AISLYNThe tap lingers in the air long after it sounds, light as a knuckle against bone, yet loud enough to seize my breath. My pulse skids. For a heartbeat, I don’t move at all. I stand there, caught between the door and the witch, between what is known and what could unravel everything if mishandled.

Don’t panic, I tell myself.

My hand lifts anyway, fingers trembling slightly before I curl them into a fist and force them still. I draw in a careful breath, straighten my shoulders, and walk ...