I bolt upright, sweat beading on my forehead. My heart pounds as I take several deep breaths to steady myself. Moonlight filters through my window, illuminating my desk in the corner, casting shadows across my hanging plants and the small herb garden I tend for my morning tea. The nightmare again—the same one that's haunted me since childhood, but different this time. I was racing down a tunnel toward a beautiful woman who kept drifting further away the faster I ran. Then came that voice, soft yet clear: "Remember." I sit still for several minutes, puzzling over the voice that felt strangely soothing, almost familiar. Shaking it off, I focus on the day ahead. Priestess Raven and I have prepared a secluded cottage where I can safely bond with my wolf when it finally emerges.

Stepping out of the shower, I towel off quickly and pull on my battle uniform—worn cargo pants and a faded t-shirt that's survived a hundred training sessions. I work my brush through my tangled strands, weaving them into a tight braid that won't get in my way. My gaze drifts across the bedroom walls, ten years of memories pressed into this small space. The window seat catches the morning light, my sanctuary where I've devoured countless books while watching the lake shimmer below. I look at my watch seeing the time I better go meet Christa and get some breakfast before she comes looking for me.

Christa's already in the dining area when I arrive, her hand shooting up to wave me over. Just the sight of her brightens my mood. Her blonde hair falls in damp ringlets around her shoulders—she must have rushed here straight from the shower. Normally she'd never leave her room without straightening those curls she complains about constantly. If only she knew how many spells I've tried hoping to wake up with waves like hers instead of my boring straight hair.

I fill my plate and head toward her, but my foot catches on something—a deliberately extended leg—sending me sprawling across the floor. My breakfast scatters in every direction, oatmeal splattering like tiny meteors. Looking up through my tangled hair, I see Cindy and her two shadows standing over me, their laughter as sharp knives. Cindy's lips curl into a mock pout. "Oh dear," she coos, voice dripping with false concern. "Didn't see you there." Her boot comes down deliberately on my fingers, and I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, refusing to give her the satisfaction of my pain.

I won’t miss them They have made my life miserable since the moment that we got here. They have teased me, reminded me that I look different than all of them and reminded me of how ugly I am, they would push me around even hit me with objects that they find laying around. I even tried a spell to change my hair color to black so I could look more like them, that was a nightmare I was as orange as a carrot. They messed with me all the time, when I went to class, in class, even walking to my locker. Nowhere I went to was safe from the trio. I would go home injured and would have to lie about what happened.

If I didn’t lie about what happened, I would be faced with a lot worse than what they already do. I do not understand why she treats me this way. Christa thinks it’s because she is jealous. I do not know why she would be jealous of me I can’t cast spells as good as her. She is so beautiful everyone watches her when she walks by wishing that they could be her or even date her. On the other hand, I see people walk the other way when I walk into a room. I hear how others whisper when I am around and then point at me as they walk away.

I remember when I was brought to the coven, I was so happy that i had a place that could become my home. On my third day I was excited to start training with the other girls and to make friends. That day was the first of many bad days, which was when Cindy and her friends started to bully me.

That day brought me Christa—the one good thing among the cruelty. I still remember Cindy's sneer as she circled me, her voice cutting through the training yard: "Look at this freak. Green cat eyes and that hideous red hair. Real witches have dark hair, colorful eyes. You don't belong here." Her boot connected with my ribs, the crack echoing in my ears as I curled into myself, tears burning hot trails down my cheeks. Then suddenly, a shadow fell between us. "BACK OFF!" Christa's voice rang out, fierce and unafraid. She extended her hand to me, helping me up while glaring at my tormentors. From that moment, we became inseparable.

I shake my head and push myself up from the floor as Christa hurries over, helping me scoop globs of oatmeal into a napkin. We settle at our usual table, and she fixes me with that look—half concern, half exasperation. "For someone who can take down three opponents in combat training, you sure let Cindy Walk all over you," she whispers, leaning forward. I shrug, poking at what remains of my breakfast. "Combats different. She'd just hex me into next week—you know I can barely light a candle with my spell work." Christa's eyes soften. "The Guardians didn't invite you to join because of your stunning personality," she teases. "Youngest recruit in years, no evaluation needed." I stared at my plate, uncomfortable with her praise. I stared at my hands, tracing the red mark where Cindy boot had pressed. "What's the point? Last time I tried to defend myself, she hexed my cauldron to overflow in Potions. I spent three weekends scrubbing the dungeon floors while she watched and laughed." I sigh, pushing my plate away. "Besides, she's like a bloodhound—I swear she can smell my fear. There's no hiding." My shoulders relax slightly as I remember: "At least we'll be free soon. Four weeks away from this place, just you and me." The corners of my mouth lifted into a genuine smile for the first time today. "Karma will catch up to her eventually." Christa reaches across the table, squeezing my hand. "I still can't believe Raven said yes," she whispers, eyes bright with excitement.

