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The dark embers that flew away from the flames of the stake marked another day for Northfield.Lady Furwood was a witch. Or so they said. The local blacksmith claimed she cursed his wife and caused the death of his two children. Whispers of her sorcery had been circulating for months, but it wasn't until the blacksmith’s tragic loss that the town finally took action.I saw them drag her from her home at the edge of town, spitting curses and foulness that Mother told me was unlike a proper lady.Lady Furwood was always nice to me, so I saw little reason to believe she could be a witch.How could she?She helped me pick flowers from the meadow she tended and would always say, “The best petals bloom from the brightest souls.”But now, as I stood in the crowd, my heart pounded against my ribs. The flames climbed higher around Lady Furwood. Her screams were horrid, petrifying the once-quiet air. A sickness twisted deep in my stomach. The smell was awful.My mother, Lisa, clutched my hand tightly, her knuckles white. "Remember this, Ginevra," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Magic is a curse. It brings nothing but pain and death."I nodded, unable to tear my eyes away. But deep down, I felt something else—something that frightened me more than the rising flames.It was the knowledge that I, too, possessed a forbidden power.The first time it happened, I was alone in the fields. A simple tug at an invisible thread and the scarecrow in the distance moved its arm. I gasped, dropping the handful of wheat I had just gathered. Was it real? Had I done that? Curiosity got the better of me, and I tried again, this time willing the scarecrow to turn its head.It did.When I told my mother, she reacted with horror."You must never do that again," she had said. "If anyone finds out, they will kill you. Promise me, Ginevra.""I promise," I had whispered. But the power felt like a living thing inside me, eager to be used.Now, as I watched Lady Furwood burn, I understood the earnestness of my mother’s warning. The townspeople’s faces were twisted with hatred and fear. They didn’t see Lady Furwood as a person anymore—she was a monster, something to be destroyed.The flames finally died down, leaving only a charred, smoking skeleton tied to the stake. The crowd began to disperse, murmuring among themselves. My mother held my hand in a vice-like grip."Let’s go home," she said.But I couldn’t shake the image of Lady Furwood from my mind. Her fate was a reminder of the danger I was in.That night, I sat at my grandmother’s side, unable to sleep.
"Ginevra… Do you feel it? The spark?"
"Grandmother, please—" I peeked around the room, my voice barely above a whisper. "You know talk of such things is forbidden."The old woman smiled as if we were discussing the weather. “It’s a sensation every being who carries the Embrace feels.”
"I don’t have it."
Her knowing smile didn’t waver. “And yet, I’ve seen you use it, my dear… just a few nights ago.”I stiffened, a flush rising to my cheeks. “No, Grandmother, I… I would never—”"Deny it all you like," she said, "but if the breeze has seen it, word may reach the township… and the King’s Inquisitors will be called to this town to hunt."My breath hitched. The Inquisitors. They were coming soon—for Lady Furwood, for any other suspected witches. I’d heard the stories. They didn’t just burn witches. They hunted them down like animals, extracting confessions through means no one dared speak of."I’ve heard rumors," I murmured. "Strange things happening in town… children going missing, the Fairwn’s crops turned purple, but it wasn’t me."My grandmother rose from her chair, something I hadn’t seen her do in years.
"Grandmother?"
She ignored me, staring into the crackling fire. “They call it destruction, but I see it as something else. The key to our coven’s freedom.”"A coven?" My throat tightened. I had heard the whispers. "I don’t understand."Her eyes closed, and she let out a quiet sigh. "Your mother and father were meant to teach you… to help you understand the gift of the Embrace you’ve been blessed with."Footsteps in the hall made me freeze.My mother stepped into the room, her eyes narrowing. “What are you two whispering about?”My grandmother straightened, her smile shifting to one of easy innocence."Oh, we were just reminiscing about the old days," she said. "I was telling Ginevra about the herb gardens I used to tend when I was her age."I quickly nodded. "Yes, Grandmother was just saying how different the herbs used to be… before the township cut down the old groves."My mother’s gaze lingered on us both, suspicion flickering in her eyes. "I hope you’re not filling her head with tales of nonsense. You should be focusing on your duties, Ginevra. Too many strange things are happening in this town as it is.""Yes, Mother," I murmured, looking away.Her eyes flicked to my grandmother once more, a silent warning. Then she turned and disappeared down the hallway.When her footsteps faded, my grandmother leaned closer. “Remember, Ginevra… the spark will find you, whether they speak of it or not.”I nodded, my heart pounding.
