Book 1 Chapter 2
1148 Words
Moonrise Lighthouse — 12 years later
The lighthouse always felt different at night, quieter, older, like it remembered things the rest of the Cove had forgotten. Tonight, it felt like it was holding its breath. Ari sat on the worn wooden floor with her four best friends, a circle of sleeping bags and half‑eaten snacks around them. The lantern above cast a soft, golden glow, and the sea outside crashed against the cliffs in a steady rhythm.
Their last night together before she left. Cora sprawled across her stomach, kicking her feet in the air. “You know, you could still cancel your flight. Just stay here and become a beach hermit with me.”
Cina snorted. “She’s not running away to avoid taxes, Cora. She’s going to Scotland. For research. For her future.”
“For her destiny,” El murmured, hugging her knees to her chest.
Wynter, curled up beside Ari, rested her head on Ari’s shoulder. “I don’t like it,” she whispered. “The woods have been… strange all week.”
Ari tried to smile. “Everything feels strange when you know you’re leaving.”
But that wasn’t the whole truth. The lighthouse hummed beneath them, faint, almost imperceptible, like a heartbeat in the walls. The same hum she’d felt when they were twelve.
Cora sat up suddenly. “Okay, we’re not doing sad vibes. Ari Thorne is going to Scotland! Land of castles, kilts, and questionable weather!”
Cina rolled her eyes. “And ancient curses. And missing researchers. And—”
“Cina,” Ari warned.
Cina sighed. “Fine. But if you get eaten by a kelpie, I’m not fighting it.”
Ari laughed a real one this time, and the tension eased. They talked for hours. About everything and nothing. About Maeve Thorne. About the future. About how they’d all visit during spring break and terrorize the Highlands together.
Eventually, the lantern dimmed, and one by one, the girls drifted to sleep. Ari stayed awake the longest. She lay on her back, staring up at the lantern room above, listening to the sea and the soft breathing of the girls she loved more than anything. Her chest tightened. Leaving felt wrong. Necessary, but wrong. The lighthouse hummed a soft vibration beneath her palms. Ari whispered into the dark, “I’ll come back.” The lighthouse answered with a flicker of light.
Ari stood in the kitchen doorway, suitcase by her feet, watching her father burn pancakes. Thomas Thorne was many things: kind, patient, stubborn, but a cook he was not. Still, he tried every time she had a big day. It was their tradition. He flipped a pancake that was more charcoal than breakfast. Ari smiled. “You know we could just… not eat those.” Thomas turned, spatula in hand, eyes softening when he saw her. “And break tradition? Not a chance.”
He set the plate of ruined pancakes on the table with a flourish. Ari sat. “They look… crispy.”
“Thank you. I worked very hard.” They both laughed, but the sound was thin, stretched over the ache neither wanted to name. After a moment, Thomas sat across from her, hands folded tightly. “You don’t have to go, Ari.”
She swallowed. “I do.”
He nodded, but his eyes were glassy. “Your mother would be proud.” Ari looked down at the journal beside her plate, Maeve Thorne’s journal—the one he’d given her last night.
“I hope so,” she whispered.
Thomas reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will.”
“And call when you land.”
“I will.”
“And if anything feels wrong—”
“Dad,” Ari said gently. “I’ll be okay.”
He didn’t argue. He didn’t believe it either. When the taxi honked outside, Thomas stood and pulled her into a tight hug, the kind that made her feel twelve again, small and safe and loved.
“Come home,” he whispered into her hair.
Ari closed her eyes. “I will.”
She didn’t know that the moment she stepped onto the plane, the wards in the Highlands would tremble again. She didn’t know Bram felt it. Or the castle. Or the witch who’d been waiting for this moment.
Ari knew only one thing: she was leaving Blackwater Cove. And something, something ancient, was waiting for her on the other side of the ocean.
Somewhere Beyond the Mortal Realm
The candles in Morgana’s chamber flickered all at once. Not from wind. Not from movement. But from magic, old, forbidden, awakening magic.
Morgana’s eyes snapped open. For the first time in decades, the threads of the prophecy tugged against her wards, vibrating like a plucked string. A cold, sharp pulse rippled through the air, brushing against her skin like the whisper of a ghost. She rose from her throne of twisted roots and bone.
“No…” she breathed. “Not yet.”
Another pulse hit stronger this time, a surge of power that made the shadows on the walls recoil. The Five had touched the prophecy. The First had moved.
Morgana’s lips curled into a snarl. “So the little Wardens think they can rise.”
She lifted her hand, and the shadows around her thickened, swirling into a vortex of smoke and darkness—a shape formed within it, tall, lean, elegant, dangerous.
Kellan. He stepped out of the shadows with a mocking bow, his smile sharp and insincere.
“You called, my lady?”
Morgana’s eyes narrowed. “Do not play games with me, Kellan. You felt it.”
His smile faltered. Just a fraction. But enough. “That… ripple?” he said lightly. “Hard to miss.”
“The prophecy has stirred,” Morana hissed. “The First has taken her step.”
Kellan’s jaw tightened. “After all these years.”
Morgana circled him slowly, her presence cold enough to frost the air. “You will go to the mortal realm,” she said. “Find the one who awakened the wards. Watch her. Stop her. And if she threatens the curse—”
Kellan finished for her, voice low. “End her.”
Morgana’s shadows tightened around his throat, reminding him of the leash he could never break.
“Do not fail me,” she whispered.
Kellan’s eyes flashed resentment, defiance, something darker, but he bowed anyway. “As you command.”
He stepped backward into the shadows, letting them swallow him whole. Morgana turned toward her scrying mirror, the surface rippling like disturbed water.
“Let them rise,” she murmured. “Let them try.” Her smile was cold, cruel, and certain. “I will break them before they break me.”
- Writer
