Forced Awakening
849 Words
The house had not settled since the disturbance in the garden.
Though no one spoke of it openly, the air within the Blackwood estate felt tighter, as though the walls themselves were holding their breath. Quinn sat once more in the small library, embroidery resting uselessly in her lap. The thread had knotted three times beneath her distracted fingers. She had not even noticed.
Her thoughts replayed Dev’s words. “It’s here.”
She had seen the way his shoulders had stiffened. The way her father had shifted his stance. The wind had not been natural. She had felt that much. And then there was something else. A pull. Low in her chest.
Quinn pressed a hand against her sternum. It was happening again. A warmth flickered beneath her skin but faint at first. Like embers buried under ash. She inhaled sharply. The candle on the desk beside her trembled and had Quinn frozen.
The flame stretched unnaturally tall before sputtering violently, and her heart began to pound.
“Stop,” she whispered, though she was unsure whether she spoke to herself or to whatever stirred within her. The flame flared brighter. Heat rolled off it in sudden waves.
The embroidery hoop slipped from her lap and struck the floor. The candle shattered, sending glass scattered across the desk.
A sharp crack split the air as the windowpanes rattled in their frames.
Down in the gardens, Dev felt it instantly.
His head snapped toward the house. Towards the window that he knew led straight into the library.
“Quinn,” he breathed.
He did not wait for permission. Dev sprinted through the French doors, magic rising instinctively in his veins. Lochlan followed only a pace behind.
Inside the library, Quinn stood rigid. The surrounding air shimmered faintly, and her red hair lifted slightly as though stirred by a wind no one else could feel.
“Quinn,” Dev said gently as he entered. Her eyes met his. They were brighter. Not unnatural. But alive in a way he had never seen.
“I don’t know how to stop it,” she admitted, voice trembling. The warmth in her chest surged again. This time, the books along the shelf nearest her slid outward as if pushed by unseen hands.
Lochlan stepped forward slowly, calm but alert. “Do not fight it,” he instructed. “You will only make it worse.”
Quinn swallowed. “I am not doing anything.”
“Exactly,” Lochlan replied.
Dev moved closer but carefully. “Look at me,” he said softly. She did. “Breathe with me.”
Inhale.
Exhale.
The air pulsed once more, but weaker this time. “Your magic is responding to something,” Lochlan said quietly. “It was slowly awakening. Now it stirs faster.”
“Because of the witches?” Quinn asked.
No one answered immediately.
Dev felt it too now, the faint thread of foreign magic that had brushed the estate earlier.
“It may be a coincidence,” Lochlan said carefully. But Dev knew better. Magic did not flare without cause. Especially not on the same day witch power brushed their land.
Quinn gasped as another pulse radiated from her but this time it did not lash outward wildly. Instead, it moved toward Dev. His own magic answered instinctively. For a brief, suspended moment, their powers touched. The air between them crackled softly.
Not violent. Not destructive. But aware. Lochlan’s eyes sharpened. “Interesting,” he murmured. The warmth in Quinn’s chest eased. Her hair fell back against her shoulders and the room stilled.
Silence returned, real this time just as Quinn swayed. Dev caught her before she could fall. “I’ve got you,” he said quietly.
Her fingers curled into the front of his coat. “I was frightened,” she admitted.
“I know.”
Lochlan moved toward the shattered candle and knelt, inspecting the blackened wick. “This was not random,” he said at last.
Dev looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”
Lochlan rose slowly. “If the witches are testing the boundaries of their reach, they may be attempting to identify other sources of power.”
Quinn’s eyes widened. “Identify?”
“Yes,” Lochlan said gravely. “Awakenings can act like beacons.”
Dev’s jaw tightened. “They felt her.”
“Possibly,” Lochlan said. Quinn straightened in Dev’s arms.
“Then I will not hide,” she said, though her voice still shook slightly. “If they are coming, I would rather be prepared.” Dev looked down at her.
This was not the timid girl worrying over her first ball. This was something else. Something rising. Lochlan studied his daughter carefully. “Your training begins tomorrow,” he said.
Dev’s heart shifted. He had wanted her safe and untouched by this. But safety was no longer guaranteed, it seemed.
And waiting for a letter from India suddenly felt far less certain. Because if the witches had felt Quinn— Then they were no longer watching from afar. They were searching.
- Writer