“What had I done in the woods all those nights ago?”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The village market bustled with life, the chatter of merchants and the clink of coins filling the air. Stalls lined the cobblestone square, overflowing with fresh produce, bolts of fabric, and trinkets from distant lands. The rich scent of spiced cider and fresh bread wrapped around Ginerva as she wove through the throng, clutching her basket tightly.She barely had time to scan the crowd before a familiar voice rang out.“Ginerva!”Elizabeth waved from near the baker’s stall, her fiery red curls bouncing as she leaned over a tray of sweet rolls, chatting animatedly with Lisa.Lisa spotted Ginerva and grinned, brushing her dark hair behind her ear. “Over here! We were just about to grab some honeycakes before they sold out.”Ginerva exhaled, some of the morning’s tension loosening at the sight of them. For a moment, her grandmother’s warning and the weight of unspoken fears faded.“Good timing,” Elizabeth said, pressing a small honeycake into Ginerva’s hands. “My treat. You’ve been looking so serious lately—I figured you could use something sweet.”Ginerva managed a smile. “Thank you.”Lisa’s sharp gaze flicked over her. “You’ve been distracted for days. Is it your mother again?”The question made Ginerva hesitate, the weight of the morning’s conversation threatening to resurface. But before she could answer, Elizabeth leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.“Forget that for a moment—did you hear about Lady Furwood?”Ginerva stiffened. “What about her?”Lisa snorted, crossing her arms. “She’s in the stocks again. They say she cursed Mr. Iron’s wife—people think she’s the reason two of his sons died.”A chill settled in Ginerva’s chest.“That’s awful,” she murmured.“Awful?” Elizabeth’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Or true? You’ve seen her house—it’s practically falling apart, and she never comes to church. If she isn’t a witch, I’ll eat my bonnet.”Lisa frowned. “You shouldn’t joke about that. If they’re serious, they’ll burn her. Just like Lady Goodman.”“She deserves it,” Elizabeth whispered. “It’s not just Mr. Iron’s family. Mary at the inn swears Lady Furwood cursed her cow—it hasn’t given milk in weeks. And those strange symbols people found on her fence?”Ginerva gripped the honeycake, her appetite vanishing. “Maybe they’re just rumors.”Elizabeth scoffed. “Rumors? Gin, you’re too kind for your own good. The King’s Inquisitors are coming to investigate our town I heard. If she’s guilty, they’ll handle her and any other evil.”Ginerva’s stomach twisted. The mention of the Inquisitors sent a ripple of unease through her, the world around her suddenly feeling smaller, more suffocating. She scanned the market, half-expecting to see dark-cloaked figures weaving through the crowd.Lisa shivered. “Still, two boys dying that close together? It doesn’t feel… natural.”Ginerva lowered her voice. “But what if it isn’t Lady Furwood? What if it’s something else?”Elizabeth tilted her head. “Something else? Like what?”Ginerva hesitated, unsure how to explain the gnawing unease that had settled deep in her bones. “I don’t know. But things in the village feel… wrong lately. The missing children, the accidents…”Lisa wrapped her arms around herself. “You’re right. It’s as if the whole village is cursed.”Elizabeth let out a laugh. “Well, if it is, I’m blaming Lady Furwood. Or maybe old Mr. Carter. Have you seen his beard? He looks like a sorcerer.”Ginerva’s pulse jumped. “You know we can’t speak of that,” she hissed.Elizabeth blinked, her laughter fading into a sheepish grin. “Oh, come on, Gin. It’s just a joke.”Ginerva’s grip tightened on her basket. “You shouldn’t even joke about it. You know how quickly words spread, especially here.”Lisa nodded, her voice grave. “She’s right. My uncle once said something harmless about a bad harvest being cursed, and the church still questioned him for hours. It’s not worth the risk.”Elizabeth sighed, brushing a strand of red hair from her face. “Fine, fine. No more talk of sorcerers.” Then she hesitated, lowering her voice. “But… you have to admit, things do feel strange. My little brother swears he saw lights in the forest last week. Bright, green lights.”Ginerva’s breath caught. A pulse of something danced at the edge of her mind, something she couldn’t name. Her fingers tingled against the handle of her basket.“Maybe he imagined it,” she said quickly.“Or maybe he didn’t. My father always said the woods aren’t safe after dark. The kind of things that live there…” Lisa said. A gust of wind curled through the market, lifting the edges of their cloaks. Ginerva felt it settle around her, the weight of something unseen pressing against her skin.“Enough,” she said. “The more we talk about it, the more likely someone will overhear and twist it into something worse.”Elizabeth gave her an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Gin.”Ginerva forced a smile, though her thoughts churned. The green lights. The talk of curses. The spark will find you…Lisa nudged her. “Come on, let’s finish our errands. I still need to get onions before my mother starts yelling.”Elizabeth chuckled. “And I need to see if Mrs. Porter has any ribbons left. I refuse to wear that dull gray one another day.”The three girls moved through the bustling market, their conversation drifting into lighter topics as they shopped. Lisa haggled with a vegetable seller over the price of onions, while Elizabeth fawned over a display of silk ribbons, holding up a deep blue one against her curls.Ginerva trailed behind them, her mind still tangled in the uneasy undercurrents of their conversation. The green lights. The missing children. The creeping sense that something unseen coiled around their village, watching, waiting.She barely registered Lisa’s triumphant grin as she secured her onions for a few coins less, nor Elizabeth’s debate over whether she should splurge on the matching silver hairpins. It wasn’t until Elizabeth nudged her that she snapped back to the present.“Gin, honestly, are you even listening?” Elizabeth pouted, waving the blue ribbon in her face.Ginerva blinked. “What?”Lisa smirked, tucking her bundle of onions into her basket. “She’s been like this all morning.”Elizabeth sighed dramatically, tossing the ribbon over her arm. “I asked if I should get this one, or the red.”Ginerva’s lips twitched. “The blue.”Elizabeth beamed. “See? That’s what I thought!”Lisa rolled her eyes. “Let’s hurry before we run into Sister Miriam. I still haven’t been to confession for missing last week’s sermon.”As they wound through the market, passing stalls stacked with sweet-smelling herbs and bolts of dyed cloth, Elizabeth suddenly halted, grabbing Ginerva’s sleeve.“Look.”Lisa followed her gaze. Across the square, two older boys stood by a rickety wooden stall stacked with thick wax candles.Taran and Evren.Ginerva knew them as two of the most handsome boys in town. Taran, the taller of the two, was all lean muscle and sharp angles, his dark brown hair curling just past his ears. He spoke easily to Old Lady Isolde, who sat on a stool giving orders as he arranged her stock. Evren was shorter but broader in the shoulders and worked in silence, his sleeves rolled up as he lifted a heavy crate of wax molds. His golden hair caught the sunlight, making him look as if he had stepped out of a storybook.Elizabeth smirked. “They look so serious, don’t they?”Lisa giggled. “Evren always does. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile.”“Doesn’t matter,” Elizabeth whispered, eyes gleaming with mischief. “He’s handsome even when he scowls.”Ginerva frowned, “We shouldn’t be staring.”Elizabeth ignored her, “I heard Taran’s father is sending him to the city soon. Something about an apprenticeship with the magistrate.”Lisa gasped. “Really?”Ginerva glanced at Taran again. He did carry himself differently—more assured as if he already belonged somewhere greater than their little village.She turned her attention back to Evren instead. He was quieter, always had been. He barely spoke in church and rarely lingered in the square after completing his errands. There was something distant about him, as though his mind was always somewhere else.And then, as if sensing her stare, Evren looked up.Their eyes met.Ginerva sucked in her breath, but she couldn’t look away. His expression didn’t change—no surprise, no curiosity, just a stoic stare. Then, just as easily, he turned back to his work, lifting another crate onto the stall.Lisa nudged her. “You’re staring.”Ginerva tore her gaze away. “Let’s go.”Elizabeth sighed, disappointed. “But we were just getting to the good part.”Lisa chuckled. “You mean you were.”Still, they moved on, letting the candle stall fade behind them as they continued their shopping. But Ginerva couldn’t shake the feeling that Evren had seen something in her—something she hadn’t meant to reveal.“Do you girls want to visit our spot in the woods after I bring my Mother these onions?” Lisa said.
