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The air is thick, smothering, as though I’m breathing through a heavy layer of smoke. Shadows dance on stone walls around me, cast by a dozen flickering torches. My feet move on their own, carrying me forward into the center of the room. I don’t know where I am, but I know who’s here.

Lara.

I feel her down to my very marrow.

Her voice echoes in my ears, sharp and commanding, speaking words I can’t even begin to comprehend. She’s standing at the heart of the room, surrounded by figures cloaked in black, their faces obscured by hoods.

The Solstice Society.

I don’t need to see their faces to know who they are—they radiate menace, their energy stifling and oppressive.

Lara doesn’t look like herself.

Her hair is slicked back into a tight ponytail, her usual softness gone, replaced by something cold and obstinate. Her hands move deftly, wielding a pair of blacksmith’s tongs that seem too heavy for her slim frame. She pulls a molten hunk of metal from a forge, her movements smooth, precise, like she’s done this a thousand times before.

The forge spits sparks into the air, illuminating her face. Her eyes are... wrong. Not the warm, mischievous eyes I grew up with but something darker. They gleam with an unnatural light, hard and unfeeling. Cursed with death and plague.

“What’s next, Lara?” a deep voice hisses from one of the hooded figures.

She doesn’t look up, doesn’t hesitate. “The silver must be folded three times. Infuse each fold with the incantation I gave you.”

The figure nods and turns away, moving to a table where weapons are laid out in meticulous rows. Stakes of pure silver, glinting even in the dim light. Daggers engraved with runes I can’t read. Chains laced with something that shimmers, glisten like moonlight.

I try to speak, to call out to her, but my voice remains locked in my throat.

Another figure steps forward, carrying a bowl of something black and viscous. They hand it to Lara, and she dips a brush into the liquid, then paints it onto the blade of a dagger. The metal hisses and smokes as the substance sinks into it, leaving behind a faint, pulsing glow.

“The curse will bind to the blade,” Lara says, her voice clinical, detached. “Any vampire struck with this will lose control. Feral instincts will take over. They’ll destroy themselves from the inside out.” She smiles a sickly sweet, menacing smile. “Thus, serving us.”

A murmur of approval ripples through the group.

This isn’t her. It cannot be her.

“Lara!” I scream, but no one reacts, no one even looks in my direction. My voice is devoured by the tyrannical weight hanging in the room.

The scene shifts suddenly, pulling me forward like a thread yanked too tight. I’m closer now, standing just a few feet from her. The smell of the forge is overwhelming, metallic and acrid. My head swims, but I can’t look away. It’s a hypnotizing, mind-numbing scene, and I’m sinking into it.

Lara sets down the dagger and picks up a stake, its tip still glowing faintly. She runs her thumb over it, testing the sharpened edge, and sneers—a small, cruel thing that twists my stomach.

“We’re close,” she says, her voice low but certain. “Soon, we won’t need her at all.”

Her?

The words strike me like a physical blow, and I stagger back, the room spinning around me. Lara’s eyes flick up, and for a heart-stopping moment, I swear she’s looking directly at me.

Right through me.

“You’ve ruined everything, Sylvie. You’ve ruined it all.”

She knows I’m here.

I stumble back again, the world tilting violently. The room begins to dissolve, the edges blurring like paint running in the rain.

“Lara!” I scream, but she’s already fading, her figure swallowed by the shadows. The last thing I see is the glowing weapons, their light pulsating like a too-slow, dying heartbeat.

I bolt upright in bed, gasping for air. My chest heaves as I clutch at the blankets, my skin clammy and slick with sweat. The vision—dream?—is still vivid in my mind, every detail sharp and wholly unbearable.

“Lara,” I whisper, my voice breaking as I cry out.

I press a hand to my chest, trying to steady the wild pounding of my heart. She’s in danger.

Or worse—she’s become the danger.

One Week Later…

While Lucian is at the school for a full day of teaching, I find myself wandering through downtown Blackthorne, looking for a quaint hole-in-the-wall spot Nicole and Rebecca told me may help with the Lara dilemma. From what I’m being told, getting Lara’s humanity back isn’t going to be easy, and I’ve been warned by several people that we shouldn’t even try—but she’s still my sister. I owe it to her.

I just have to figure out my next steps.

It’s one of those crisp mornings where the air smells faintly of frost, even though winter hasn’t fully taken hold yet. The narrow cobblestone streets are dotted with small shops, their windows dressed in cozy displays of candles, knit scarves, and books.

I’ve been meaning to get out of my head, to do something normal, but the vision I had of Lara the morning after everything went down at Lucian’s house still lingers like a weight pressing firmly on my chest. I’m restless, spiraling, and the thought of everything in front of me feels nearly unendurable. It’s been one full week since Lara woke up without her humanity and left willingly with Amara. One week of an entirely different pain than I’ve ever known before. To know my sister is out there, walking around, willingly trying to destroy people I care about…

It's just too much.

I thought when we found our way around the virgin element to the curse, I’d get my sister back and we could take on the Society together—with Lucian, and Rebecca and Nicole. I was so, so wrong, though. I never even saw it coming. I knew they’d try to bring me down. I knew they’d be pissed at me for ruining their well-thought-out plans. I just didn’t know the price would be Lara’s humanity.

