Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
— REESE LOGAN SAT IN BED, her mind playing an endless rerun of a nightmare that plagued her dreams at night: a woman with rope wrapped around her neck and a cruel smile on her lips as she passed a curse onto her family. The curse that ultimately caused the deaths of her parents, that brutal fire taking everything from her. A curse that Reese either had to break or was doomed to watch any man she falls in love with die. Reese laid there, tangled in her sheets, sweating profusely as she felt the flames lick at her skin as if she had been in the house; her body burned with a fever and she stomach churned uneasily. As she fought back the urge to vomit, Reese Logan decided that she hated Morgana Piedmont. She hated the way her thin finger pointed at the villagers as she called upon the powers that flowed through her, shouting at them that any man involved with a Piedmont descendant would face a horrific death. Most importantly, Reese hated that she was given the burden of fixing this shit.
Reese Logan was many things: a caring older sister, a loyal friend, the star athlete at her old school and an all around happy person — well, she was —, but a witch? Reese wasn't sure that she could be that. Apparently, her witch ancestors thought differently. And so did Flynn. Every day after school, between the hours before Beverley and Rufus got home from work, Reese would sit at the O'Connell's kitchen table with her friend fidgeting behind her as they read through the old leather bound book Reese found in her closet — and took without telling her aunt — with spells created by a Piedmont witch in every generation, searching for the one that would finally end their problems. And Reese was tired. She was tired of reading the list of names the curse had snatched up greedily and she was tired of having dreams of Morgana Piedmont hanging from an oak tree and watching the villagers — who wore faces of those taken by her words — fall silently to the ground as flames erupted from the ground and swallowed them.
In the weeks that had passed since Reese discovered the prophecy and shared it with Flynn, they'd come up with nothing. No cold one was ever mentioned and so far there wasn't one helpful incantation or potion that could break a curse of this severity. So, basically, they were stuck and Reese was sick and tired of this weight getting heavier with no end in sight. So, Reese stayed in bed as her clock slowly ticked down the minutes until she was sure to be late for school. Elizabeth had come to check on her, but after setting a hand on Reese's sweating forehead she'd called the school saying that the eldest Logan was sick and wouldn't be coming in that day. Reese was happy to sit there and do nothing, but that allowed her time to think. And thinking was dangerous; it meant that she was forced to remember that her sibling's lives literally were in her hands and they would either a. die or b. watch the one's they loved die. Reese couldn't bear it, so she threw back her blankets and shivered at the cold air that was slithering in through an open window.
