Chapter 2 Evi’s Pov

The house was too quiet at midnight. That was the problem with massive houses and rude stepbrothers.

I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling of a bedroom that was larger than my entire old apartment. It should have felt like a gift, but it was just too much space for an anxious girl and her thoughts. Sleep wouldn't come. Two distinct fears were fighting for room in my chest.

The first was tomorrow, I will be in a new school, unfamiliar hallways, and a hundred moments where I’d have to decide who I was going to be this time.

The second fear was worse.

I rolled over to look at my duffel bag resting against the wall. Hidden inside, wrapped in two scarves beneath my sneakers, was the book. It was bound in old leather with no title, only a symbol burned into the cover: a circle cut by a sharp crescent moon. I’d found it three weeks ago in the back of a secondhand occult shop. The shopkeeper had stared at me with immediate suspicion, but I paid and hurried out before she could ask too many questions.

The spell inside wasn't complicated, and the ingredients were simple. It was the price that made my hands sweat. The ritual could only be performed under a full moon, and the magic surrendered had to be total and permanent.

“Any incomplete surrender will rupture the vessel.”

Rupture the vessel. Meaning if my focus wavered for even a second, I would die. Tomorrow night was the full moon, and I’d been counting down the days. Honestly, I didn't care about the risk anymore. I just wanted it gone.

Giving up on sleep, I got out of bed at 12:47 a.m. I needed something warm and ordinary to anchor myself. Milk, maybe. I tiptoed down the stairs in my usual sleep clothes, a thin tank top and cotton shorts. Back home, no one was ever awake to see me in the middle of the night.

The kitchen was a sprawling expanse of clean marble, low ambient lighting, and high-end appliances. I managed to find the fridge, poured some milk into a mug, and let my mind go blank for a fraction of a second.

"Do you always walk around like that?"

I spun around so fast the milk nearly sloshed over the rim. Damian was leaning against the doorframe. He was shirtless, and against my will, I registered the flat, chiseled build of a hockey player and the dark tattoos creeping up his ribs and shoulder. He was observing me critically, like a problem he was deciding how to handle.

My skin prickled, my traitorous body instantly recognizing how attractive he was. I hated myself for it.

"I didn't know anyone was up," I said, my pulse spiking.

"Clearly." His eyes did a slow, dismissive pass over me, his jaw tightening. "Cover yourself. There's nothing to show off."

I blinked, stunned. "Excuse me?"

"This is a shared house," he said, his voice flat and sharp. "Not your bedroom. Put something on next time."

The fragile calm I'd built up vanished. "I am wearing clothes."

"You're barely wearing anything."

"It's my house too, apparently."

Something shifted in his face. His expression grew even colder, if that was possible. "Do whatever you want," he muttered. "Just stay out of my way."

He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and left without looking back. I stood there, my blood running hot with irritation, before taking my mug back upstairs. I didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

My mother knocked on my door at seven, already fully dressed and wearing her bright, rehearsed smile.

"Up," she said, stepping into the room. "First day."

I groaned into my pillow. She sat on the edge of the mattress and gently brushed my hair back, her expression turning serious.

"I was thinking," she said softly, "that maybe at this new school... you don't have to hide it."

I froze. She meant the magic. "Mom, no."

"Your father's gift—"

"—is basically a death sentence," I interrupted, sitting up. "You saw what happened at Firescrawn. They called me a witch. They blamed me for every bad thing that happened, and they tried to drag me onto the ice. I had no one."

"Those were frightened, small-minded people," she argued gently.

"All people are frightened when it comes to this." I pressed my fingers to my eyes. "I just want to be normal. That's it."

She was quiet for a long moment. "Your father was—"

"—gone," I finished. "He left, and the thing he passed down nearly got me killed."

She didn't push further. She kissed my temple, told me breakfast was ready, and left. As the door clicked shut, I looked back at the duffel bag. Tonight was the full moon. Tonight was the last night I would ever have to be afraid of what I was. If I survived the midnight spell, I would finally be free.

Richard was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, keys in hand and perfectly organized for the morning.

"Damian will drive you," he announced smoothly.

My stomach dropped. "Oh. I can just walk."

"It's four miles."

"I like walking."

Richard offered a polite, unyielding smile. "He knows the layout of the school. He'll get you there safely. It’s handled, Evi. It's time the two of you started bonding."

It's handled.

I choked down a quick breakfast in the kitchen, put my dishes in the dishwasher, and headed outside.

Damian was already waiting by his car, wearing a dark jacket and jeans with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He was typing on his phone and didn't look up as I approached the passenger side. He unlocked it without a word, and we both got in.

As we pulled out of the driveway, his cologne filled the small space—a clean, dark scent of cedar and rain. It felt entirely unfair that someone so cold could smell that good. I pressed myself against the passenger door and stared out the window, desperate for a distraction.

"You missed the turn," I said suddenly, just to break the silence.

"I didn't," he replied flatly.

Silence descended again. The trees thickened on either side of the road. Crownsdale was historic and heavily wooded, entirely different from our old town. I stared at my hands, the anxiety about tonight bubbling up until I couldn't stop the words from spilling out.

"Can I ask you something?"

He didn't say no, so I kept going.

"What do you think of witches?"

Damian's brow furrowed, a look of genuine confusion crossing his face. "What?"

"Witches," I repeated, trying to sound casual, as if this were perfectly normal small talk. "What's your general opinion? Do you think they're dangerous, or...?"

"Why are you asking me about witches?"

"Just curious. New town. I heard it's a topic around here."

He glanced at me briefly before looking back at the road. "It's not a topic I care about."

"Okay, but if you had to choose..."

"I don't care."

I nodded slowly, letting thirty seconds pass before pushing my luck one last time. "Do you think they deserve what happens to them? Historically speaking, with the burnings and—"

"What is wrong with you?" Damian demanded, slowing the car down.

"Nothing, I'm just—"

"Are you seriously asking me about witch burnings at eight in the morning?"

"I told you, I was just curious—"

"Stop talking."

I closed my mouth. We drove for another two minutes in a suffocating silence. But instead of continuing toward the school, Damian pulled the car over to the side of the road and shifted into park.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Look." He pointed out the window.

Nailed to a thick wooden post at the edge of the tree line was a large, official noticeboard. I followed his finger and read the bold text:

CROWNSDALE COMMUNITY WATCH: Protecting Our Town Since 1787.

REMINDER: The registration and monitoring of identified magical persons remains active under Community Ordinance 14. Unregistered practitioners, particularly female practitioners of hereditary magicare subject to immediate reporting.

If you suspect a witch in your community: Report. Do not engage. Do not protect. They will be hunted.