"And you believe that because?"
"Because her magic stopped before the damage did. Same pattern as the stream, the forge, the lake." Tristan met Bram's pale gaze steadily. "Someone's using her signature as cover."
"Or she's losing control and doesn't want to admit it." Bram turned to Emmett. "Three incidents in four days before we relocated her. Now another one at the safe house. How many more before we acknowledge the pattern?"
"The pattern is someone targeting her," Tristan said. "Not her targeting anyone else."
Miriam stepped forward. "What exactly happened with the candle?"
"Flame stretched and twisted like something was pulling at it from inside. Turned blue at the edges. When Maren tried to sense what was causing it, her magic lurched sideways and the candle exploded." Tristan pulled out his pad. "Scorch patternon the mantel matches the one at the forge. Same cold-burn signature."
"Cold-burn?" one of the other Council members asked.
"Fire that freezes instead of burning. Shadow magic can do it, but only specific bloodlines." Tristan paused. "Maren's magic doesn't work that way."
"How do you know?" Bram pressed.
"Because I've observed her closely," Tristan said instead. "Standard surveillance protocol. And everything about her magic reads defensive, not aggressive."
Emmett's eyes narrowed slightly but he didn't comment. "What about the wards? Did they hold?"
"Barely. The safe house hasn't been maintained in over a year. Another storm like last night and they might fail with what seems to be attacking her magic."
"Then reinforce them," Bram said. "Or move her somewhere more secure."
"She's secure where she is."
"With you watching her." Bram's tone carried accusation. "How objective can you be when you're the only one spending time with her?"
Tristan's jaw tightened. "Objective enough to document facts instead of jumping to conclusions based on fear. And, if I recall, no one else wanted to go near her."
"Gentlemen." Miriam's voice cut through the tension. "The question isn't whether Tristan's objective. It's whether we're doing enough to find whoever's actually causing these incidents."
"Assuming it's not her," Bram muttered.
"It's not." Tristan's voice went flat. He was tired to the school yard manipulating from Bram. He knew it wasn’t her in ways he just couldn’t explain. "But someone wants us to think it is.Someone with knowledge of shadow magic and access to the town."
Emmett crossed his arms. "You have suspects?"
"Working on it. Boot prints from the vandalism matched three different people, all standard winter boots. The symbols were old folk magic, crude but effective. Whoever's doing this knows enough to be dangerous but not enough to be professional."
"So an amateur with a grudge," Miriam said.
"Or someone being directed by someone with real knowledge." Tristan closed his notebook. "Either way, keeping Maren isolated and protected gives me time to investigate without civilian interference."
"Or gives whoever's targeting her more opportunities to strike," Emmett countered. "How long do you need?"
"A week. Maybe less if I get lucky."
"You have three days." Emmett's expression hardened. "Then we meet again and reassess. If incidents continue escalating, we'll have to consider other options."
"What other options?" Tristan asked, though he knew the answer.
"Relocation outside Hollow Oak. For everyone's safety." Emmett held up a hand before Tristan could argue. "I don't want to exile her. But I won't let fear turn this town into something ugly. If keeping her here means mob violence, we'll find another solution."
Tristan wanted to say exile was just mob violence with official approval.
But Emmett's expression said the decision was already made if things didn't improve.
