Moira nodded, closing the book gently. "Be careful, Maren. If whoever's controlling the locket realizes you know about it, they might escalate before you're ready."
"They've already escalated." Maren moved toward the door, her shadows swirling with renewed purpose. "I'm just finally starting to catch up."
15
TRISTAN
Tristan found Maren leaving the Book Nook just as twilight settled over Hollow Oak.
She emerged from the shop looking more focused in a way that went beyond simple determination. Her shadows moved with purpose around her feet, no longer the anxious creatures they'd been in the square.
"We need to talk," she said immediately.
"Later. Emmett's called a town meeting." Tristan fell into step beside her, guiding them toward the Council Hall. "The incidents today pushed things over the edge. People are demanding answers."
"Answers or a scapegoat?"
"Probably both." He kept his voice low as they navigated through streets growing darker by the minute. "Mills said it's already packed. Standing room only."
"They're going to blame me for everything."
"Yeah. Which is why I'll be right there making sure they remember the difference between accusations and evidence." Tristan's jaw tightened as they approached the hall, light spillingfrom every window and voices carrying through the walls. "Stay close. Don't let them separate us."
The hall was chaos barely contained.
Bodies packed every available space, standing shoulder to shoulder, faces flushed with fear and anger. The air smelled of wet wool, woodsmoke, and the particular tension that came from too many frightened people crammed into too small a space.
Emmett stood at the front, his broad frame imposing even among the crowd. Miriam sat to his right, silver hair gleaming in the lamplight. Elder Bram occupied the left, his expression cold and satisfied so that it made Tristan's instincts flare.
This was what Bram had been waiting for. Permission to act.
Conversations died as Maren entered, heads turning to track her movement through the crowd. Tristan kept himself positioned between her and the worst of the hostility, reading body language, cataloguing threats.
Thomas Wells stood near the front, surrounded by a group of men who looked ready for violence. The woman whose daughter had seen shadows in mirrors stood with her arms crossed, face set in hard lines. Rufus Tansley leaned against a wall, expression neutral but watchful.
"Order," Emmett's voice cut through the murmuring. "We're here to discuss the incidents, not to hold a trial."
"Seems like the same thing to me," someone called from the back.
"Then you're not paying attention." Emmett's gaze swept the room, commanding in its authority. "The Council recognizes that fear is running high. Multiple magical incidents in a short period have understandably shaken people's sense of safety. But fear doesn't give us permission to abandon due process."
"Due process?" Thomas Wells stepped forward. "My shop's been vandalized three times. My wards are cracked. My familydoesn't feel safe sleeping in their own home. How much process do we need before admitting what's obvious?"
"That we have a problem, yes. That Maren Pitch is responsible?" Emmett shook his head. "That requires evidence."
"The evidence is everywhere!" A woman near the middle shouted. "Shadow magic at every incident. Shadow signature on every scorch mark. And she's the only shadow witch in Hollow Oak."
"That you know of," Tristan said, his voice carrying across the room without shouting. "Shadow magic requires specific bloodline traits which makes them the perfect target to replicate because no one would assume it’snota shadow witch.”
"Or she's just losing control," Bram said smoothly. "Bloodline magic can destabilize during times of stress. Perhaps Miss Pitch isn't deliberately causing these incidents. Perhaps her power is simply too great for her to manage safely within a populated area."
Maren's shoulders tensed beside him. Tristan could feel her preparing a defense, could sense her magic beginning to rise.
He touched her wrist briefly, a silent signal. Not yet. Let them talk themselves into corners first.
"I'm not losing control," Maren said, her voice steady despite every eye turning toward her. "My magic has been interfered with, yes. Something external has been triggering responses I didn't command. But I'm not causing the damage."
"Anyone can say that as an easy excuse," someone muttered.
