Chapter 710: What Remains Hidden
Chapter 709: What Remains Hidden
Olga nodded slowly.
"That is true," she said.
Sophia touched one of the pale strands gently, her fingers trembling slightly.
"But my main issue now," Olga continued, her brow furrowing, "is why the hair is still black. Something was used on it—something strong. But what? We have tried the usual method to remove any dye. A normal dye would have reacted more than this."
The old woman with the grey bun spoke up then. Her beaded necklace caught the firelight as she leaned forward, her eyes narrowed in thought.
"Perhaps it really is black magic," she said quietly.
The room went still.
"I doubt there is any dye that would not have reacted to what Olga did," the old woman continued. "We have washed her hair thoroughly. We have used herbs that strip even the most stubborn colours. And yet, most of it remains black."
She paused, her gaze drifting to Sophia’s hair.
"Perhaps Victoria really used black magic, maybe even going as far as to use blood as black as hers on it."
Everyone paused.
Then someone chuckled. Another joined in, then another, and soon everyone was laughing.
Olga shook her head slightly, but she did not dismiss the old woman’s words entirely. Instead, she reached for a soft cloth and began gently drying Sophia’s hair, patting the damp strands carefully.
"We will continue trying," she said. "We will try different herbs, different oils, different methods. I don’t know if you can make time... at least every day until we get it off?"
Sophia was quiet for a while, and then she nodded.
"I’ll make time. I would prefer to get my original hair colour back."
Olga nodded then and continued drying Sophia’s hair. A few minutes passed, and then Sophia was free to leave.
She stood up from the stool, her legs slightly stiff from sitting so long. The damp hair clung to her neck and shoulders, cold against her skin, but she ignored it.
"Thank you," she said, looking around at the workers. "All of you. For helping me."
The man who had held the wooden bowl shook his head immediately.
"There is no need to thank us," he said. "This is the least we can do to help you, especially after all that went down earlier today."
A woman beside him nodded. "We should be the ones apologizing."
One by one, they bowed their heads.
"We are sorry," the man said. "For doubting you."
The old woman with the grey bun added, "We will try our best to get your hair colour back. That is a promise."
Sophia’s throat tightened. She had not expected this. She had come here for help with her hair, not for apologies. But the weight of their words settled over her anyway.
"Thank you," she said again, her voice softer this time.
She waved at them, then turned and walked toward the door, Orion following after her.
The moment they stepped outside, the cold hit her like a wall.
Sophia shivered, her damp hair freezing almost instantly at the ends.
Orion reached up, unclasped his cloak, and draped it over her shoulders immediately.
The fabric was warm from his body, heavy and thick, and it swallowed her whole. It dragged on the ground slightly, pooling around her boots, but she did not care.
She breathed in deeply, his scent surrounding her.
"Not that I’m complaining, but what about you?" she asked, glancing up at him.
"I am used to the cold, shorty," Orion told her. "The same cannot be said for you."
She frowned. "It is only cold because my hair is still damp."
"I know," he said. "But still. I am used to the cold. You are still getting used to it."
She wanted to argue, but she could not. He was right. She had grown up in the west, where snow was basically nonexistent.
They began walking toward the office, their boots crunching against the snow in rhythm. The compound was quieter now, the earlier crowds having dispersed to their homes.
After a while, Orion spoke.
"Do you think the hair thing has to do with black magic?"
Sophia glanced at him.
"I know it sounds funny," he continued, "but what if it’s not?"
Sophia was quiet for a moment.
"I don’t know," she said finally. "And honestly, I cannot say. But I would not put it past my mother to use something like that on my hair."
She paused, her steps slowing slightly.
"In her own twisted way, she was obsessed with me. Not with love—never with love. But something more similar to control. She wanted me to look like her, to be like her, to belong to her completely. If she thought black magic would help her achieve that, she would have used it without hesitation."
Orion nodded slowly.
"Then perhaps, just in case, you should meet with Madam Tyler."
Sophia looked at him.
"She would be able to help," he said. "If anyone in this pack understands black magic, it is her."
Sophia nodded. "That is true... I’ll meet with her."
They walked a few more steps in silence.
Then Sophia turned to him.
"You are being so sweet today," she said.
Orion raised a brow. "Do you not like it?"
Sophia was quiet for a moment. The snow fell around them, soft and endless, catching in her eyelashes and melting against her cheeks.
"I like it," she said finally. "I like your sweet side. And I also like your annoying side."
Orion chuckled. "Well, I like your annoying side more."
Sophia rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
---
Meanwhile, at a different part of the pack compound, Annabeth stood with members of the Silver Creek pack.
They had gathered in a loose circle around her, their breath fogging in the cold air. Most of them had frowns on their faces, their arms crossed tightly over their chests.
Annabeth’s expression was unreadable.
"Did you hear what they just said?" a man, Josiah, asked her. "The Luna of this pack is Victoria’s daughter."