“Why not?” Elizabeth said. “I just need to take these ribbons home and I’ll be there.”
“Mhm. I—” Ginerva didn’t get to finish her statement, as Elizabeth grabbed her hand.
“I want you there, Ginerva,” Elizabeth said.
The faint hue of red burned Ginerva’s cheek, as she traced the softness of her friend’s hand.
“Okay. I don’t have anything, so I’ll just go with Lisa-”
“Nope. You and Elizabeth go together; I’ll have to make a story up for my Mother, about how we’re going to read some church literature before she lets me go. By that time, you two already be there waiting on me,” Lisa said.
Elizabeth grinned, oblivious—or perhaps not—as she gathered her things. “Come on, then. I’ll walk with you to my house, and then we’ll head straight to the woods.”Lisa smirked. “Don’t get lost on the way.”Elizabeth scoffed. “We’re not you, Lisa. We actually have a sense of direction.”Lisa stuck out her tongue before slipping into the crowd, her bundle of onions tucked under her arm.Ginerva adjusted her basket, falling into step beside Elizabeth. The market noise faded behind them as they weaved through the familiar winding paths toward the quieter end of the village.“You know, you have been acting strange lately,” Elizabeth said after a moment. Her voice was softer now, lacking its usual teasing edge.Ginerva exhaled slowly. “I know.”Elizabeth glanced at her. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”Ginerva considered it. There were too many things she couldn’t explain—her grandmother’s cryptic warning, the creeping unease that settled in her bones, the way Evren’s stare had lingered.Instead, she just said, “Thank you.”Elizabeth’s expression softened, and for once, she didn’t press further.The rest of the walk passed in comfortable silence.When they reached Elizabeth’s house, the redhead turned to her with a smirk. “Wait here. I’ll be quick.”Ginerva nodded, watching as Elizabeth disappeared inside. She shifted on her feet, glancing around the empty street. The village always felt different in these quiet moments—hushed, like it was holding its breath.A gust of wind rustled the trees, and for a fleeting second, she thought she saw movement in the distance, just beyond the bend in the road. A shadow that shouldn’t have been there.Ginerva’s heart clenched.And then Elizabeth reappeared, ribbons now neatly tucked away.“Alright,” she said cheerfully, slipping her arm through Ginerva’s. “Let’s go before Lisa beats us there.”Ginerva forced herself to shake off the unease. The woods would be a welcome change—quiet, secluded, safe. At least, she hoped so.The forest path stretched before them, dappled with golden light as the afternoon sun filtered through the branches. It was a familiar trail, one they had walked countless times before, yet today, it felt different. Maybe it was the lingering unease from the market, or maybe it was the way Elizabeth’s arm still brushed against Ginerva’s every so often, neither girl pulling away.The wind whispered through the leaves, carrying the scent of damp earth and wildflowers. Birds called to one another, their melodies threading through the silence between them.Ginerva glanced at Elizabeth from the corner of her eye. The redhead walked with easy confidence, her curls catching the sunlight like fire. But there was something else—something quieter beneath the surface.“You’re quiet,” Elizabeth said.Ginerva hesitated before answering. “Just thinking.”“Dangerous habit.”“You do it too.”Elizabeth gasped, “How dare you accuse me of such a thing.”Ginerva rolled her eyes, but Elizabeth only grinned.They walked a little longer in silence, the air between them growing heavier with unspoken thoughts.“Do you ever feel like… like you don’t quite fit?”“What do you mean?”Elizabeth’s pace slowed as she glanced up at the canopy as if searching for the right words. “Like you’re supposed to be something, but no matter what you do, you’re always a little off from what everyone expects.”Ginerva felt her stomach twist. She knew that feeling well—the weight of expectations pressing down, molding her into something she wasn’t sure she could be.“All the time,” she admitted.Elizabeth nodded as if she had expected that answer. “Lately, it’s like… I don’t know.” She gave a short, breathy laugh. “Maybe it’s stupid.”“It’s not,” Ginerva said.Elizabeth glanced at her and then, really looked at her. “Sometimes I feel like I’m—like I want something different. But I don’t even know what that means.”Ginerva’s breath caught.Because she understood.The way she felt when Elizabeth smiled at her, when she took her hand without thinking when she leaned too close and Ginerva didn’t move away—she didn’t have the words for it, but it felt different. It felt important. And that terrified her.Their town didn’t speak of things like this. Girls grew up, married boys, and had children. That was the way of things. Anything else was… unheard of.Ginerva swallowed. “I think… maybe I understand more than you think.”But before either of them could say anything more, the trees thinned, revealing their secret spot—the hollow oak.It was massive, its roots stretching out like the ribs of some ancient beast, its trunk wide and gnarled, the hollow large enough to fit ten people comfortably inside. Sunlight streamed into the clearing, dust motes swirling in the golden glow.Elizabeth exhaled, stepping forward and running her fingers along the bark. “It’s strange, isn’t it?”