Miriam's gaze sharpened. "Bram, we've been over this. Maren's been here two years without incident. Her magic's been tested. She's not a threat."
"Not a threat we've identified yet." Bram gestured toward the woods. "But something left those marks. Something powerful enough to burn through winter wards without triggering alarms."
"Which means it's either very old magic or very new," Emmett said. "Either way, it's not necessarily hers."
"The timing's suspicious." Bram turned to face Emmett directly. "Scorch marks appear the same night townspeople report seeing shadows move unnaturally near the square."
Tristan's jaw tightened. "I haven't received any official reports of unusual shadow activity."
"Because people are afraid to file them," one of the other Council members said. "They remember what happened in her last town."
"Rumors," Miriam said firmly. "Nothing was ever proven."
"Fire killed three people. Her shadows were there. That's not rumor, that's fact."
"Correlation isn't causation." Miriam's voice stayed level, but steel ran underneath. "We investigated her background thoroughly before allowing her sanctuary here. The fire was arson. She was a scapegoat, nothing more."
Bram shook his head slowly. "Perhaps. But the people don't see it that way. They see a witch with dangerous magic living on the outskirts of town, and now they see evidence of magical violence near our lake."
"So we educate them," Emmett said. "We don't throw her to the wolves because it's easier than doing our jobs."
Silence settled heavy over the clearing as wind stirred through pines, sending snow cascading from branches in soft whispers.
Tristan broke the quiet. "What do you need from me?"
Emmett met his gaze. "The town's restless. Winter storms always make people nervous, but this is worse. I've had six people stop by the Mercantile today asking if we're going to 'do something' about the witch."
"Do what, exactly?" Tristan asked.
"That's what worries me." Emmett rubbed a hand across his jaw. "Fear spreads fast in isolated places. Gets people thinking mob justice is the same as real justice."
Tristan knew that particular truth intimately. Had seen it play out in a dozen conflict zones, watched fear turn reasonable people into something ugly and dangerous.
"You want me to keep watch on her," he said.
"Quietly. Not as punishment, as protection." Emmett's expression hardened. "I won't have this Council sanctioning witch hunts. But I also won't pretend the threat isn't real."
"She's not the one in danger from magical accidents," Bram pointed out. "The townspeople are."
"Then we protect everyone." Emmett's voice carried the kind of authority that ended arguments. "Tristan keeps an eye on Maren. Makes sure she's safe and makes sure the town sees we're taking this seriously. If something else happens, we'll have someone there who actually knows what he's looking at."
"And if she is responsible?" Bram pressed.
"Then we'll deal with it appropriately. Through the Council. Through proper channels." Emmett's gaze swept the circle. "Not through fear and accusations."
Miriam nodded approval. The other Council members seemed less certain but didn't argue.
Tristan considered the assignment, running through logistics and complications. Surveillance work in a small town where everyone noticed everything. Protecting someone who'd already been judged guilty in most people's minds. The kind of mission that could go sideways fast if he wasn't careful.
"How close is 'keep watch'?" he asked.
"Use your judgment." Emmett shifted his weight, snow crunching under his boots. "But close enough to respond if something happens. To her or around her."
"She lives alone. Outside town limits."
"I'm aware."
"People will talk if they see me coming and going from her place."
