_blackhatgirl_ • 4h ago
So what do we think Luka meant in court today? People who persecute witches? Is he blaming his Mom?????
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Arkane9000 • 4h ago
Seems a pretty clear dig. Has he been got at in jail? Offered a deal by the deepstate witchlovers and stickhoppers who infest the judiciary and want to ruin our country? So stupid to come out and say he’s a witch. They’re born liars. Who’s gonna believe a word he says now.
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MarcooftheBeast • 4h ago
Anyone who thinks this is even coming to trial is deluded. Ortiz will make sure it’s dropped. She probably even created this whole drama to raise her profile. She’s trying to surf to the White House on a wave of hate for us magicals.
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ScepticSorceror • 3h ago
‘Us magicals’? dream on. U magical and u wasting ur time sitting on Reddit when u could be out hexing and cursing ppl lmfao.
42 ? 3 ?
Applesarenice • 4h ago
Why werent ther any pictures? What ahev they done to him? I’ve read awfulthing sabout him being attacked, beaten up n all sorts, its disgusting. What are they afriad of us seeing?
187 ? 20 ?
ScepticSorceror • 3h ago
Who are this ‘they’ ur talking about here and what exactly do u think ‘they’ have done to him? Why u wasting ur tears on this witch-trash boy?
6 ? 24 ?
ScepticSorceror • 3h ago
Also witches can heal themselves dumb bitch
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_blackhatgirl_ • 2h ago
I’m really worried about him too Applesarenice
107 ? 4 ?
18
HARPER
My signs disappear by day. By night, they’re erratic. Sometimes I make a mistake, following a shadow or waving tree for miles before realising it was simply nature doing its thing. An arrow of birds that really was just a flock in flight. A weathervane that spun crazily before settling, which must have been a passing gust of wind. Other times, I simply miss whatever sign was sent, or I’ll stop for a bathroom break and lose the thread.
It’s a frustrating, tiring progress. By day, I park up in pullouts so I can catch some sleep without being bothered. At night, my route takes me onto ever smaller roads, rural lanes and rutted tracks where the power of the Greenmagic is strong and I can drive slowly without causing a pile-up. I’m moving away from towns and strip malls. Drive-thrus have disappeared, so I stop at a gear store and buy a small camping stove and some astronaut food, a box of cereal bars and a five-gallon jug of drinking water. The second night of this, I find I’m weirdly enjoying it, despite my impatience to find Lachlan. I text Mom my twice-dailyI’m safe, don’t worry!message and set up the stove. As coffee brews in the long, dwindling twilight, the call of homing birds loud, the gas-bottle hissing and my tiny pan bubbling away, I set my back against a tyre and open Starcross in my lap.
Mom’s mother-in-the-craft was her Gramma Serafina. Mine, because of the choices I made, was this grimoire. I feel as though I’ll never exhaust the lessons it has for me. I could study every page for days. For months or years. Even the two toward the back that contain nothing at all.
I turn to them now. A printer’s error, Mom’s always said. The ink ran dry on the press. Or that’s what Serafina told her. Neither of them ever detected a magical signature off the empty pages. They fascinated me, though. What should be written here? Even if it’s only a charm for cleaning pots or shoeing horses, I’d like to know. Could it really have been a printing error? Or was something removed by one of my Fenn ancestors?
