“I won’t know until I try. Step back for a moment,” Lady Mireya instructed.
Without another word, she turned toward one of the wooden cabinets. From it, she retrieved bundles of fresh herbs, a small crystal vial, and a bowl carved from black stone from one of the shelves. One by one, she crushed the herbs.
When she mixed them with a blue liquid she poured into the bowl, the rich fragrance of moon blossoms, lavender, and pine resin instantly spread throughout the room. Then, she closed her eyes again and raised both hands above the woman.
She began chanting in an ancient language none of us understood— inherited from her witch bloodline. The unfamiliar words rolled off her tongue in a slow, melodic rhythm, carrying an almost hypnotic cadence.
At the same moment, the entire room brighte
