heart. They had taken everything from her, again and again. This would be the last time. As she looked at the witches around her, she only saw pain. She only saw blood, carnage, and rage.
It was time.
She rose her eyes to the sky, opened her mouth, and sang.
- - -
History called them “The Fated Pair”. The two souls that were so intertwined, that they could not survive long without the other. That the loss of her bonded was what drove Sarah Alder to the edge, that her grief saved them all.
Those in the battle would go on to describe the moment Sarah began her song. That the air had stilled, their enemies had frozen in fear and confusion. That Sarah herself had begun to glow, her eyes an electric blue, her hair slowly turning white. That as she sang, the skies changed. As she layered her song the earth rose to hold their enemy in its grasp. When she added the final portion, Tally’s song, the skies opened and blue lightning rained down on them. It did not touch a single witch, rather it only attacked their enemies. At one point it was so blinding, everything was white. The lightning was continuously taking their enemy out, while making sure no witch was harmed.
After the last of their enemies had perished, the skies still stormed. That only as Alder began to finish her song, did the rain begin. The rain fell as the last notes of the First Song drifted over the air. It was as Sarah Alder’s body fell next to that of Tally Craven, that the world began to heal. Their salvation was born on the sacrifice of these two witches, their future born from their love.
Their story was tragic, yet true. Two souls so in love with one another, that they would die for the other. They loved each other enough to follow the other into death. Their love saved witchkind.
It was out of that love, that the world began anew.