Josie
I panicked. My chest was a cage of fire, my hands clammy as dozens of eyes bore into me. Their whispers were sharp, daggers slicing into my skin. I could almost feel their accusations crawling up my neck, branding me with words I had long feared—witch, cursed, outcast.
Before I could crumble completely, Thorne stepped forward. His towering presence seemed to silence the noise as he reached out and smoothly took the mic from my trembling hands. His fingers brushed mine—steady, warm, grounding me in ways I wasn't ready to admit.
"She is not a witch," Thorne's deep voice thundered across the crowd, each word crisp and commanding. "She is not cursed. Josie is the goddess's blessing to us all."
A ripple of shock went through the gathering, as if no one had expected him to defend me so boldly. My heart stuttered. Blessing. He had called me a blessing.
