9
GRAYSON
Magic and shadows overtake one section of the Hearth room. The smell of freshly cut wood fills the air. A new heartbeat sounds in the darkness.
“Someone’s hiding in the corner,” I say.
“It’s Jocasta,” declares Dex. “Can you see her?”
“No, the shadows are too dark.”
“Ah,” says the witch. “Grayson.”
The way Jocasta speaks my name, it’s how I might talk about my new pup students. With reverence. For some reason, I have the urge to rush toward the witch and embrace her.
Is this a love spell? It’s possible. That said, I’ve spent the last decade or more floating around solo. Now, I’m suddenly drowning in interactions with new people. It’s only logical that my desire for hugs could go haywire.
Dex rises. I move to stand beside him.
“Accept my quest,” states Jocasta. “Then, you
