Today is the day—the day that has been haunting me with a mix of dread and anticipation: my twenty-first birthday. The day I should step into my birthright as part of the Faewood Coven—the witches my mother led before she died. Well, not my actual mother, but the woman I called "Mom." I want to resent her and hate the circumstances, but the truth is, she was all the family I knew, all the family I needed.
I had only recently learned that my biological mother sacrificed herself for me, and despite the pain, I couldn't find it in myself to be angry about it. After all, she was a woman I never got to meet.
For two long days, I have been living in the past. Dreams, or visions, as Aamon claims, have been revealing events in startling detail. They are the key to my past, a window into my mothe
