“Let’s get inside where it’s warm,” June suggested as Harriet’s cottage came into view, the light by the front door glowing merrily in the frosty night.

  The soles of their boots crunched on the gravel of the small, snow-covered front yard. June glanced at the icicles hanging precariously from the eaves. A sigh escaped her lips—a soft, cloud-like puff in the frigid winter air.

  She knew she had to act, to find the source of the darkness before it consumed Stonebridge—and before Lucas pieced together the truth about her. Her abilities were growing, untamed and unpredictable, but she needed them now more than ever.

  “June, you okay?” Harriet asked, her eyes soft with concern.

  “Fine,” June lied, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Just tired, that’s all.”

  Harriet nodded, her expression still etched with worry as she fumbled with her house keys.

  June took them from her and unlocked the door. “Go on in and get warm. I’ll be right behind you.”

  She followed her friend into the cottage, and the moment she stepped into the cosy interior, a sense of familiarity washed over her. The scent of old books and worn wood mingled with the lavender springs that hung from a hook by the door.

  It was a haven in the midst of the acrid metallic stench that’d erupted in the market, and she wondered if there was a dash of magic in the mortar that held the little house together.

  As June closed the door behind her, shutting out the chill of the night, she felt a shiver run down her spine. The events of the day weighed heavily on her mind, and she knew she couldn’t afford to let her guard down. The darkness looming over Stonebridge was not something to be taken lightly.

  Harriet had already settled herself by the crackling fire in the hearth, a worried look still lingering in her eyes. “What a night.”

  “Yeah, I’m actually worried about Alistair,” June murmured. “The last I saw him, he was at his stall.”

  Harriet nodded, wrapping a warm throw around her. “I’m sure he’s okay,” she said, but uncertainty clouded her brown eyes. “He’s always had a knack for handling things.”

  “I’ll say.” June forced a tight smile before glancing at the door. “Will you be okay? I don’t think I’ll be able to sit still until I know he’s all right.”

  “Of course. I’ll be fine,” Harriet reassured her with a small smile, her hands clutching the blanket around her. “Just be careful out there.”

  June nodded, pulling her jacket tighter around her frame as she stepped out into the cold night. The familiar streets of Stonebridge had taken on a creepy aura, the usually comforting cobblestones now slick and treacherous with melting ice.

  As she approached the market, the scent of smoke was still sharp in the air. The fire engines were still parked alongside the square, their lights flashing as the firefighters packed up their equipment.

  Several market stalls were blackened and charred, their once vibrant displays now reduced to cinders. The pungent smell of scorched wood and burnt wares stung her nostrils as she looked around for other members of the coven. Seeing none, she darted across the wet street toward Alistair’s candle stall.

  But as she approached, a sense of dread coiled in her gut as she saw the deserted stall. The structure was nothing more than a charcoal silhouette now, dotted with blobs of melted glass and wax.

  “June.”

  She turned at the sound of Alistair’s voice and there he was, standing unscathed at the edge of the square, his face lit by the dim streetlights. A wave of relief washed over her at the sight of him.

  It was then she noticed the small group clustered around him. Members of the coven she hadn’t met yet, but recognised by the light of their magic shining through their auras.

  “Are you all right?” Alistair asked.

  “I’m fine.” June nodded. “The fire⁠—”

  “Not here,” he interrupted, guiding her toward the apothecary as the other witches disbanded. “We need to⁠—”

  “Alistair Blackthorn!” an enraged voice bellowed. “Stay right there!”

  Chapter 11

  “Blackthorn!” Mayor Hayes called out, striding over with a look of pure rage on his face. “This catastrophe happened under your watch. What have you got to say for yourself?”

  Alistair’s irritated gaze met the Mayor’s without flinching. “Samuel, I wish I had answers,” he said, his voice steady. “But this… This was unlike any magic we’ve known. No one knew it was coming.”

  June bristled, wondering if she should’ve done more. Now it was over, she knew her visions had been warning her of this moment, but how was she to know?

