My breath catches. A ghost. I’m watching the ghost of my ancestor harvest from these woods like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
She rises gracefully, humming a melody that resonates in my chest. The basket dangles from her arm as she surveys the surrounding trees with obvious affection, touching bark here, adjusting a fallen branch there.
Then I see it—the elk.
The creature emerges from the shadows, massive and majestic, its antlers glowing with the same ethereal silver light as the standing stones. Not reflected light. They emanate it, casting a gentle illumination across the forest floor.
The green witch steps onto a fallen log and swings onto the elk’s broad back with practiced ease. She settles into place, one hand resting on the creature’s neck, her basket secured against her hip.
The elk turns its majestic head toward me. For one breathless moment, I swear it sees me—truly sees me—even if she can’t.
Then they move. Elk and rider melt into the shadows between the trees, the glow fading until only darkness and ordinary moonlight remain.
I stand frozen, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Magic is real. And it runs in my blood.
How freaking cool is that?
My mind is still buzzing from seeing the witch, but I make it through the woods with no other ghostly sightings.
Up close, the standing stones are massive, at least nine feet tall, and arranged in a perfect circle. Nine stones, each carved with intricate symbols that glow with the same blue light. The symbols are nothing I’ve ever seen, yet are familiar, like words in a language I once knew but forgot.
I step between two of the monoliths into the circle, and the humming in my blood intensifies. It feels like power and knowledge, as if the air is charged with potential.
After a moment, I realize each stone pulses with its own rhythm, yet they harmonize together in a silent symphony I feel rather than hear. I approach the nearest one, drawn to the glowing sigils carved into its rough surface.
When I press my palm against the stone, warmth shoots up my arm. Images flash through my mind—women with my eyes, my face, my hands, standing in this same circle through different eras. Generations of Hallowind witches, their power flowing through time, through bloodlines, to me.
“The stones recognize you.”
At the sound of a man’s voice behind me, I spin around and gasp.
CHAPTER SIX
The man who spoke stands in the center of the stone circle—tall, with sharp features and those piercing cyan blue eyes. Despite what happened with him last night at the Halloween party, I’m not overtly afraid.
I’m not an idiot—wariness definitely coils in my chest—but I’m not afraid.
Yet.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Sebastian.” He steps closer, moonlight illuminating his unnervingly handsome face. “I was a friend and colleague of your mother.”
“A witch?”
His expression softens slightly. “Yes.”
I glance back at the house. It’s too bright here and dark there to see him, but I know Asher is watching and likely losing his shit. I give him a thumbs-up and make a mental note to stay a good distance from Sebastian or Asher is going to have a heart attack.
“A friend of my mother’s, so do you know what happened to my parents? The neighbor said they blew themselves up.”
Sebastian’s jaw tightens. “Zoe Hallowind blew herself up? No. That’s bullshit. I have no idea what story was circulated by the local coven to appease the nocana folks, but that’s not what happened. Your mother and I were working together on an incredibly important magical problem. Unfortunately, things went badly.”
Badly.My heart aches at how inadequate that word feels in light of everything I lost that night. “What kind of problem?”
“The kind that threatens everything in both the supernatural and the non-arcana realms.” He runs his hand along one of the stones. “As the problem worsened, the two of us grew more desperate. In the end, we tried something dangerous. Unfortunately, she was killed in the process.”
