Thalia’s POV:
“Who are you?”
The man standing beside the injured girl demanded, his voice sharp with suspicion. I didn’t answer—just stared at my bloodstained hands, my mind racing.
The girl’s mother gaped at me in disbelief before dropping to her knees beside her daughter. “Julia, are you okay?”
*Julia.* So that was her name.
“I feel… better, Mama,” Julia murmured, her voice weak but steadier than before. “The pain… it’s gone.”
“But how?” Her mother’s gaze flicked from Julia to me, wide with confusion—and something else. Fear? Awe?
I swallowed hard. “I don’t… I don’t know,” I admitted, holding up my stained palms as if they held answers.
Behind us, murmurs spread through the gathered crowd.
“Black magic,” one muttered.
“She’s a witch,” another hissed.
I whipped a