Raven understands it's time for us to explore the world on our own now that we've both turned eighteen. She's drilled that teleportation spell into me until I could recite it half-dead—our emergency escape plan if things go sideways. Our trip is planned down to the last detail, with designated check-in points where we can contact her to confirm we're safe. After finishing our meal and conversation, Christa and I head to our separate rooms for the night.

I push open my door, kick off my boots, and plan for a quick shower before reading myself to sleep. To my surprise, Raven—who's raised me since my mother died—sits perched in the bay window, her silhouette outlined against the night sky. I crossed the room, a smile warming my face. "What brings you here tonight?" She reaches out, her cool fingers settling on my shoulder. "Just passing by. Realized we haven't really talked lately." laughing softly. "Mom, we literally saw each other at breakfast." Our shared laughter fills the room for only a moment before being sliced through by the shrill wail of the coven's alarm system.

Raven's eyes lock with mine, and without a word, we bolt for the door. The corridor erupts with panicked voices screaming "Under attack!" "Breach in the east wing!"—words that shouldn't be possible. Our shields have stood unbroken for generations. I sprint toward the commotion, skidding to a halt at the sight of our guardians locked in combat with pale figures moving too fast to track—vampires. Through the chaos, I spot a child frozen in terror as a ball of crimson flame arcs through the air toward her. My body moves before my mind can catch up. I slam into her, both of us tumbling across the stone floor as heat sears the air above us. When I look up, I see her—a woman with hands outstretched, lips forming words that are swallowed by the din of battle.

I yanked the child to her feet, her small fingers clutching mine as we sprinted through the chaos. After depositing her with the other evacuees, I darted back toward the fighting. Raven's face was taut with tension when I reached her.

"What are we facing?" I asked, breathless.

"A coordinated attack," she said, deflecting a spell with a flick of her wrist. "Dark witches, vampires, werewolves—all working together. Get the children and elders to the safe room immediately. Don't forget the barrier and shield."

I nodded and took off running. The safe room door came into view, just twenty feet ahead, then something slammed into my side with brutal force, sending me flying across the courtyard.

My lungs burned as I lay sprawled on the stone courtyard, mind reeling. Through blurred vision, I caught sight of a massive wolf charging toward me, jaws open and eyes wild. I rolled sideways, scrambling to my feet with my hands already weaving the shield spell. Before I could complete the incantation, strong arms locked around me from behind, pinning my elbows to my sides. Hot breath tickled my neck as a deep voice whispered, "Finally found you, we’ve been searching for so long."

Then I see them fall to the ground, I spin around to see Steve, one of our guardians, sprinting past. He flashes a quick wave without breaking stride. "Thanks!" I call after him, already turning toward the safe room where the children and elders wait. My responsibility weighs on me—their protection falls to me now. As I approach, frightened voices echo down the corridor.

Inside, small faces brighten at my arrival. "Jadon! Are you staying?" several children call out at once. I force a reassuring smile despite the chaos outside.

"Everyone's safe here," I tell them, my voice is steadier than I feel. "That's what this chamber was designed for." I raise my hands and fingers tracing the intricate pattern of our coven's protection spell. The shield shimmers into places now only our own can pass through. With one last glance at the huddled figures, I slip back out to join the battle.

Outside, chaos reigns. A guardian lies crumpled on the stone floor, his arm bent at an impossible angle. I rush toward him, then halt mid-stride as time seems to fold in on itself—I've witnessed this exact scene before, in dreams or visions. The moment passes. I drop to my knees beside him, fingers weaving a protective shield around us both. Blood seeps through his torn sleeve, forming a widening crimson pool. With quick movements, I tear a strip from his shirt and cinch it above the wound. A scream pierces the air—Julie, one of Cindy's followers, sprawled twenty feet away. When I reach her, my stomach lurches at the sight of ragged teeth marks tearing across her side, flesh torn open like wet parchment.

