A/N: This is it! The big reveal! Crazy things happening this chapter (also kinda channeling Harry Potter) - can't wait to see how you like it! Love you all to bits! Please leave comments on the way out! XOXOX!

Chapter 11

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?" Brandon asked as Bloom dismounted the levobike.

"I'm sure," Bloom asserted, looking up at the Cloud Tower School for Witches. From the ground, the fortress looked even more formidable. But Bloom knew her way around this time. "This is something I have to do alone."

She could tell that Brandon was going to protest, his blue eyes clouded with a mix of concern and frustration. It was getting dark out, and they were by themselves on an unsanctioned trip through the woods to the most hostile area in all of Magix. It was like a recipe for disaster, but that didn't change Bloom's mind. Whatever there was to find in the library was hers to find and hers alone. This was a private matter, and while she appreciated all of Brandon's help in transporting her, his presence was no longer wanted nor needed.

"Fine, but keep the coms open," he instructed, tapping on his ear for good measure. "I'll keep watch if anyone comes, but try to be quick. I don't like the feel of this place."

Bloom nodded tersely, agreeing with him though it irked her that he was trying to rush her.

"See you soon," he said, giving his usual two-finger salute before Bloom transformed and flew up through the first opening she could find.

The school wasn't as empty as it was the last time. She could hear voices whispering and laughing from down the hall, the sound of footsteps clicking down stone floors. This must be just like any other day, so she would have to be careful. The path to the library was a familiar one, the fire forever scorching that trail into her memory. She crept around corners, sticking to the shadows until she slipped behind a group of witches as they exited the library, catching the door before it clicked shut.

It looked like the library was closing down for the night, small groups of girls getting up from their tables with selected texts in hand, scrolls tucked under arms for safe keeping while a disgruntled librarian shooed everyone out of sight. Thankfully, the librarian wasn't as keen on cleaning up as Alfea's was; the woman simply raised her hand to cast the failsafe charm and went on her way.

Now Bloom was alone to find the book.

It was still where she left it: sitting on the podium waiting to be opened, her name on the cover beckoning her to it. Bloom felt anxious, nervous even, as she stepped closer and closer to the book. There was so much power in the knowledge it held, the power to change her entire life. Now that she was so close, she was beginning to have second thoughts. Was this really what she wanted? Did she really want to know everything? Because once she dived in, there was no going back.

Steeling herself, she made her decision. She was going to read the book. She didn't come all this way and break a dozen rules for nothing.

Bloom stepped up to the podium and peered down at the book. All she would have to do is open the cover, just take one step at a time. Her hand hovered over the cover in anticipation, fingers thumbing the the spine.

Bloom, think about what you are doing, Daphne said, appearing out of nowhere as she extended one golden hand to pause Bloom's own. Bloom was surprised to see her there. She'd only appeared to her twice before...three times if she counted that weird hallucination at The Day of the Rose. She wasn't expecting one so soon, and definitely not one that included what sounded like the start of a lecture.

"I need to know. And if you won't tell me, I'll have to learn it for myself," Bloom explained, ignoring the golden woman.

Bloom, you are not ready to know the truth.

"I am tired of you and everyone else telling me what I can and cannot do," Bloom snapped, feeling slightly guilty for being mean to someone who had quite literally saved her life but also feeling justified in her anger. Daphne knew something - a lot of things, presumably - about Bloom's past that she was deliberately not willing to tell. If anything, Daphne was one of the factors that led Bloom to seek answers from witches. If Daphne had a problem with Bloom's research method's, she should have been more helpful.

Daphne looked sad, resigned in the way she faded into the background, vanishing from view as to not interfere any longer.

Good. Bloom wasn't going to let anything stop her from opening that book.

She waved her hand to disable the firesafe, cracked the spine, and touched the page.

Immediately, Bloom was overcome with the nauseating feeling of her stomach being turned inside out before she went spiraling headfirst into a ballroom. Where the ballroom came from, she had no clue, but she refused to entertain the notion that the book had eaten her for any longer than she had to. All the blood rushed to her head and then she was there, amongst a swarm of intricately, extravagantly dressed people. They could not see her, or if they did, they did not care to make way for her. Dancing couples knocked her around like a pinball, as if she were nothing as they did not even register her presence. It was bizarre.