“What is?”“How this place feels outside of everything else. Like the village doesn’t exist when we’re here.”Ginerva nodded. It did feel separate. Safe.Elizabeth turned, leaning against the trunk. “Alright, your turn. What’s been weighing on you?”Ginerva hesitated, then sighed, stepping into the hollow with her. “My grandmother. She’s been… saying things. Warning me.”“About what?”“I don’t know exactly. But she thinks something bad is coming.”“Do you believe her?”“I don’t want to, but… I feel it too. The strange things happening in the village. The missing children. The way people are watching each other more.”Elizabeth was quiet for a moment before she said, “You know I’m with you, right? No matter what happens.”Ginerva looked at her, and something tightened in her chest.“I know,” she said.Elizabeth smiled, and for a moment, Ginerva forgot about the village, about curses and whispers and things she didn’t understand.And then—“I AM A CHANGED WOMAN!” Lisa’s voice rang through the clearing.Both girls were startled, turning as Lisa emerged from the trees, dramatically clutching her chest.“I have just undergone the most grievous test of my life,” she announced, staggering toward them as if wounded.Elizabeth crossed her arms. “Did your mother catch you lying?”Lisa huffed. “Worse.” She dropped onto a root, fanning herself. “I almost had to actually read church literature.”Elizabeth snorted.Ginerva sighed, shaking her head with a small, relieved smile.Lisa grinned, waggling her eyebrows. “So, what’d I miss? Any scandalous secrets revealed while I was fighting for my life?”Ginerva and Elizabeth exchanged a look, something unspoken passing between them.“No,” Ginerva said.Lisa groaned. “Ugh, you two are no fun.”Elizabeth smirked. “Maybe you should have come with us instead of battling the righteous fury of your mother.”Lisa flopped dramatically onto the ground. “Next time, I swear, I’ll fake a sudden illness. You two would have wept for my absence.”Elizabeth snickered. Ginerva just shook her head.Lisa sat up, brushing leaves from her skirt, her earlier dramatics giving way to something more thoughtful.“So,” she said, stretching out her legs, “how long do you think it’ll be before they get here?”Neither Elizabeth nor Ginerva had to ask who she meant.The Inquisition.No one their age had ever seen them before. They were the whispered warnings of elders, the threats of strict parents, and the dark-cloaked figures that haunted cautionary tales. But now, with rumors swirling and fear thick in the village air, it was no longer a distant threat.Ginerva swallowed. “I don’t know. Soon, probably.”Lisa frowned, plucking at a blade of grass. “And what do they even do? I mean, we all know, but… what’s it really like?”Elizabeth shifted against the hollow oak’s bark, a shadow crossing her face. “I heard my father talking about them once, years ago. He was drunk, and my mother hushed him, but he said they don’t just look for witches. They watch everyone. They listen.” She shivered. “He said sometimes, they don’t even need proof. Just suspicion.”Lisa grimaced. “That’s comforting.”Ginerva’s stomach twisted. She thought of Lady Furwood. Of the way, people were already speaking about her guilt as if it were fact.Elizabeth sighed, rubbing her temples. “Do they search houses? Drag people away in the night?”“No one ever talks about how they do it,” Lisa said, biting her lip. “Just that when they come, someone always disappears.”“How do we know when it’s over?” Elizabeth asked softly.Lisa forced a dry laugh. “I suppose when people stop vanishing.”Ginerva clenched her hands. “Or when we stop looking over our shoulders.”Elizabeth exhaled, tilting her head back against the oak, eyes slipping shut. “It’s strange, isn’t it? We were just at the market this morning, buying honeycakes, talking about ribbons… and now we’re here, wondering how long it’ll take before someone else is thrown in the stocks.”Lisa huffed. “I liked the honeycake conversation better.”Ginerva offered a weak smile. “Me too.”Then Lisa straightened, clapping her hands together. “Alright, enough of that. If I’m going to be terrified, I’d at least like to be terrified after I finish the apple I smuggled out of my house.”Elizabeth snorted. “A true thief.”Lisa winked. “A hungry thief.”Ginevra plucked a leaf from Lisa’s head, “Who are you taking to the Harvest Festival, Lisa?”
