Rowan felt the swamp’s hush hours before the knock. It pressed against the back of her teeth, a cold taste that never quite left her tongue. She stood barefoot on the porch again — the same old boards, salt lines reforged by her own hand, roots humming just beneath the soft rot. The Circle gathered behind her in tight knots, half shadow, half flame — witches old and new, fear and fire braided together because there was no other choice anymore.
Maisie sat cross-legged at Rowan’s feet, fingers buried in the tangled fringe of Rowan’s skirt. Her lashes fluttered against her pale cheeks — Sight flickering under thin skin like distant lightning. Lucien hovered near the warped doorframe, one shoulder braced against it, arms folded tight across his chest. His eyes were wrong tonight — brighter th
