The fluorescent lights flickered above the long table as Melinda set down a bundle of herbs and chalk. Diana stood at the far end, arms crossed, her presence commanding even in silence. Zoe hovered closer to Melinda, watching every movement with suspicion, her lips pressed into a hard line.

The air was thick, not just with the smell of sage and myrrh, but with the weight of unspoken words. Every time Melinda reached across the table to sketch a sigil, Zoe noticed how Diana’s gaze ...