Once she made her way out of the war zone that was the dance floor, Bloom tried to call someone, anyone over to her and explain what the hell was going on and where she was. But even as she waved a hand in front of the face of a man in a multicolored suit, it was as if she were invisible.

Bloom did a 360 spin, taking in the entire place. It was a large room, bigger than any she had ever seen and that included the halls in Alfea. The ceilings were high and vaulted, made of stone with lots of stained glass windows dotted along the walls. It almost reminded her of a church, except there were no pews and lots of what looked like liquor circulating around a very inebriated room. Everyone must have been gathered there for someone important - a king perhaps? Was this a palace? It would make sense with this many finely dressed people in one place.

Also, judging by the fashion and the architecture, and the physical attributes of some of the guests, this had to be in the Magical Dimension. That's where Bloom was confused. She was just a girl from Earth. If this was truly something out of her book, then why would it take place in the Magical Dimension?

A laugh pulled Bloom out of her thoughts. Not just any laugh - a familiar one. One she had recently heard, more subdued than what she was hearing now, but definitely the same. She turned sharply in search of the sound, and sure enough, there was the source.

Daphne.

She looked so much different than she did as a Nymph and what her picture showed. It was so strange, yet so fascinating to see her this way. Daphne must have been only a year or two older than Bloom, with soft golden curls and golden brown eyes. She was practically radiating the same amount of gold, just a different kind. Her hair was done up in an elaborate twist, a fitted ballgown making her the belle of the ball. She had a tiara placed on her head, and a blue sash across her waist to distinguish her position. She was seated on a dias, people coming to greet her periodically and bring her gifts while the King and Queen stood off the side, admiring their daughter from a distance.

This party must be for her, Bloom thought. A birthday maybe. But again, what did Bloom's history have to do with her?

Suddenly, the scene changed, as if there were something the book needed Bloom to see. Her attention was drawn to a tall, mysterious looking man across the ballroom. He was sauntering over to Daphne, the crowds parting ways for him. Bloom could feel his sway, the power he had over other people It was intoxicating, but that alone was enough to make her feel wary. No one else felt that way though, including Daphne, who swooned over him as he bowed at the waist and kissed her hand.

The stranger physically towered over the young princess, but she didn't seem to mind that he could crush her. Instead, she graciously accepted his hand to dance, the entire room looking on at the strange, beautiful couple with both awe and jealousy. Bloom's vision spun as they danced, watching Daphne's love-struck expression and the stranger's thin lipped grin. Bloom had the faintest thought that she was watching some form of very powerful magic, but she saw none being used. It was as if the man were seducing her by no means other than his body.

Then it hit her. That's what she could do.

Is this man like me? Bloom thought, her curiosity and alarm skyrocketing.

As if the book could read her thoughts, the scene changed, and Bloom found herself being pushed into another room of the palace. The bedroom to be exact. Daphne's bedroom. Bloom knew this because Daphne was sprawled naked on the bed, curled up in the side of the stranger. Clearly, the sex had not killed her, which made Bloom's curiosity wane. Maybe this guy was not like her. Or maybe he was skilled enough to control himself. Bloom had no way of knowing. All she knew was that his charm, that sense of overpowering presence that the man gave off earlier had waned. Bloom could tell that Daphne felt it too, his spell wearing off as she began to look concerned, scared even.

Bloom could see that the two were talking, and the book took the initiative to turn the volume up so Bloom could hear.

What have you done to me? Daphne asked, and Bloom could hear the sheer panic in her voice.

Nothing my love, the man assured her, his voice low and gravelly, yet still strangely reassuring. He busied himself with stroking Daphne's stomach, caressing the flat skin possessively. Bloom could tell it disturbed her, made Daphne's eyes widen in fear. You won't even remember this night, and neither will your kingdom. And when our precious child finally arrives, this entire kingdom will take to her in stride.

Her? Daphne asked, her voice light and airy, but not in the way it usually was. More in the way that sounded like she was about to pass out.