I pass a bookstore that looks like it’s seen better days, and that’s when I see it: Petals and Potions Apothecary. A wrought-iron sign swings gently in the breeze, its golden script lettering catching the light as it sways. The storefront is charming, with ivy curling around the windows and bundles of dried herbs hanging on the door. There’s something about it that draws me in, like the place is calling to me.

I gently open the door, and a chime of bells rings throughout the shop.

Inside, the air is warm and smells of lavender and sage—and something else vaguely floral that I can’t put my finger on. Shelves line the walls, crammed with jars of dried flowers, vials of colorful liquids, and books with titles in languages I can’t read. It’s a witch’s haven, and I feel a peculiar sense of comfort wrap around me when stepping inside.

“Be with you in a moment, dear!” a warm voice calls out.

I wander deeper into the shop, letting my fingers trail over the edges of various sized bottles and jars. Everything here feels alive, humming with energy that’s nearly palpable. It’s cozy and unlike anywhere I’ve ever been before. That sense of familiarity and comfort seeps into my body and I take a deep breath for what feels like the first time in too long.

“Sorry about that,” the voice says again, and I turn to see a woman emerging from a back room. She’s tall and slim, with beautifully braided dark hair streaked with silver, and kind, gray eyes that seem to hold centuries of knowledge. Her presence is compelling, commanding, but warm and inviting in a way I’m not sure I’ve ever known.

“Well, you must be new,” she says, her lips curling into a knowing, genuine smile. “A Blackthorne attendee, no doubt.”

“You’d be right,” I tell her with a small smile of my own. “This is my first year at Blackthorne. I’m Sylvie.”

“Ravenna,” she replies, wiping her hands on a purple cloth peeking out from her apron. “Welcome to my little mystical corner of chaos.” Her bright smile widens. “What brings you in, my dear?”

I hesitate, unsure how to explain everything in a way that won’t make this woman look at me like I’ve gone completely insane—even though it feels like I have, and one half of me truly believes this is all a horrible nightmare.

“I, uh…” I flounder, all words ceasing to exist in my brain. “Well. My friends told me this might be the place I could get some insight on some issues I’ve been having,” I say, feeling like that explains exactly…nothing at all.

Ravenna studies me for a moment, her light gray gaze piercing but not unkind. “Well, you and your friends have good instincts. This place tends to find the people who need it most.”

Before I can respond, the door swings open behind me, and a young, light-haired man walks in, clutching a box. He’s out of breath, his cheeks flushed from the chill of the morning.

“Hey, Ravenna. Sorry to interrupt, he says, glancing my way with a grin and a nod. “Just dropping this off. And... well, also here to say my goodbyes,” he says, setting the box on the counter.

“Goodbye?” Ravenna raises an eyebrow, shifting her focus as she walks closer to the man. “What do you mean, dear?”

“I got the internship I was telling you about. I leave for New York next week.” He shrugs like he’s trying to not be as excited as he wants to be in order to protect Ravenna’s feelings.

Ravenna sighs, walking over to him, but there’s a glimmer of pride in her eyes. “Good for you, Nate. You’ll be missed around here.” She gives him a warm embrace and he wraps his arms tightly around her in return.

They exchange a few more words before the man—Nate—waves and leaves, the bell above the door chiming softly, a bundle of herbs rustling.

“Well,” Ravenna says, turning back to me. “That was rather sudden, wasn’t it?” she says with a half-hearted smile. “I’d love to hear all about exactly how I can help you Sylvie, but also…you wouldn’t happen to be looking for a part-time job, would you?”

The question catches me off guard. “Oh, I don’t know. I mean, I wasn’t planning to...”

She laughs, a rich, musical sound. “Don’t overthink it, dear. Just a few hours a week, and I’ll make it worth your while. Pay, of course. And mentorship, if you’re interested.”

“Mentorship?”

Ravenna leans against the counter, folding her arms. “You’ve got a spark, my dear. I can feel it. Rebecca and Nicole are the friends who told you about me, yes?”

My eyes widen. “You know them?” I’m forgetting about the fact that the girls told me she’s a witch from the Guild, and she probably knows everything about me without having to ask even one question.

“Of course. I’ve been mentoring those two for years. They’ve mentioned you, as well. Told me things. And I think it’s nothing other than fate that you and Nate stopped in at the same time. I’m well aware of who you are, Sylvie Rosenthal. And I’ve been waiting for you to come in and see me.”

A flicker of curiosity sparks in me. “And who am I?”

Ravenna’s expression softens as she closes the distance between us. “Someone with much more potential than you realize. The Everdawn lineage, your mother’s ancestry, is no small thing, Sylvie. It’s rooted in some of the most powerful witch and vampire lore in all of existence. We studied your family growing up in the Guild. There’s rich history there, depth. And you... you’re at the center of it.”

Her words send a cold chill down my spine, but it’s not fear—it’s something else entirely. I’ve learned plenty about my lineage in a short amount of time, but hearing people talk about the Everdawns so highly still gives me pause.

I think about Lara, about the dreams, the visions—about everything that’s been happening since I came to Blackthorne. Maybe Ravenna’s right. Maybe I’m meant to be here, to figure this out. And there’s obviously a reason I was meant to meet this kind-hearted woman in front of me. I can’t deny the warmth she radiates, and the peacefulness I’ve felt since stepping into her shop. I have my parents’ trust, of course, but I should probably consider bringing some money in eventually as well. Maybe if this works out, I could pick up more hours.

I swallow hard and look her in the eye, nodding. “Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll take the job.”

Ravenna smiles, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel like I might be on the right path.