Turning the shower on, I step in as soon as the water is spraying and don’t wait for it to heat up. The bitter cold is a good reality check after a night with her—and the shock to my nervous system I need to get my head on straight.
The unexplainable hold she has on me is exactly why I’ve done everything I can to not find her in our dreams for the last couple of months. It took an extreme amount of effort, and I had to give up restful sleep, but it was the only way to start my life—and to have some possibility of a life with someone.
It wasn’t the exhaustion beginning to weigh on my bones that pushed me to let my guard down and get the rest I needed.
I justmissedher.
And I was worried. There’s always a strong layer of despondency lingering under her other emotions—no matter how happy or content she is some nights, it’s there. Just like last night. Buried under the angerand betrayal, sadness clung to her like a cat’s claws. There’s no way to be sure, but from the way she bowed over, holding her head in her hands, and the dry, ashy taste of grief that coated my throat, she was crying.
It became clear that the weird limbo we’re stuck in is better than avoiding her.
Right now, I don’t have time to think about it. Or her.
Part of my perception includes the ability to see when there are big changes coming. Like my sister, I don’t always understand exactly what that means until I find it. Something in my gut is tugging me out of this house and town.
My mom gently holds my cheeks and looks me in the eye with a somber expression. There are many unspoken words flitting across her expression, but she’ll never voice them.
If only because she knows how important it is for Sybil and me to follow our powers—to trust them. As a Hearth Witch, like the rest of our siblings, my mom doesn’t quite understand this wanderlust that has plagued Sybil and me our entire lives. It’s the curse of Divination Witches—to always be searching for more, for what comes next, until we finally land where the fates want us.
My mom’s and siblings’ natural instincts are to build a home, or maybe a tavern, apothecary, or healing clinic like the one she runs from our house. It’s their innate need to take care of those around them.
Our father’s side of the family are a long, respected line of Hearth and Green Witches. They’ve owned the apothecary in Junimere since it was established. He doesn’t have any magical abilities—it happens randomly throughout generations—but Sybil and I have always felt like he had his own capabilities, even if they’re not strong enough to result in his own powers.
Maybe it’s her magic, or because she’s our mother, but she’s always sensed what Sybil and I needed, and has never made us feel any less a part of the family than our siblings. That’s not always the case for all Divination or Gray Witches.
“You’ll take care of each other?” she asks.
Nodding, I promise, “We always do.”
“I know, dear,” she murmurs, a single tear sliding down her aged cheek. “I’m going to miss you. Your father and I have accepted that this wouldn’t be your home forever.”
A small ache starts in my chest. “This will always be our home,” I insist.
“Yes, because your father and I are here. But you both need to findyourhome—where you can thrive. That’s not here.”
“I’m not even sure that’s what we’re searching for right now,” I admit, suddenly reluctant.
“I do,” she says in a resolute, firm voice. “I don’t need your powers to know that—a mother’s intuition is the strongest type of magic.”
With a small smile, I wrap my arms around her and place a soft kiss on her head. She smells like evergreen trees and candied apples. I wish I could bottle it so I’d have her comfort wherever we end up.
“I think I’m going to need a little help letting you two go,” she murmurs and tightens her arms around me.
Understanding what she means, I pull back and look down at her. “Mom, I can’t.”
“Your magic is a gift, Archer, not a flaw,” she reminds me for the millionth time in my life.
With a sigh, I let my magic loose between us. She’s filled with grief and loneliness, already feeling the weight of our absence before we’ve left. Underneath it is a thick, strong current of pride. I focus on that, bringing it to the forefront, and let mine and Sybil’s love for her be a balm to the ache in her heart.
I pick up something else, much more subtle. Curiosity and longing. It’s projected toward my twin and me, like she’s aware of this force calling us away, but she doesn’t have the need to follow it herself.
We hold each other for a long moment before she moves to Sybil, holding her and whispering something in her ear.
She’s still in the prophetic trance, but there’s more recognition as my mom’s words and protective charms settle over her. Without saying anything, she holds my mom by her shoulders and just stares at her.
My mom doesn’t break eye contact, communicating in that silent way only our mother has ever been able to do.
By the time we get in the car and drive away, it’s unceremonious to leave the last twenty-eight years of our life behind. Neither of us turn back.