Yes, her, he repeated, speaking to her stomach now, Daphne herself long forgotten. A perfect future Queen of the Succubi.

What. The fuck.

Did that mean...?

Was that supposed to be...what she thought it was...?

Bloom's mind was reeling, but before she had the chance to fully process what was happening, the scene changed again, the colors distorting and picture blurring until she was in Daphne's room, but at a later time. The golden haired girl was leaned over a bucket off the side of her bed, puking her guts into it. It was disgusting, and Daphne looked so miserable that Bloom couldn't help but feel bad for her.

What is wrong with me? the princess groaned, clutching her stomach. Bloom had a sinking feeling that she already knew.

I'll go fetch a doctor Miss, one of the maids said while another wiped at her forehead with a damp cloth.

I've never seen anything like this before, the maid said, Bloom's ears taking her outside the room to where the woman who had left was conversing private with the King and Queen. It's almost like she is...

Like she is what? the Queen asked, her tone worried as she cast a glance inside to her daughter.

Like she is pregnant, Your Majesty.

That is impossible. If our daughter had any male suitors, we would know, the king said with finality.

Bloom was confused. Did they not just watch their daughter dance the night away with Mr. Tall Dark and Dangerous at the ball? Did they forget he completely existed? What was going on?

The signs are all there: the morning sickness, cravings, sensitivity of the breasts and abdomen. She turned away her favorite meal last night because she thought it spoiled. Her dresses have progressively been getting tighter, the maid said, the King and Queen growing more and more concerned with every word. I mean no disrespect, but perhaps our princess has not been entirely honest about her activities around the palace.

Our daughter cannot be with child, the King said worriedly, his brow furrowed. Not only would it ruin her chances of finding a good suitor, but a pregnancy would ruin the reputation of the Royal Family of Sparks as a whole.

What are we to do, Your Majesties? the maid asked, needing to go back inside and tell her mistress something.

We will claim the child as our own, the Queen spoke up, strong in her conviction. Daphne and I will avoid all social situations for the upcoming months, and when the time comes, I shall claim the child.

Miriam, be reasonable, the King said, shocked that his wife would suggest such a thing. Bloom was in his boat; that was a rather rash plan.

It is the best scenario Oritel. It is the only way to keep the child in the family and still retain our dignity.

The Queen had a point. Still, Bloom was nervous to see how this all ended. She had a feeling she knew how this was going to end, she just couldn't believe it. All she could do was keep watching as the King approached the Queen.

You would be wiling?

We have always wanted another child, the Queen said, a melancholy mirth to her eyes that Bloom was unable to place. I am willing only if you are.

The King came up and embraced his wife, placing a kiss on her forehead and drawing on her strength. It shall be done.

The moment paused and the scene spun once more, making Bloom's head pound. This time she was in a different room of the palace and was faced with a graphic scene that she could've lived her whole life without seeing. Daphne was in the final phases of labor, squeezing her mother's hand for dear life while a nurse instructed her to push as hard as she could.

Daphne pushed as hard as she could, planting her feet in the blood-stained sheets and bearing her weight down. One painful moment later, the child slipped free and into the hands of the nurse, leaving Daphne spent and breathing hard. The baby screeched as its lungs expanded and took in their first burning stretch of air. The baby writhed and cried, seeking the warm safety of its mother. Daphne was lying on the bed, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes as her mother stroked back her sweaty blonde curls that were plastered to her forehead.

Once the nurse was finished cleaning the child, she passed it off to Daphne, who simply lit up as she held her daughter.

What shall we call her? the Queen asked, peering down at her grandchild-soon-to-be-daughter.

Bloom, Daphne panted, exhausted from labor but overcome with joy as she took in her little bundle. Her name is Bloom.

What a lovely name, the Queen praised, placing a kiss on her daughter's head.

The name seemed to echo, the weight of the word reverberating deep into Bloom's bones.

Daphne and her parents stood linked together around the bed, peering down at a baby version of Bloom herself. Their expressions were filled with so much love that Bloom felt like she was going to choke up. But she wasn't quite capable of intense emotion at the moment. Not when her entire knowledge of herself and her life was crumbling down.