Lisa smirked, biting into her stolen apple with a loud crunch. “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?”Elizabeth scoffed, crossing her arms. “Oh, please, don’t act like you’ve got some secret suitor hiding in the shadows.”Lisa wiggled her eyebrows. “Maybe I do.”Ginerva plucked another leaf from Lisa’s tangled hair, raising a skeptical brow. “And who, exactly, is this mysterious admirer? The baker’s son? That boy who always trips over his own feet near the well?”Lisa huffed, tossing her half-eaten apple core into the underbrush. “For your information, I have options.”Elizabeth leaned in, grinning. “Name one.”Lisa pursed her lips, clearly scrambling. “Well… Ethan asked if I was going.”Elizabeth burst into laughter. “Ethan asked everyone if they were going.”Ginerva couldn’t help but giggle. “He even asked old Mrs. Potter.”Lisa groaned dramatically, throwing herself back into the grass. “Fine! I might not have a suitor, but at least I’m not agonizing over it like you two.”Ginerva stiffened, heat creeping up her neck. “I—I’m not agonizing.”Lisa propped herself up on her elbows. “Oh, really? So, you wouldn’t mind if a certain someone asked Elizabeth before you?”Ginerva opened her mouth, then snapped it shut, suddenly very interested in pulling at the frayed hem of her sleeve.Elizabeth, to her credit, only smirked. “Oh, I’d say yes just to see the look on her face.”Ginerva’s face burned hotter. “You wouldn’t.”“Wouldn’t I?”For a heartbeat, Ginerva forgot to breathe. The warmth of Elizabeth’s proximity, the playful glint in her eye, sent a strange flutter through her chest. They were close, close enough to…Lisa clapped her hands together, breaking the moment. “Well! That settles it! Ginerva and Elizabeth are both hopeless, and I’m going to dance with every boy at the festival just to make up for it.”“Or I could be your suitor, Lisa?” Elizabeth said as she acted all manly, pulling Lisa into her lap. Lisa let out a dramatic gasp, pressing a hand to her chest as if she might faint. “Oh, my dearest Elizabeth, you honor me!” she cried, swooning into Elizabeth’s arms. “But alas, I fear my heart is too wild to be tamed by just one lover!”Elizabeth chuckled, tightening her hold around Lisa’s waist. “A shame. I was ready to offer you my undying devotion, fight off all the men of the village, and carve our initials into the old oak as proof of my love.”Lisa snorted, wiggling free and sitting up. “Please, you’d get bored in a week.” She shot Ginerva a knowing glance. “Besides, we both know who you’d rather carve initials with.”Ginerva, who had been watching the whole exchange with a mix of amusement and lingering warmth, stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”Lisa grinned, stretching her arms behind her head. “Oh, nothing.”Elizabeth rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it, which only made Ginerva’s heart thump harder.The laughter faded after a moment, replaced by the quiet rustling of the trees. The weight of their earlier conversation, of the Inquisition’s looming presence, settled back over them.Lisa sighed, flopping onto her back again. “Do you think they’ll come before the festival?”Ginerva picked at a blade of grass. “No one our age has ever seen an Inquisitor before. We don’t even know what to expect.”Elizabeth’s voice softened. “My father says they’re thorough. That they ask questions in ways that make even the innocent doubt themselves.”Lisa shivered. “That sounds terrifying.”Ginerva nodded, her fingers tightening around the grass. “It is.”Elizabeth shifted closer, her knee brushing against Ginerva’s. “They’ll be looking for witches,” she murmured. “For signs of curses, for the wrong kind of prayers.” She hesitated. “For people like Lady Furwood.”Lisa exhaled through her nose. “Do you think she is a witch?”Ginerva hesitated, the image of green lights flashing in her mind. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But if she isn’t… and they still find her guilty…”Elizabeth’s expression darkened. “Then it won’t matter what she is.”Silence fell between them. The air felt heavier, the trees pressing in as if listening.Lisa sat up suddenly, shaking off the unease with a forced smile. “Well, that was depressing. I take it back—let’s not talk about the Inquisition.”Elizabeth smirked, nudging Ginerva playfully. “Agreed. Besides, I’d much rather focus on convincing Ginerva to go to the festival with me.”Ginerva sputtered. “Wh—who said I was going?”Lisa cackled. “Oh, you’re going. And if you don’t dance with Elizabeth, I will.”Ginerva groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I hate you both.”Elizabeth only laughed, leaning back against the hollow oak. “No, you don’t.”Ginerva sighed. No, she didn’t. But it would be easier if she did.“We should all carve our initials inside this tree. We will always be the dearest of friends, right? We will always love one another.” Lisa said with sincerity that didn’t match her earlier spell of humor. Elizabeth’s smirk softened as she glanced between them, her fingers brushing against the rough bark of the hollow oak. “Of course,” she said, quieter now. “Always.”Ginerva felt there was something about Lisa’s words—something final as if she needed to say it, to make it real, to make it last.Lisa reached for the small knife she kept tucked in her belt, flipping it open with a flick of her wrist. “Then let’s do it,” she said. “Our initials, right here, so no matter what happens, no matter where life takes us, we’ll always be here.”She turned to Ginerva first. “You start.”Ginerva hesitated, her fingers hardly still as she took the knife. The weight of it, small as it was, felt heavier than it should have. She looked at Elizabeth, whose expression was unreadable—soft, expectant, but distant in a way Ginerva couldn’t quite place.Slowly, she pressed the tip of the knife into the bark, carving the first letter of her name. G.Elizabeth leaned in closer, watching the slow movements of Ginerva’s hands. “You’re careful with it,” she murmured. “Like you don’t want to hurt the tree.”Ginerva glanced at her, a nervous smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe I don’t.”