ZURI

The smell of sage clung to the air. The witches’ hall was heavy with incense smoke and quiet tension. I sat at the long table, tapping my fingers impatiently on the wood while the eldest witch wrung her hands.

“My queen,” she began softly, “we’ve mapped the northern and eastern borders, but tracing every trace of dark magic across the lands will take months. Years, even. We cannot rush it.”

I felt my chest tighten. “Months?” My voice echoed through the chamber. “The ...