  “Unacceptable,” the Mayor spat. “You’re supposed to have control over your people. If magic is at play here, then you’re accountable!”

  June felt an echo of the flames, a heat that threatened to ignite once more with each word they exchanged. Her gaze moved to the blackened stalls, her magic simmering.

  “Samuel, we are doing all we can,” Alistair insisted. “We must work together to⁠—”

  “Work together?” Mayor Hayes scoffed, his words sharp. “Your idea of cooperation nearly turned Stonebridge to ash!”

  Silence fell heavy amongst the witches who’d lingered, the Mayor’s ignorance fuelling another kind of fire. June clenched her fists, feeling the prickling energy of her own power beneath her skin, eager to show him what he was really dealing with. But she held back, knowing well the delicate balance that existed between all things, though she was tired of always being pushed aside.

  “Mayor,” June said, finding her voice. “We’re all shaken. Let’s focus on the recovery, not the blame.”

  Hayes turned his piercing gaze to her. For a moment, silence reigned again.

  “June Morgan, is it?” he asked, spitting each word at her like poisoned bullets.

  She hesitated at the unexpected venom in his voice. “Yes⁠—”

  “I remember your parents. This is their legacy, isn’t it?” He gestured to the charred remains of the market stalls.

  “Samuel, that’s enough,” Alistair hissed. “If it wasn’t for June, we wouldn’t have got to the fires in time.”

  June glared, her anger growing with each passing second. Taking a deep breath as Alistair and the Mayor continued to bicker, her gaze focused on the ground, where a thin sheet of ice had formed over a puddle, untouched by the surrounding destruction.

  Was her parent’s deaths going to follow her around forever? The Mayor had no idea what she’d been through. He was just a blowhard—full of hot air and had a total lack of accountability, just like a true politician.

  She focused on the puddle, her glare fading as the ice drew her deeper. Within its crystalline surface, she caught a glimpse of something that made her breath catch—a distortion in the reflection, a shadow that didn’t belong.

  “June?” Alistair’s voice was distant, muffled by the pounding of her own pulse in her ears as she stared at the puddle.

  “Look,” she whispered. “Do you see it?”

  Alistair turned his gaze downward, but the Mayor’s impatience would not be ignored.

  “Blackthorn, I demand your full attention!” Hayes snapped.

  “Samuel, please,” Alistair said wearily. He placed a hand on June’s shoulder, guiding her focus away from the ice. “We’ll discuss this later. The coven needs to confer on the matter. Despite your apparent belief that I’m an insufferable know-it-all, I don’t know everything.”

  The Mayor’s face began to turn red, but no one was paying him anymore attention.

  June allowed herself to be steered away, her mind still reeling from the strange vision in the ice. They moved out of earshot of the Mayor, who muttered a string of rather unprofessional words under his breath.

  “What did you see, June?” Alistair asked, searching her face for clues.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted, turning to glance back at the puddle, now just an ordinary patch of water. “There was something…off. Like a shadow that shouldn’t have been there.”

  Alistair said nothing, his gaze moving back toward the market.

  “Could it be linked to the fires?” she asked.

  “Perhaps…” He trailed off, leaving June with a gnawing uncertainty.

  “Could it be the wards?” she went on. “They’re about to be renewed. What if they’re failing?”

  “That’s a possibility,” Alistair admitted, his gaze far off as he considered the implications. “We’ll have to investigate. Come, let’s head to the apothecary. No doubt Mirabel is waiting for us there.”

  They turned to leave the square, the Mayor’s bitter complaints growing faint behind them. The town was still abuzz with the aftermath of the fire, the fire engines rolling out of the square, their work done.

  A few people had hung around to watch the fire crews work, but most had left. June’s gaze moved to The Corner, where the lights were still ablaze in the windows, casting shadows across the cobblestone streets and illuminating the darkening sky. Lucas was way too observant, and she knew she’d been doing a terrible job of keeping her secret, well, secret.

