The glenwe identify as the starting point greets us with a hush, as if the very air knows we’re hunting for secrets. Greenery sways gently, oblivious to the tension knotted in my shoulders.
“I don’t get it,” I mutter, scanning the area for any sign of magic. “Why does Amethyst hate me so much? Revelin, you never led her on or…” I pause to gag for a second, then continue, “…didanything with her, right?”
“Never,” Revelin assures me, his gaze earnest. “I’ve been a fuck boi, I know, but I didn’t cross that line because it might go south and affect my band.”
At least he admits the fuck boi part now.
I shake my head, plucking at a blade of grass absentmindedly. “Women’s feuds are beyond me. If I don’t like someone, I keep my distance. No need for a dramatic saga.” I release the grass, watching it flutter back to earth. “Why can’t we punch it out and move on?”
“Because society expects women to be amiable, not aggressive,” Khol chimes in from beside Dezi, his voice a low rumble of thoughtfulness. “It molds behavior into something more... insidious because it denies emotional resolution.”
“Holy shit,” I snark as I peer at him. “Is that Dr. Beard-o or Khol talking?”
“He’s correct, though,” Dezi nods, his brow furrowed. “There’s never been an allowance for straightforward anger, expression of it, and resolution in the female sphere. It has to go underground, become this twisted, passive-aggressive wound because expressing it was punished for many centuries, witchling.”
Their words swirl around me, but my frustration only grows. “It’s so immature,” I grumble, extending my senses outward, seeking the elusive spell work. “Dealing with it is like finding out evolution took a day off.”
“Ah, but Khorinea’s vendetta is textbook jealousy and insecurity, isn’t it?” Revelin interjects, raising his voice to be heard over the whispering leaves. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry than dealing with her little power plays. She’s never been even a blip on my radar, despite whatever bullshit she made up in her head.”
I sigh again, feeling comforted by his words, but not the situation. “I despise feeling like I’m forced to be at odds with other women for no reason other than they need extensive therapy and cannot respect the clear boundaries I set when they behave poorly. Khorinea comingback time after time is exhausting, as is her determination to join up with other deranged narcissists like Amethyst trying to destroy me. Dude, I’m just living my fucking life, trying to figure out shit like everyone in the universe. Fuck all the way off with your trash takes.”
Tiernan, now sleek fur and predatory grace, winds his way around my legs, his tail looping around my calf in quiet solidarity. The warmth of his support steadies me, and I let out a slow breath.
“Female friends outside of my sister just aren’t in the cards for me, I fear.”
“Maybe,” Revelin says thoughtfully, tilting his head. “Or we could get some non-rigged readings to point us in the right direction...”
“Enough about those stupid cards,” Dezi interrupts, an edge of excitement breaking through his usually calm demeanor. He motions us over to where he stands by a cluster of bushes. “Look here.”
We crowd around him, peering down at the small, moss-covered altar he’s uncovered. My heart skips a beat. This is it—the threshold to answers we desperately need. I kneel beside it, brushing away the debris, ready to delve into whatever lies beneath.
The moss gives way beneath my fingertips, cool and slightly damp, as if the altar is exhaling a long-held breath. Lichen-etched symbols emerge from the greenery, arcane and beckoning. We cluster around it, a ring of anticipation.
“Could this be it?” I murmur, my earlier vexation dissolving into the possibility of discovery.
“If not, someone has a shitty sense of humor,” Khol grunts, his eyes scanning the grooves and ridges of the stone with a practiced eye.
Dezi leans in closer, his brow furrowed as he traces a sigil. “These markings are ancient—older than any text on maps and books we’ve seen.”
“What secrets are you hiding?” I whisper to the altar, extending myhands above its surface. My palms tingle, the air thickens, and I feel the gentle hum of magic pulsating from the stone.
“Careful, lass,” Revelin warns from behind me, but his usual jest is absent, replaced by genuine concern.
Interacting with unknown magic is dangerous—he doesn’t need to remind me of that.
I nod, closing my eyes to sharpen my focus. Power courses through my veins as I draw on the wellspring within, sending delicate tendrils of my aura into the crevices of the altar. The sensation is like dipping my consciousness into a stream of whispers and echoes.
“Anything?” Tiernan asks, his voice a low growl, still in leopard form, alert and ready for whatever may come. The fact that he can speak when he’s shifted is still amazing to me, and I get distracted by it every time.
“Give me a moment,” I reply, the threads of my magic seeking, probing. “This is my first time trying to unweave other people’s magic and I’m not exactly an experienced practitioner, guys.”
“Here,” Dezi says softly, pointing to a nearly imperceptible depression in the altar's corner. “This could be something.”
“Found a trace,” I announce, a faint line of energy glowing beneath my eyelids, snaking around the altar like an ethereal vine. “There’s enchantment here, old and clever. Hidden mechanisms, perhaps. This isn’t just an altar; it’s a gateway.”
“Then let’s unlock it,” Khol says, determination lacing his tone.
Fuck yeah—into the breach we go.