Bloom was shocked, though she supposed she saw this coming. She was Daphne's daughter, just like she had been told in the dream. Bloom was wanting, or at least hoping that some part of that statement was metaphorical, not realistic. It felt as if her whole life was a lie, like the parents who raised her were not the people she though them to be. They had never once told her she had other parents, that she was adopted. They never once hinted that she might have had magical connections. Did they even know about that? Even if they didn't, they still never told her she was adopted. That was low. They had deprived her of knowing a crucial part of who she was. Maybe if she had known this sooner, she could have figured out what she was and how to control her nature before now.

She didn't have much more time to ruminate before the scene changed again.

This time it wasn't pretty.

There was fire raining down from the sky, cratering the green grassy plains surrounding the royal palace. People were screaming and crying, the smell of smoke and burning flesh tickling Bloom's nose and making her gag. Everywhere she looked there was destruction. The city was crumbling, falling apart under massive black storm clouds. Bloom knew what this was. In this journey she had simply forgotten.

This was the day the Ancestral Witches attacked. This was the day Sparks died.

Bloom was transported inside the palace, which looked no better from the inside than the outside. The once magnificent rooms were lying in ruin, pieces of the celling falling down, cracking the foundation and squashing the staff underneath millions of tons of stone. The windows were blown out, the decor torn to bits. It was like the book was dragging her down the halls at light speed, showing her the extent of the carnage before depositing her in a nursery.

Daphne was there, as was the baby - herself as a baby, Bloom reminded herself, trying to get used to that face - but they were both in peril. From her perspective, Bloom could see the Ancestral Witches closing in on the pair, their gnarled, ancient hands reaching out to steal whatever power they wanted. Daphne was already dressed up in her Nymph regalia, long golden robe, mask and all. They must've been after her, thinking she had the Dragon Flame.

Outside, the sky was getting darker, almost reaching the palace. There wasn't any time left. Bloom had no idea where the King and Queen were, though she suspected to worst to leave their daughter and granddaughter alone to face the witches.

Where was the Company of Light? Bloom wondered. Surely they had to be around here somewhere. They were supposed to stop the witches. They were supposed to save the day...weren't they?

Bloom's heart was racing. She didn't know how they were going to make it out. They were cornered with nowhere to go, and Daphne, in all her power, could not beat the Ancestral Witches on her own. But Daphne, in all her power, knew that her time was limited as well. Bloom could see the resignation in her eyes, the pain of defeat but the hope of survival.

In one fluid movement, Daphne pulled what looked like a ball of fire from her chest. It crackled with power, its intensity almost blinding even though this was just a memory from a book. She placed that power inside the baby, and with her remaining free hand, opened a portal and cast the baby inside without hesitation.

Bloom was stunned.

The witches were outraged.

In the next moment, all three Ancestresses cast their magic onto Daphne. Bloom heard the words of an incarnation, and then Daphne was screaming. Her body writhed until it fell to the ground, unmoving. A golden light was cast overtop the body, condensing into a single orb before it shot off into the distance. Bloom watched it break the atmosphere, traveling somewhere unknown. The body left behind the ground was unmoving, and though it made her sick, Bloom knew in her heart that Daphne was dead.

She didn't get to see what happened next. She didn't get to see the downfall of the witches or what happened once the baby reached the other side of the portal (though she knew the rest of the story - eventually being found by her parents and raised on Earth). Even though she pleaded with the book to take her back, to show her more, it did not listen. Instead, the book took her somewhere dark, cold, and damp. It wasn't a friendly place, nowhere near as nice as the palace Bloom was used to seeing.

Looking around, Bloom saw that the place was a cave. A cavernous space so tall that she could not see the ceiling. The ground was hard and black, though there was a path illuminated by firelight. The book pushed her through it at top speed until she reached a sprawling city growing out of the stone. Spires rose so high that she could not see the top. The roads were so intricate, bridges overlapping one another in a network that seemed impossible to navigate. At the center of the maze lied a palace bigger than the one on Sparks but made entirely out of dark stone, just like the rest of the city.