“Then I suppose I’ll have to be the reckless one.”She took the knife next, carving E beside Ginerva’s letter with quick, confident strokes. “There,” she said with satisfaction, passing the blade to Lisa.Lisa grinned, carving her L right alongside theirs. She leaned back, admiring their work. “That’s it, then,” she said. “Bound by the oak. No matter what.”The wind stirred the leaves above them, whispering through the branches as if carrying their promise through the forest.Ginerva traced the grooves of her initial with her fingertip. “I hope we never have to test it,” she said.Elizabeth leaned her head against the tree. “Me too.”Lisa huffed, crossing her arms. “Enough with the gloom; we’re supposed to be celebrating our eternal friendship, not mourning it.”Elizabeth chuckled, nudging Ginerva’s knee with hers. “She’s right. Let’s not think about endings.”Ginerva forced a smile, but deep down, a gnawing unease remained. The Inquisition was coming. The village was changing. And some part of her feared that, no matter what they carved into the oak, nothing could truly last forever. That one day this would be nothing more than a memory long lost. That her two closest friends would move on without her, that a man would take them away and she would be alone; all alone."What would you two do if you had magic?" she said.Elizabeth let out a sharp laugh, stretching her legs out before her. “Oh, that’s easy. I’d make myself the most beautiful gowns—silk, velvet, all in the richest colors. And I’d make sure my hair always curled just right, even in the rain.”Lisa groaned. “That’s what you’d use magic for? You could do anything, and you’d choose vanity?”Elizabeth grinned, twirling a loose curl between her fingers. “You say vanity, I say a life of ease.”Lisa scoffed, tossing a twig at her. “I’d do something real with it. Like… make the crops grow year-round so no one ever starves. Or—” her eyes gleamed with mischief, “turn all the church sermons into song and make the priest sing them in falsetto.”Ginerva snorted. “Lisa!”“What? You asked.”Elizabeth shook her head, laughing. “You’d get burned for that one.”Lisa leaned back on her elbows, sighing dramatically. “Then I’d go out making history.”They both turned to Ginerva then, waiting. She hesitated, curling her fingers in the grass. “I think…” she started, then bit her lip.“What?” Elizabeth pressed, leaning closer.Ginerva exhaled. “I think I’d use it to know the truth. About people. About the things no one speaks of. What happened to Lady Goodman? Whether Lady Furwood is truly cursed. If the Inquisitors already know who they’re coming for.”A hush fell between them. Lisa sat up straighter, her playful expression dimming. “That’s a dangerous kind of magic.”Elizabeth’s gaze lingered on Ginerva’s face, something unreadable in her eyes. “Would you really want to know?”Ginerva swallowed. “I don’t know.”Lisa broke the silence with a shudder. “Well, I’d rather not have magic. Knowing too much is how you end up in a noose.”Elizabeth hummed. “Or worse.”“Can I trust the both of you?”“What is it?” They both said simultaneously.Deep down she knew that saying these next phrase would determine if forever truly was meant to be."I... I think I have magic."Elizabeth and Lisa sat quietly, neither saying a word. Ginerva eyed their expression, "It's easier to show you. It just started happening recently." She raised her finger and translucent strands latched onto a twig and she pulled it into her hand.Lisa let out a sharp breath, her eyes locked onto the thin, translucent strand still clinging to Ginerva’s fingertip. Elizabeth, for once, was utterly silent, her usual playful smirk nowhere to be seen.Ginerva’s heart pounded as she let the string fade, watching it unravel into nothingness. “Say something,” she urged, barely above a whisper.Lisa was the first to move. She reached forward, hesitantly brushing her fingers through the air where the strand had been, as if trying to feel something unseen. “You weren’t lying,” she murmured. “You really—” She stopped, inhaling sharply.Elizabeth, still quiet, finally met Ginerva’s gaze. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of awe and something deeper, something heavier. “How long?” she asked.Ginerva swallowed. “A few weeks. Maybe longer, but I only started noticing recently. It happens when I concentrate… when I reach for something. Like pulling threads no one else can see.”Lisa exhaled, rubbing her face. “Gin, this isn’t—this isn’t just some parlor trick. This is—”“Dangerous,” Elizabeth finished for her, her voice low.Ginerva nodded. “I know.”The silence between them was thick, the weight of their words pressing down like the canopy above. The hollow oak had always been their sanctuary, their escape from the prying eyes of the village. But now, even here, the walls felt thinner, as if the trees themselves might whisper secrets beyond their circle.Lisa shook her head. “No one can know. Not a soul.”Ginerva bit her lip. “I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t trust you.”Elizabeth studied her, eyes flickering with something Ginerva couldn’t quite place. Then, slowly, she reached out, taking Ginerva’s hand in hers. “We believe you,” she said softly. “And we won’t tell. But, Ginerva… are you sure this is something you can control?”Ginerva hesitated, fingers curling slightly against Elizabeth’s palm. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I have to try.”Lisa let out a shaky breath before forcing a smirk. “Well, if you start floating in your sleep or making chickens talk, I’m out.”Elizabeth shot her a glare, but Ginerva laughed—an actual laugh, however brief. “I’ll try to keep the chickens quiet.”Lisa huffed, flopping dramatically against the tree trunk. “Good. Because if the Inquisitors find out… we’ll all be in trouble.”Ginerva knew that. She had known it from the moment she first saw the threads. But hearing it aloud made the fear settle deeper. The Inquisition wasn’t just a shadow in their town—it was coming.Ginerva hesitated. The thought had crossed her mind before, but she had been too afraid to try. Magic—if that’s what this was—was already dangerous enough. To use it on a person? That was something else entirely.