Ayla's POV
Morgana Vale's house sat at the edge of town, hidden behind twisted iron gates and overgrown gardens that seemed to move in the windless night. The witch herself was nothing like I had imagined, mid-thirties, sharp cheekbones, kind eyes that assessed us carefully as we approached.
"You're late," she said, opening the door before we could knock. "The moon rises in fifteen minutes. We need to start now."
Inside, her living room had been transformed. Candles everywhere, their flames casting dancing shadows. A large circle drawn on the floor in what looked like salt mixed with silver dust. Symbols I didn't recognize covered every surface.
"Ayla and Damien, in the center," Morgana directed. "Everyone else, stay outside the circle. If you break it during the ritual, the magical ba