I drag Julie toward the guardian with the broken arm, my hands slick with her blood. With a trembling breath, I cast another shield around us—a shimmering dome that buys us precious seconds. Julie's face has gone ashen. I tear her shirt into makeshift bandages, wrapping them tight around the ragged wound on her waist. The fabric immediately blooms crimson. Where are the healers I start yelling when Christa comes over to help when a wolf comes running over and we start to fight back-to-back, our spells flying in perfect rhythm. For every attacker we down, two more materialize from the shadows. A firm hand grips my forearm—my mother, her face streaked with ash and blood.

"To the safe house. Now," she orders, her voice cracking as she pulls us away from the battle. When I protest, her eyes meet mine, wide with an emotion I've never seen there before: raw fear. Her fingers dig into our wrists. "For once in your life, Jadon, don't argue with me, there looking for you girls, I'll find you when it's safe." Before I can respond, she shoves us toward the exit and turns back to the fight, her silhouette disappearing into the chaos.

I seize Christa's hand, and we bolt toward the exit—the one leading to the wooden walkway that stretches beyond our coven's boundaries across the river. Glancing back, I scan for pursuers while my foot crunches over fragments of stained glass scattered beneath the shattered window above the door. That must be their entry point. With a final shared look, we burst through the doorway into the night.

Our frantic pace finally slows to a cautious walk. I scan our surroundings, ears straining for any sound of pursuit. The moonlight catches on water through the trees—a lake. Without a word, Christa and I make our way to an ancient oak at the water's edge, collapsing onto a fallen log beneath its branches. My lungs burn as I draw in ragged breaths. The question claws at my mind: why run when every instinct screams to stay and fight?

Night presses in around us. We need walls, wards, safety before darkness fully claims the forest. I meet Christa's exhausted gaze, her face ghostly in the dim light.

"We should find shelter," I whisper, already rising. "Somewhere I can cast shields. Then we need to contact home."

The forest closes around us as we search for shelter, our footsteps muffled by pine needles and fallen leaves. When the abandoned shack appears between the trees—its weathered boards silvered by time—I feel the first flutter of relief since our escape. While Christa weaves protection spells around the perimeter, I gather smooth stones from the nearby stream, arranging them in a perfect circle for the sending ritual. My fingers trace the message in the dirt, each word a prayer for guidance. I place a raven's feather over the script and whisper, "Flégo." Blue flames lick upward, consuming the feather in an instant before vanishing—message sent.

We forage like we were taught—identifying blackberries clustered on thorny vines, constructing a wicker trap for the silver-scaled fish that dart beneath the lake's surface. As our campfire pushes back the darkness, we sit in silence, the day's horrors replaying behind our eyes. Just hours ago, we'd been safe within our coven walls.

"How long before your mother responds?" Christa asks, her voice small against the night sounds.

The fire suddenly hisses and pops, flames parting as a scroll materializes in their midst. I snatch it before it can burn and read it aloud: "The attack was orchestrated by Dina, who was banished for practicing dark magic. She's allied herself with wolves and vampires. I will find you before your supplies run low. Stay within the safe house boundaries. If you must venture out, remain close—danger could arrive at any moment. I love you both. Until we meet again." I fold the scroll with a sigh. Mother's message reveals nothing about what they've discovered. I catch Christa's eye and can't help but laugh. "Some girls' trip, huh? Starting earlier than planned."

Our laughter breaks the tension as we check our trap in the lake. Christa pulls it up, revealing a single fat fish thrashing against the wicker. We gather blackberries on our return path to the shack. After our meager feast, we feed the hungry flames with fresh wood and settle onto the hard floor, chasing sleep despite the day's horrors.

Christa clears her throat in the darkness. "I'm terrified," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "Being out here, exposed like this..." She doesn't finish the thought. I find her hand in the shadows between us and squeeze it.

"Me too," I admit. "But we have each other. That's something." The firelight catches the slight curve of her smile. Minutes later, her breathing deepens and her fingers go slack in mine. I ease my hand away, add another log to the dying flames, and curl onto my side, willing sleep to come despite the forest's watchful silence. We've survived worse, I want to say, but the lie sticks in my throat. Instead, I squeeze her hand once more and listen as her breathing slows. When her fingers go slack in mine, I ease my hand away and feed another log to the hungry flames. The fire pops and hisses as I curl onto my side, willing sleep to come despite the forest's watchful silence.