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PIPER

SIX MONTHS AGO

M y teeth chatter and I huddle down into my coat as I carefully step my way across the Briar Hollows Bridge.

The freezing November wind is brutal as I navigate the iron walkway.

The icy railing is so cold it burns my fingers, but the bridge has tiny holes that are perfect for catching my heels, so I’m not letting go.

Falling into the river is the last thing I need.

I’m dressed in formal wear, about to head to the founders’ parties. It’s the one night a year when all members of the founding families mingle across town borders. As a descendent of one of the most powerful families in Mystic Hollows, I’m forced by magic to attend.

I’d rather be holed up in a library or working on potions. Stupid, outdated traditions.

The city of Mystic Hollows was founded over four hundred years ago by a group of witches trying to escape persecution. The town has since turned into a haven of inequality, full of power- hungry witches. Oh, and all the firstborns of those powerful witching families are cursed.

The tourism brochure practically writes itself.

Tonight’s parties exemplify the worst of our coven.

You’d think a bunch of witches getting together would be fun, but they’re stuffy, snobby events where the founding families try to one-up each other.

I still have a scar on my hand, where a peacock from the Roth party bit me years ago.

I’m not exactly looking forward to whatever showboating will happen tonight, but I’m ready to get it over with.

Instead, I’m shivering in the cold about to make a wish off the Briar Hollows Bridge that will never come true.

All because my friend Stellan insisted this was necessary.

“Because I know you’re all poor.” Stellan plunks a coin into my hand and flicks one at his sister Ava, who nearly fumbles it before closing her fingers around the dime.

He holds out another by the tips of his fingers for Josephine.

She can’t be touched without feeling pain thanks to her family curse.

Years of friendship have taught us how to move around her without causing pain.

As the first and only Beaumont offspring, I’m also cursed.

Each of the firstborns have a unique curse.

Mine doesn’t react to touch like Josephine’s, or make people forget me like Ava’s curse.

It’s just slowly killing me. Once a month, I’m struck with a debilitating sickness that leaves me barely conscious and riddled with pain.

It’s like the flu cranked up to a hundred.

“You’re just as poor as the rest of us.” Ava rolls her eyes. She leans over the railing of the bridge, shoving her windblown brown hair out of her face in annoyance.

The river below is frozen on the edges, but down the middle, the water still rushes with a speed that would carry off anyone unfortunate enough to fall into its depths. I shiver from the cold, and the memory of once being thrown over this bridge.

The river cuts straight through the middle of town.

To the right is territory where the light witches of the Lumen coven live.

To our left is Tenebris coven land, where dark witches reside.

We don’t cross into each other's territory. Not openly at least, unless it’s for the founders’ parties.

Although when we were younger, we’d dare each other to sneak into Tenebris territory.

Even though I’m a chicken, I still did it.

I was terrified of getting caught the entire time.

Lights twinkle on both sides of the bridge.

Quaint shops line the riverfront. Restaurants, bookstores, and cafes where you can sit outside and people watch when it’s not winter sit next to stores that sell chocolates and confections.

We live in a very picturesque town that hides a lot of darkness under the surface.

“This is dumb. Why are we doing this again?” Ava sighs as she fiddles with her dime.

Legend has it that if you throw a coin into the river below and make a wish, the Briar Witch will grant it.

It’s a myth as true as Bloody Mary or dancing in a fairy ring in the woods.

They’re all silly games we believed in as children, but as we got older, it was clear that no one was going to spring out of the mirror or come and whisk us away to a fairyland.

There were no wishes being granted and, for sure, no one was coming to save us.

We are sunk deep into the mire of Mystic Hollows and our magical families. There’s no escape.

I’m not sure why anyone would think the Briar Witch would grant a wish.

She sacrificed herself in this very river to ensure all firstborn children of Mystic Hollows would suffer a family curse.

So I can’t imagine why she would care about any of my wishes, but traditions can sometimes be stronger than common sense.

I look down at the coin in my hand, my fingers red and stiff from the cold.

A chilly breeze tickles my cheeks and magic crackles in the air.

Maybe it’s foolish and not worth the breath to give thought to my wish, but something is churning in the ether tonight.

I close my eyes and send out a plea, despite knowing nothing will ever change for me.

I wish for freedom. Such a simple sounding thing, but so complex. It’s foolish to hope for change, because I can’t even attach the wish to one thing. Freedom from my curses, freedom from my uncle, freedom from the magical chains binding me.

Turning my hand over, I let my coin fall into the river below. The Briar Witch couldn’t save herself. Why would she grant me a wish when she’s the reason I’m cursed?

Darkness swallows up my coin. The river rushing below is too loud for me to hear if it hits the water. The coin disappears just like all my dreams. It’s another lost hope, swept away by this town. There’s no freedom, and no one is coming to save me.