Bloom flew up the steps and through the front door. When the book finally slowed her down, she realized it had deposited her a few feet behind a man - specifically Mr. Tall Dark and Dangerous who knocked up Daphne...her father, Bloom realized with a jolt. He looked different than Bloom remembered, more feral somehow. His broad chest was bare, a tunic wrapped around his waist held in place by a bejeweled belt carrying a serrated sword. More alarming were the slants to his eyes which were now serpentine and red, points to small horns protruding from his forehead.

The book seemed to want her to follow him, pushing Bloom in his direction. Horrified but intrigued, Bloom followed.

The man stormed through a set of double doors to what looked like a throne room: a vast narrow hall lined with columns and a large throne composed of stone and bone. There were more horned creatures like him filling the space along the walls, all murmuring to themselves though going silent as the man passed. They all seemed to hold their breath, awaiting what he had to say.

The man dropped to one knee as he approached the figure sitting on the throne. From this distance, Bloom could not yet tell what the figure looked like.

The vessel and her planet are dead, the man said, his words met with gasps and murmurs from the crowd.

The figure on the throne snarled, clearly upset by the news.

And what of the heir? the figure demanded, the voice low and dangerous but feminine.

I have yet to locate her, the man said, clearly disappointed in himself.

The figure on the throne let out a frustrated yell. It rose to stand, and Bloom found herself taken aback by what she saw.

The creature was definitely female, large breasts and muscled body bare for everyone to see. However, Bloom was more focused on her skin which was tinted red and scaled in some areas around her upper arms and legs. Her fists were clenched, but Bloom could still make out her claws - two sharp and deadly sets for her hands and feet (just like her own, Bloom thought, her mind racing with the terrible ideas she was forming). Her eyes were slanted and red just like the man's, and as she shouted Bloom could see the sharp points of fangs protruding from blood red lips. Most fear-inducing of all were her horns: thick, giant protrusions that curved around her ears and came to rest on her shoulders like a ram's. On the center of her head rested an intricate diadem made of black metal dotted with rubies, marking her the leader.

Everyone quieted and quivered at her rage. No doubt she was capable of great destruction. Even Bloom felt a thrill of overwhelming fear just looking at her.

I want the child now! the woman roared so loudly it shook the hall. I don't care what it takes, just find her!

Numerous hulking creatures carrying formidable weapons bowed to the Queen as they took off down the hall, no doubt ready to follow their ruler's orders. As more of them organized to carry out a search, the man stepped up to the foot of the throne and placed a hand on the shoulder of the Queen.

I will find her, my love. Our daughter shall be with us soon enough.

Their daughter? Bloom was confused again. They couldn't possibly be talking about her, could they? Her mother was Daphne. She had just watched herself be pushed out of Daphne's body. It was nothing she would ever forget. Yet still, all signs pointed to Bloom being the one they spoke of. After all, the man was the one to get Daphne pregnant. But he had called her a vessel. That was a strange word to use, especially for the woman who carried your child. He made it sound so impersonal, so distant, as if Daphne wasn't relevant at all.

A moment passed and the Queen seemed to calm, her fire dying down to the point where she was once again seated. Bloom could tell she was still ruminating over something that bothered her. She seemed worried, more so than she was willing to openly express. Her lips were pursed, one hand under her chin as she voiced her thoughts.

If what you say is true and the child has been gifted the Dragon Flame, then she will be more than me, the woman mused, her expression dark as she stared at her departing army. She will be the most powerful succubus to have ever lived.

A perfect queen, the man said, and the Queen smiled a thin-lipped smile. She will rule just as you have ruled: with a strong hand and a firm heart.

And I will be there to guide her to greatness, she finished, a proud gleam in her eye. My daughter, my Bloom.

The feeling of being squeezed inside out struck Bloom once more, her stomach jerking upwards like the opposite of the feeling of falling until she was cast back into the present. Her body jolted as she regained her footing in the library, stumbling backwards from the book that slammed itself shut. Bloom keeled over and rested her hands on her thighs, unable to catch her breath. Soon the breaths turned to hiccups, which turned into full-force sobs.

Bloom sank to her knees, collapsing to the ground, unable to carry the terrible weight of all that she learned.

Daphne was right.

She wasn't ready for the truth.