Asher comes over and stares outside. “Different how? They look the same to me.”
“They do?” I look over at him, and he genuinely seems confused. “Last night the moonlight made them radiate silvery-white, but tonight, each stone glows with an ethereal blue light that seems to pulse like a heartbeat.”
Asher squints as if he’s trying to see what I see. “Nope, that must be a Hallowind witch thing.”
“Really? You don’t see a blue aura around them?”
He leans closer to the glass. “They look like old rocks in the moonlight.”
I press my palm flat against the cold glass. The same humming I’ve felt throughout the house seems to emanate from them, but stronger, purer.
“I need to go out there,” I murmur.
Asher gives me a skeptical look. “Outside? It’s past midnight. This is how horror movies start.”
“I know it sounds crazy, but the stones are calling to me. It’s like a whispered invitation I feel in my blood.” I open the door and push against the resistance keeping us inside. “House? Please let me go outside.”
I press my forehead against the glass. “I promise I’ll come right back. I’m not trying to abandon my life. There’s still so much I want to know, and I’m not going anywhere. I just need to see them.”
For several seconds, nothing happens. Then I hear a soft snap of energy and feel a strong static shock.
This time, my foot passes out the open door and I step onto the stone patio beyond. Cool night air rushes over me, carrying the scent of earth and moss.
“Holy shit,” Asher whispers. “The house listened to you.”
I lean back through the open door. “Thank you. I won’t be long.”
“Looks like we’re going spelunking in your backyard. Asher moves to follow, but doesn’t get outside. His foot gets stopped by the magical field, and he lets out an exasperated huff. “Seriously? Why can’t I go too?”
We wait, but nothing changes. Asher still isn’t allowed to pass. “I think I’m being held as collateral.”
I push out my bottom lip. “Okay, that’s fine. I’ll be back. Ten minutes, tops. And you’ll be able to see me the whole time.”
His expression goes through a series of emotions but settles on panic. “I won’t be able to get to you if something happens.”
“Dude. Nothing will happen.”
“Poppy, I don’t like this.”
I wave away his concern. “I’ll be fine. Just wait here.”
He scoffs, crossing his arms. “You say that as if I have a choice.”
I chuckle at his frustration as I cross the dew-damp grass. The raised hill where the stones sit is actually farther than it looks. By the time I get to the cluster of trees, I’m winded and slow to a walk.
Even in the dark of night, I can follow the worn moonlit path without issue. There’s a moment of fleeting fear when I wonder about wildlife or snakes in the little forest, but when the chilly shadows envelop me, there’s nothing but familiarity and a sense of coming home.
A shimmer catches my attention deeper in the grove. The air thickens, charged with something that makes every hair on my arms stand on end.
Magic. Raw and ancient.
She materializes between the trees like morning mist taking form. The woman kneels beside a patch of moonlit mushrooms, her dark hair woven with vines and tiny white flowers. She wears a simple green dress that pools around her knees, one hand holding a woven basket while the other gently turns the earth.
Her face—I know that face. Her portrait hangs in the entry hall. She’s a Hallowind witch. One of my ancestors.
“Hello?”
She doesn’t react. Her translucent fingers carefully extract a twisted root, brush away the clinging soil, and tuck it into her basket beside clusters of delicate blooms and fungi that glow with their own soft luminescence.