“I… don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve only used it to pull things toward me. A twig, a ribbon, a fallen apple—never something living.”Elizabeth’s grip on her hand tightened, her eyes dark and searching. “But if you could?” she pressed.Ginerva swallowed. “Why do you ask?”Lisa, who had been lounging against the hollow oak, sat up straighter. “Elizabeth, that’s not funny,” she said, her usual lighthearted tone absent.“I’m not joking,” Elizabeth said, her voice low. “What if she could stop something before it happened? What if she could pull someone away—save them?”Ginerva shivered. “Or hurt them,” she said quietly.Elizabeth didn’t respond immediately. Her fingers twitched against Ginerva’s, but she didn’t let go. Instead, she looked toward the distant treetops, her face unreadable. “The Inquisitors,” she finally murmured. “If they come asking questions… if they come for someone we care about…”Lisa paled. “Elizabeth, stop.”But Ginerva understood. The Inquisitors were faceless in their minds, a force only spoken of in hushed whispers, but they were real. And they were coming.Could she use her magic on them?Would she?“Try it. On me, Ginerva. Make me hug, Lisa.” Elizabeth said.Ginerva’s breath hitched. Try it. On Elizabeth?Lisa shot up from where she was sitting. “Elizabeth, are you out of your mind?”Elizabeth smirked, but there was something else beneath it—a flicker of curiosity, maybe even something deeper. “Oh, come on. It’s just a little experiment.” She spread her arms wide, as if inviting Ginerva to test her will. “If she can move a twig, why not a person?”Ginerva clenched her fingers. “Elizabeth, this isn’t a game.”“Then prove it,” Elizabeth challenged. “If your magic is real—if you can do more than pull at little things—then show us.”Lisa huffed, crossing her arms. “Fine. But if I end up getting hugged against my will, I’m taking revenge.”A nervous laugh bubbled in Ginerva’s throat, but it died as she looked between them. She could feel it already, the invisible threads stretching out from her fingertips, latching onto Elizabeth’s sleeve like spider silk. She focused, inhaling deeply. The air felt heavier, the moment stretching as she willed the strands forward—toward Elizabeth, toward Lisa—toward an action she wasn’t sure she was ready for.Then she pulled.Elizabeth jerked forward, a gasp escaping her lips as the unseen force drew her toward Lisa. The moment only lasted seconds, but in that brief pull, it worked. Elizabeth stumbled right into Lisa’s lap, arms thrown around her shoulders in a half-embrace.Lisa shrieked. “GINERVA!”Elizabeth blinked, then burst into laughter. “It worked! You actually, oh, I can’t believe it—”Lisa pushed at Elizabeth’s shoulders. “Get off me, you heathen! You witches are conspiring against me!”Ginerva released the breath she had been holding, heart pounding. It had worked. Not just on a twig. Not just on something small. She had pulled a person.Elizabeth looked at her, eyes bright with something unreadable. Admiration? Fear? Something in between?Lisa groaned, dramatically flopping back into the grass. “Great. Now I have two problems. One—Ginerva has magic. Two—Elizabeth is enjoying this way too much.”Ginerva rubbed her arms, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the clearing. “I don’t think I should do that again.”Elizabeth, still breathless with excitement, grinned. “But you could.”Ginerva met her gaze.Yes. She could. And that terrified her."One more demonstration. Uhm. Make me and Lisa kiss your cheek." Elizabeth said.Ginerva’s breath caught in her throat.Lisa groaned. “Elizabeth, no.”Elizabeth leaned forward, her smirk playful, but her eyes held a quiet challenge. “Come on, Gin. One more demonstration. Make us kiss your cheek.”Ginerva’s face burned hotter than the midsummer sun. She could barely process the request, let alone act on it. Lisa was already shaking her head, throwing her hands in the air. “First, you make me hug you, and now you want to kiss Ginerva? Are you possessed?”Elizabeth shrugged. “What? I’m just testing the limits.”Ginerva swallowed hard, her pulse thundering in her ears. Could she do it? Could she make them move in such a delicate way? She didn’t know how this magic worked—it was all instinct, all feeling. And right now, her feelings were a tangled mess.“I-I don’t know if I should…” Ginerva murmured.Elizabeth tilted her head, watching her closely. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?”Ginerva flinched.Lisa sighed. “Elizabeth, stop pressuring her.”Elizabeth’s expression softened, just a little. “I just want her to own it, Lisa. To see what she’s capable of. If she’s going to hide from this, it’ll eat her alive.” She turned back to Ginerva. “So? What will it be?”Ginerva’s fingers curled into the fabric of her dress. Maybe Elizabeth had a point. If she was going to carry this power, she had to understand it. Control it.Slowly, she raised her hand, invisible threads extending toward them. She felt it again—the strange pull, the way the magic wove itself into the world. It latched onto Lisa’s sleeve, Elizabeth’s collar, the warmth of their breath mixing with the summer air.She pulled.Lisa’s face scrunched in panic as she felt herself move against her will. “Ginerva, wait—”But the force was gentle, guiding them forward until panic sat in. Lisa and Elizabeth’s bodies were lurched forward, caught in her spell, drawn toward her like puppets on unseen strings. And Instead of their lips meeting her cheeks—They met hers.Both of them.Ginerva barely had time to register the warmth, the pressure—Elizabeth on one side, Lisa on the other, their lips brushing against hers at the same time, soft and fleeting but undeniably real.She panicked once more. With a startled gasp, she flung her hands up, breaking the connection. The invisible threads snapped, sending Lisa and Elizabeth tumbling away from her.Lisa landed on her back, eyes wide as saucers. Elizabeth fell onto her hands, staring at Ginerva in stunned silence.It was barely a touch. A second at most.But it happened.Lisa recoiled like she’d been burned, wiping at her mouth with both hands. “WHAT IN THE KING’S NAME—GINERVA—WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”Ginerva was frozen in place, mortified, her hands still hovering uselessly in the air. “I—I didn’t mean to! I was aiming my cheeks! I messed up—”Elizabeth, unlike Lisa, hadn’t moved. Her fingers brushed her lips absently, her gaze locked on Ginerva with an unreadable expression. And then—she laughed. A real, deep laugh, full of mischief.