The murmurs of the Conclave faded around him, swallowed by rustling leaves and the hush of twilight settling over the forest.
The Book of Spells gripped loosely in one hand—yet it pulsed faintly against his palm, like a heartbeat. For a brief moment, when the book was placed in his hand, the air had shifted—not with power, but with memory. Old magic. Ancient and dormant… until her.
He turned the book over, studying its familiar, foreign surface. How had it returned? Why now? And why her?
Unnoticed by others, the book vibrated faintly under his fingertips, a subtle hum rose. It wasn't power. Not hers. But something was watching… tethered to her.
You're not a witch, little dove. But you've awakened something. And now, it's watching you through the cracks.
Behind him, he could still hear Egnatius barking accusations, too blind to see what truly matters. Typical. Let him bark.
Vincenzo's gaze lifted to the fading light above the treetops. A girl stumbles into an ancient forest, lies to the Conclave… and somehow, has the most coveted relic in existence?
This isn't coincidence. She's not just a girl with blue eyes and foolish courage. She's a key. Or a curse. And either way—She's mine to solve.
Vincenzo, master at shifting narratives to his favor, turned calmly toward Egnatius and said, "She may be your subject, Lightwood. But the Book of Spells falls under the Conclave's domain. If keeping it was a felony, then she's the Conclave's culprit—not yours. So pull in your high horse and let the Conclave decide whether she's to be charged."
Egnatius scowled. "Even if she is the Conclave's, she must be interrogated thoroughly!"
Noticing Vincenzo's repeated efforts to defend the girl, Archimedes intervened. "We have far more urgent matters to address than prosecuting a town girl who, let's not forget, is a mere human."
Bellatrix, silent until now, watched Vincenzo with narrowed eyes. She'd seen him shift pieces on the board before. And she knew what it looked like when he picked a target. And He had chosen this one.
She stepped forward and declared flatly, "The Conclave will keep the book. If necessary, we will summon the girl for further questioning. For now—you may leave."
Anneliese didn't need to be told twice. She bowed quickly and turned, walking away with a pace just shy of a sprint. If only she had wings that could've carried her home faster, she'd have used them.
She entered the house quietly, heading straight to her room. Her mind spun in a thousand directions, every breath heavy with confusion and disbelief.
Downstairs, Edmond noticed her boots by the door.
It wasn't like Ann to return home without greeting them.
Concerned, he climbed the stairs and gently knocked on her door. After a long silence, he slowly opened it.
He found her curled up in the chair near the window, eyes vacant, body folded inward.
He knelt down in front of her and placed a hand gently over hers, offering wordless comfort.
Ann turned slowly to face him. Seeing the worry in his eyes, she managed a soft whisper, "I'm okay, Papa… just shaken after the dark witch's murder."
Edmond nodded, not pressing. "I understand. It's not often something like that happens near our town. But you needn't worry, dear. The Conclave is handling it."
She gave a weak nod. But Edmond knew his daughter—she was not easily rattled. And the fear in her eyes was not from the murder alone.
He held her hand more firmly. "Ann… you know you can tell me anything, right? I'm always here for you, no matter what. Even if I can't fix it—I can carry it with you."
Ann's eyes welled. She placed her other hand over his. "You reminded me I'm not alone, Papa. There is something… but I'll figure it out. I promise, I won't let it consume me."
Downstairs, Althea called out for Edmond.
Ann gave him a small smile. "You should go. I'll be down in a moment."
He hesitated, then gave her hand one final squeeze before leaving.
She wanted to tell him everything. Every strange occurrence since yesterday. But she couldn't risk it. Not yet. Not when she didn't understand what was happening to her—or what danger it might bring.
After splashing water on her face and drying it with a towel, she descended the stairs.
The scent of warm food filled the air. She paused, surprised by how comforting it felt.
Even if the world is falling apart, she mused, a home-cooked meal can still make you forget for a moment.
They ate in quiet companionship. After dinner, she excused herself. "I'm really tired. Heading to bed. Goodnight."
Her parents wished her goodnight as she climbed back to her room.
There was too much on her mind. Too much to unravel. But exhaustion blanketed her, dulling every thought.
As soon as her head hit the pillow, the weight of the day pulled her under.