The sprites flared brighter as they darted around the cauldrons, their movements quick and agitated now.
“Easy,” I said quietly. “We’ve got this.”
I stepped around the cauldron and followed the thin line of distortion to where it disappeared into the seam of the floor. The stone there gave off a faint pulse, something most people would never notice. But the Academy’s mark burned along my skin, and it made the glow impossible to miss.
My birthmark flared again, sharper this time, like it was pushing me forward.
I slowed for a moment.
Getting closer meant stepping directly into whatever loop the Priestess had created. The cauldron wasn’t just pulling power. It was a connection. If I touched it, she would feel that, but then again, she already knew I was here.
That had been clear the moment the cauldron tightened under my gaze. She was waiting now, watching to see what I would do next.
The thread pulled again, a little stronger this time, and something in that movement felt almost… impatient.
She hadn’t been surprised when the Academy woke. If anything, it felt as though she had been counting on it.
Perhaps waiting so she could infiltrate when our thoughts were elsewhere.
Which meant this wasn’t a reaction to the Academy stirring.
It was part of a larger plan.
Behind me, the memory cauldrons flickered again. One of the sprites spun wildly for a second before catching itself, its glow noticeably dimmer than before. The others darted around it, their movements sharp and restless as they tried to keep the heat balanced.
My jaw tightened.
“You don’t get to feed off this,” I muttered.
I felt a pulse of energy stutter and I smiled.
“No more.” I didn’t raise my voice. There was no point in that. The words were simply a fact.
I drew in a slow breath and let my thoughts settle. Fighting the Priestess head-on would only give her exactly what she wanted. She had slipped her magic into a seam, but seams were where my magic worked best.
Hedge Witch magic had never been about overpowering anything. It lived in boundaries and in the moment when a pathnarrowed, when a gate closed, when a line that had been crossed was quietly restored.
I felt anger rolling off her entry point. She hadn’t expected me to find her.
Satisfaction wove through me as I thought about my quiet magic and followed the thread through the Flame Ward.
The anger in her magic led me straight to its source.
Her.
I felt her shape, but I didn’t picture the Priestess. I pictured my grandmother.
Mariselle.
A woman no better or worse than me,
“Not this way, grandmother,” I murmured.
The cauldron jerked sharply, and for a moment something pushed back from the other side, a flash of cold resistance that made my vision blur at the edges.
As I tightened the boundary, the magic surged through my hands in a way I’d never felt before—warm and steady, humming through my fingertips.
The Academy answered the pull, its strength rising through the Ward and into me until the seam closed beneath my hands, and my grandmother’s presence was pushed cleanly out.