“Oh, Ginerva,” she sighed, shaking her head. “If you’re going to make girls kiss you, you should at least own it.”Ginerva let out a strangled noise, covering her face with both hands. “I want to die.”Lisa shoved Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Stop encouraging her! This is serious! What if someone saw? What if the Inquisitors—”Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Lisa, no one saw. And besides—” she turned back to Ginerva, a slow smirk curling her lips—“I didn’t mind. And you didn’t either.”Ginerva peeked at her through her fingers, pulse hammering in her throat.Lisa groaned again, “I hate both of you.”Elizabeth leaned back on her palms, “Do you, though?”Lisa threw a twig at her.The distant sound of thunder and the smell of sweetness was the telltale sign of impending rain.“We should get back,” Ginerva said.Lisa sat up, brushing the leaves from her skirt. “Agreed. I’d rather not get drenched before the festival.”Elizabeth, however, made no move to stand. She tilted her head back, closing her eyes as if daring the sky to open up. “I like the rain,” she mused. “It makes everything smell fresh.”Ginerva felt the same way—the scent of rain was comforting, grounding. But right now, she needed distance. Her skin still tingled from the accidental kiss, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and nerves.She stood quickly, brushing dirt from her palms. “Come on, Elizabeth. If it starts pouring, your ribbons will be ruined.”Elizabeth cracked an eye open and huffed. “Fine, fine.” She rose gracefully, stretching her arms above her head. “But only because I spent too much coin on them.”The three of them started back, retracing their steps through the woods. The thick canopy overhead kept most of the sky hidden, but Ginerva could sense the storm creeping closer—the air was heavy, charged.Lisa nudged her. “So, uh… about earlier.”Ginerva’s breath caught.Lisa glanced away, rubbing the back of her neck. “You’re sure no one saw, right?”“No one was around,” Ginerva assured her, though her nerves hadn’t settled. “It was just us.”Lisa exhaled, relief flickering across her face. “Good. Not that I—I mean, it was just a stupid accident. But, you know. People talk.”Elizabeth strolled ahead of them, hands clasped behind her back. “Maybe they should talk,” she mused. “Might make life more interesting.”Lisa shot her a look. “Elizabeth.”“What?” Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder, her smirk playful. “It’s not our fault Ginerva has secret powers that make girls kiss her.”Ginerva groaned. “Please stop saying it like that.”Elizabeth chuckled but relented. “Alright, alright. But I will say, Gin, if you’re going to keep using that magic of yours, you need to be careful.”Lisa nodded, suddenly serious. “She’s right. We still don’t know what it is, or what it can do. And with the Inquisitors coming…”No one their age had ever seen the King’s Inquisitors before. They were stories, whispers passed around in frightened voices—men in dark cloaks, eyes sharp as wolves, hands stained with the blood of those deemed unnatural.“How do you think they’ll search?” Ginerva asked.Elizabeth shrugged, but her expression was tense. “I imagine they’ll watch first. Listen. Look for any signs of witchcraft.”Lisa hugged herself. “But how do they know? What if they accuse someone innocent?”Elizabeth’s smirk was gone now, replaced by something colder. “I don’t think they care.”A shiver ran through Ginerva. She thought of Lady Furwood in the stocks, of the whispers, of the fear spreading like rot through the village. The way she screamed and burned, the smell of burnt flesh ruled the town. “I don’t want to die.”“I would hope not, Chosen.” Ginerva’s body froze, too fearful to turn around as the sound of the booming voice rang in her head; deeper than any man’s voice she had ever heard. She felt it. A hand on each shoulder, the cold breath of a shadow that lingered on her back.Her heart began pounding, breath shuttering, slowing as Elizabeth and Lisa walked ahead, Ginerva could see strands unlike hers, were black and dripped with a black substance that stained the path. "Turn around... Ginerva." The voice of the shadow said.Ginerva ignored it. Fear was taking hold, but she wouldn't do it—not because she was brave, but because she didn't want to see what called her name, to match the voice to a face she would never be able to forget."Your bloodline is mine.”The shadow's hand wrapped around her throat, its cold presence was sapping all the warmth from her. "Rebuild my shrine.”Cold seeped into her bones, a creeping frost that spread through her veins like poison.“You use my power,” it repeated, its voice neither angry nor cruel, but resolute. Inevitable. The words were a simple fact, as undeniable as the darkness that wrapped around her like a shroud.Her mind reeled. Mother… Grandmother… Had they felt this? Had they, too, stood in this numbing abyss, unable to turn, unable to deny the claim laid upon their souls?The voices of Elizabeth and Lisa faded ahead, their footsteps distant, unreal. The only sound was the shadow’s whisper, seeping into her very being.“Rebuild my shrine.”A command, not a plea. Not a request.“Ginerva.” She blinked and there Elizabeth and Lisa stood before her, their faces creased with concern. Lisa reached out first, hesitant. Had they seen it? Had they heard?“Ginerva?” Elizabeth’s voice was soft, but there was an edge to it, a knowing suspicion.Ginerva swallowed hard, the taste of iron on her tongue. Her hands trembled at her sides, though she willed them to still. Did they not feel the cold? Did they not see the darkness dripping into the earth?Lisa glanced over her shoulder as if expecting to see something lurking behind her, but there was nothing. Nothing but the path, the village beyond, and the distant echoes of a name whispered in a voice too deep to be human.“…Are you all right?” Elizabeth said.Ginerva forced a nod, though the chill still clung to her skin. She could still feel it. The claim, the command.“Rebuild my shrine.”“We should get back; my Mother will be expecting me soon.”