  The bell above the apothecary’s door rang hollowly as Alistair and June entered the store.

  “Ah, you’re here,” Elaine said, peeking out from behind a shelf stacked with colourful bottles. “We’ve been restless waiting, but we saw that the Mayor had caught you.”

  Alistair glared. “Insufferable⁠—”

  “Now, now,” Mirabel said. She sat at a heavy oak table that served as the apothecary’s centrepiece, her silver hair reflecting the dim light from the overhead fixtures. “Samuel may be tedious, but he serves a purpose.”

  June raised her eyebrows, wondering why the coven tolerated such behaviour if they had the power to supersede him. Literally, that was. There had to be a spell to turn down the arrogance. She shook her head and sighed, knowing it wasn’t exactly ethical to alter someone’s personality, no matter how annoying they were.

  “He plays a crucial role in the balance of our town,” Mirabel went on. “Much like each of us, he has a part to play.” Her eyes glinted with a silent warning to Alistair.

  June swallowed nervously and moved closer to the table. She glanced at Elaine, who was now tidying up the bottles at the counter, her wild hair reflecting the mix of colours from the liquids within each glass vessel. She hummed under her breath, an old tune resonating with the energy in the room, which felt electric and tense.

  “I understand you had a vision,” Mirabel said, looking up at June.

  She hesitated, then stepped forward. “Yes, they were dreams at first,” she began, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her chest. “Dreams I put down to stress.”

  The older witch’s expression softened. “Ah, yes. You have taken on a great deal.”

  “It was after I found the remains of that ritual in the woods,” June continued. “I dreamed of red snow falling from the sky, and there was a cat, the same as the one in the remnants of the ritual and—” She paused, taking a breath to steel herself for their reactions. “At work, I had a waking vision—my hands were turning blue, frostbitten.” She held out her hands, palms up, though they now looked perfectly normal. “Then I started to see the red snow while awake.”

  Elaine leaned forward, her eyes sharp. “You told me about your vision of the snow, but I couldn’t sense anything wrong. The woods were still.”

  “Then I saw it again at the market,” June added. “Right before the fires broke out.”

  “Magical fires.” Alistair rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his brows knitting together. “These are troubling signs.”

  “Yes,” Mirabel echoed, her gaze locking onto June’s. “Have you ever had visions like these before?”

  “No. Never.” She searched their faces for answers.

  “Fire, ice… It’s elemental, certainly,” Elaine muttered, almost to herself. “Opposing forces clashing.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Mirabel said. “But let’s not ignore the warnings either.”

  “June, you said you saw something in the ice,” Alistair murmured. “Just now.”

  “Yes,” June murmured, her gaze dropping to her hands. She remembered how the ice had seemed to ripple, distort, as if it were a thin veil about to tear apart. “It was a shadow. I’m not sure…”

  Mirabel’s eyes glazed over for a moment, then she blinked, her irises returning to normal. “There have been no signs of a change in the balance since the shadow entity was banished to the bone amulet,” she told them. “The ritual, had it worked, would’ve produced signs that are easily followed.”

  “But there’s nothing?” June asked. “I don’t understand.”

  “Magic can work in mysterious ways,” Alistair replied. “There are spells and enchantments that can conceal power.”

  “Even from a coven as large as ours?” she wondered, her brow creasing.

  “Perhaps it’s time we consider using June as a beacon,” Mirabel suggested, her voice calm yet commanding. “If she’s the one to have these visions, she might draw out whatever lurks in the shadows.”

  June tensed, feeling as if ice water had been poured down her back. “No,” she snapped. “All you’ve done since I got back is warn me about dark magic. How it whispers promises and then ensnares you…and how I’m more susceptible to it because of my parents.” She locked eyes with each of them in turn, her own gaze steely. “It cost my parents their lives and I still don’t know why or how. I won’t do it.”

