At first, I thought the vines were winning. They had it wrapped tight, thorns digging in, branches twisting around it the way I’d intended. But then the movement changed. The thing didn’t try to tear free. It slipped between the vines instead, winding itself through the bramble until the whole spell started to shift.
The wall of thorns began to lean.
Not outward.
Toward me.
I sucked in a sharp breath.
“What is it doing?” Skonk yelled.
Rendel didn’t answer right away.
He was looking past the hedge, deeper into the trees.
Something in his face changed. It wasn’t fear exactly.
It was recognition.
“Oh no,” he said under his breath.
Above us, the shadows that had been circling slowed, their restless motion easing into something deliberate. They didn’t disappear.
They watched.
And the air in the clearing went tight and heavy, like the moment before a storm finally breaks.
The mist beyond the trees thickened again, curling around the trunks like pale fingers.
Something moved inside it.
At first, it was only a darker shape within the fog.
Tall.
Still.
Watching from the edge of the forest.
The shadow on my shoulder tightened its grip on the mark.
And the vines of my Hedge magic twisted harder, as if responding to whatever presence had stepped into the trees.
Nova noticed it next.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“Maeve…”
I followed her gaze.
Through the thinning mist, someone stood just beyond the reach of the clearing.
Not one of the shadows.
Something else.
Someone.
