A path.
New.
Woven of briars, frost-kissed vines, and something… golden.
Not gold.
Golden.
As if I were staring at rays of sunshine wrapped in fog.
Opal leaned in slightly. “It wasn’t here yesterday. We’ve walked this path every morning for the last several days. This wasn’t here.”
“Agreed. I was out here yesterday, too. I’m sure I would have noticed it, especially being so close to the Hedge.”
Lady Limora’s eyes met mine. “We believe it opened for someone.”
“Who?”
“That’s the mystery, isn’t it?” Mara said, flashing a grin.
I took a step closer. The path pulsed faintly beneath the mist, not inviting exactly, but aware.
Alive.
My dad stayed rooted near my boots, letting out a low, inquisitive growl.
I pressed a hand to my hip as my butterfly birthmark tingled faintly. It seemed to whisper a faint direction:Look.
The mist curled along the edges of the new path, leading deeper into the Hedge. It was as if the garden had grown overnight, just enough to change the rules.
“I don’t think this path is dangerous,” Lady Limora said, stepping to my side. “But its origins are ancient.”
“How old?” I asked.
She glanced down the path, her face unreadable. “Older than us.”
That gave me pause.
“I wanted you to see it,” she added. “Before a student stumbles into it.”
I looked at the three of them, vampire women, midlife witches, radiant in their quiet, unyielding way, and felt something warm settle behind my ribs.
“I trust your instincts,” I said.
“Then trust this,” Opal murmured. “It’s not random. This path was made for someone who’s looking for something.”
“Or someone who needs to remember something,” Lady Limora added.
The breeze shifted, curling the mist higher before letting it settle.
A hush fell over the garden.
Opal cleared her throat. “For you, I’d imagine.”
My dad barked once, short and sharp, to get my attention.
And the golden path flittered brighter.
