Witches, Breadcrumbs, and the Family Tradition of Overkill
Colson POV I should have known better. The universe had been entirely too cooperative lately, and in my experience, that only happened right before it tried to eat you. The pull beneath my boots was unmistakable now—low and steady, like a heartbeat buried under layers of stone and time. Not loud. Not flashy. Just persistent. The kind of magic that didn’t beg for attention because it knew it would eventually get it anyway. “This is it,” I muttered, slowing my pace. “No interruptions. No surprises. No ancient evils popping out of—” The air shifted. Not dramatically. No thunder. No crack of power. Just a pressure change, subtle and invasive, like someone stepping into your personal space without asking. I stopped. Every instinct I had flared at once. Ah. There it was. That silk-wr
- Writer
