The Enchanted Five

Book 1 Chapter 8

Ari hadn’t expected the castle grounds to feel so… familiar. Sure, the scale was massive rolling fields, stone walls older than her country, forests that looked like they held secrets — but the work? The land? The smell of earth and hay?

That felt like home. Torin walked beside her, pointing out different areas. “We keep a few Highland cattle over that ridge. Bram insists they’re ‘character‑building.’ I think he likes pretending he’s not a lord.”

Ari laughed. “I grew up on a farm. Cows don’t scare me.”

Torin raised a brow. “A farm girl? That explains the boots.”

“And the calluses,” she said proudly. They walked the fields, Ari stopping to examine old stone markers, sketching symbols from her mother’s journal. The wind tugged at her hair, carrying the scent of pine and something older.

Something watching. Before she could place it, Torin’s phone buzzed. He grimaced. “I’m needed inside. Shouldn’t be long. You’ll be alright?” Ari nodded. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

Torin hesitated just a second too long, then jogged back toward the castle. Ari turned back to the fields, and silence settled, not peaceful or empty. Observed. She scanned the tree line. Nothing moved. No birds. No wind. No sound. Her skin prickled.

“Hello?” she called softly. No answer, but the feeling didn’t leave.

Bram froze mid‑stride in the corridor. A cold ripple slid down his spine, the same wrongness he’d felt the night Morgana breached the wards. His bear surged, claws scraping against his ribs.

Go.

Now.

She’s alone.

Bram didn’t question it. He was out the door and across the courtyard in seconds, boots pounding the earth. The wards trembled, reacting to something in the trees, something old, something hungry. He reached the fields and saw Ari standing alone, her back to the forest, her shoulders tight. And behind her, a flicker, shape of a woman’s silhouette, pale and wrong, half‑formed in the shadows.

Mograna or her ghost.

Bram’s heart slammed against his ribs. “Aribella!”

She spun, startled. “Bram? What...”

He reached her in three strides, placing himself between her and the treeline. The shadow dissolved the moment he looked at it, melting into the dark like smoke. Ari frowned. “Is everything okay?” Bram didn’t answer immediately. His bear was pacing, snarling, demanding he take her inside, away from the trees, away from whatever had been watching. He forced his voice steady. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

Ari blinked. “I wasn’t. Torin just...”

“I know,” Bram said, sharper than intended. “Come. The grounds can be… unpredictable.” Ari hesitated, confused but trusting. Bram didn’t look back at the treeline. He didn’t need to. He could still feel her. Morgana. And she was getting bolder.

Ari walked beside Bram in uneasy silence, her bag slung over her shoulder, boots brushing through the tall grass. She kept glancing at him, trying to read his expression, but his face was carved from stone.

“Did… something happen?” she finally asked.

“No,” Bram said too quickly. “Just a precaution.”

Ari frowned but didn’t push. He looked tense, coiled, like he was listening to something she couldn’t hear. The castle loomed ahead, warm and solid against the cold wind. Ari felt safer the closer they got, though she couldn’t explain why.

Torin jogged toward them from the courtyard, breath visible in the crisp air. The moment he saw Bram’s posture rigid, alert, his expression shifted.

“What happened?” he asked through the mindlink.

Something in the trees, Bram answered silently. Morgana. Or what’s left of her.

Torin’s jaw tightened. Out loud, he said lightly, “Sorry, I got pulled away. Everything alright?”

Ari nodded. “Yeah. Just… weird vibes out there.” Torin shot Bram a sharp look. Bram ignored it.

As they reached the steps, Ari hesitated. “Um… is there a library? Or somewhere I can set up my research? I don’t want to be in the way.” Bram opened his mouth, but Moira appeared in the doorway like she’d been waiting.

“There is, dear,” she said warmly. “A perfect spot for you. Come with me.”

Ari smiled gratefully. “Thank you.” She followed Moira inside, disappearing down the corridor.

The moment she was out of earshot, Bram exhaled a long, controlled breath he’d been holding since the fields.

Torin folded his arms. “Tell me.”

Bram stared at the treeline, voice low. “I saw her.”

Torin’s expression darkened. “Morgana?”

“Or her vision,” Bram said. “A flicker. A shadow. But it was her.”

Torin swore under his breath. “The wards should’ve stopped her.”

“They didn’t,” Bram said. “And she was watching Ari.”

Torin’s eyes widened. “Why her?”

Bram didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. They both knew the truth was tied to Sorcha. To the prophecy. To the girl who had just walked into their lives with Eilidh’s eyes. Torin rubbed the back of his neck. “We need to tell the elders.”

“We will,” Bram said. “But not yet. Not until I know exactly what Morana wants.”

Torin nodded slowly. “And Ari?”

Bram looked toward the corridor where she’d vanished. “She stays close,” he said. “And she stays protected.”

His bear rumbled in agreement.

In the treeline, Morgana gathered herself from shadow and cold, her form flickering like smoke fighting to stay whole. The girl, Sorcha’s bloodline had awakened the wards. The first spark. The beginning of the Five.

Morgana’s lips curled. She could not allow the circle to form. Not again. Not in Blackwater Cove. The Five were her end. She needed leverage. She needed someone loyal. Someone she could twist. Her voice slipped through the ether, sharp and poisonous.

Kellan. Come to me.

The air trembled.

Find the others. Stop the Five before they rise.

This time, she would end the prophecy before it began.