  “June, we would never put you in harm’s way,” Alistair began, but she cut him off.

  “Yet here we are, discussing me as bait for something you don’t understand,” June argued, her voice rising. “I’ve felt it watching me. In the woods, for weeks now, there’s been this sense of eyes on my back. You told me to be cautious, to respect the power that flows through Stonebridge, that nothing was wrong. If you can’t sense what I see, when it’s so obvious, then what does that say about me?”

  Mirabel’s expression tightened, the lines around her eyes deepening. “We’re not suggesting recklessness,” she said, her tone softening. “But your connection to these omens can’t be ignored.”

  “Connection or curse?” June countered, her words edged with frustration. “We don’t know what this is. It could be leading me into a trap.”

  “June’s right,” Elaine chimed in, her mismatched earrings swaying as she nodded. “The darkness in those woods has always been tricky. We can’t underestimate it. It’s hiding from us for a reason.”

  “You believe me?” June asked. “I thought⁠—”

  “Never underestimate the wisdom of intuition,” Elaine interrupted. She lifted a hand, running her fingers through her auburn curls, a habit when she was deep in thought. “Your visions stir the earth beneath our feet and rustle the leaves on the trees. They may hold answers we’ve been seeking, or warnings we’d do well to heed. But we must be careful, as we might disturb something that’s been long dormant. These woods are ancient and hold a lot of magical residue.”

  “I don’t like the idea of using June,” Alistair said, sharing a look with Mirabel. “I think we should study the magic used in those fires, and investigate how the snow appeared, then attempt to track it to its source.” He shared a glance with June. “All things that will take time.”

  Time? What time did they have when the emery had already attacked innocent people? It wouldn’t be long before it happened again.

  June wanted to argue, but kept her mouth tightly closed. But why attack the market in the first place? Was it just to cause chaos and division? And what did the red snow and shadow in the ice have to do with it? Was the ritual she found in the woods the trigger for all of it? Her mind was chaos, filled with too many thoughts and theories that seemed to make little sense.

  Mirabel stood, her presence commanding as she radiated magic. She traced her finger over an intricate pattern engraved on the wooden table, worn smooth by countless changes in shop displays. “The answers we seek are draped in shadow,” she stated with rigid certainty. “We must cast our net wider. Look beyond what is seen.”

  It sounds as if she’s using divination, June thought. Mirabel was queued up to teach her that very discipline.

  “Are you suggesting—” Elaine began, but Mirabel raised a hand to silence her.

  “We rally the coven,” she declared, her voice resonating with authority. “Every witch and warlock under our banner will scour the woods. Omens have been unearthed, ritual remnants that reek of dark intent. If there is a force amassing against us, it has to leave traces. And we’ll find them… Then we’ll find it.”

  June’s heart skipped a beat. Sending the coven into the woods felt like prodding a wasp’s nest. Yet she kept her doubt to herself, her words caught in her throat. Mirabel had foresight gained from decades of guarding the coven and the woods that surrounded Stonebridge. If she believed this was the way, who was June, a mere fledgling who could barely control her own magic, to question her?

  “We begin our work tomorrow,” Mirabel continued. “Spread the word. We move as one, with purpose and caution. This is our home. We allow no entity, dark or light, to claim ultimate dominion over it.”

  As the others nodded, June’s gaze drifted toward the window where a thick frost had begun collecting on the glass. Out there, in the dark of night, the woods loomed…

  “June?” Alistair’s voice pulled her back, his brow furrowed with concern.

  She flinched slightly, snapping out of her reverie.

  “We don’t want you to worry about joining the search. If this threat is targeting you, then I won’t put you in harm’s way,” he went on. “You’ve got enough to handle with your elemental magic lessons and your job at The Corner.”

  “It’s late,” Mirabel said kindly. “Head home and get some rest. It’s been a long night.”

  Elaine threaded her arm through June’s and smiled brightly. “I’ll walk with you,” she declared. “It’s on the way to my place, you know.”

 

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