She released a slow breath. “Cillian disappeared, and no one could find him. So I took it upon myself to get answers.”
Instinctively, it seemed, Alaric reached across the table, his hand resting gently over hers. But Evelyne pulled away instantly.
“Please, Alaric. Don’t.”
Regret and sadness flickered in his eyes, but he remained silent as he pulled his hand away.
When Charise returned, she carried a tea tray and carefully handed them each a teacup. The delicate porcelain was warm against Evelyne’s fingers as Charise gently poured the fragrant green tea. A quiet moment settled between them until Charise finally spoke, lightly tapping her fingers against her cup.
“I’m not certain how much you already know, but I’ll do my best to answer your questions.” She shifted her gaze to Evelyne.
“Your brother came to my shop while he was here. He also spent time in the library—with my mother. And from what I overheard about his disappearance, I’d say my friend was right to bring you both here.”
Evelyne’s grip on her cup tightened. So many questions swirled inside her; she didn’t know where to start. Who was this woman and whatfriendwas she referring to? And if magic were truly real… how could she trust her? She glanced down at the tea, suddenly hesitant to take a sip.
Charise caught the look and gave a faint grin. “It’s just green tea. Nothing more.”
“What are you?” Evelyne blurted, but Charise didn’t flinch.
“I’m a witch. As is my mother, and my ancestors before her. My family has lived in Velenshire for generations.”
A witch.
The stories Evelyne had once dismissed as childhood myths—they were real. And now, she sat face to face with one.
“And why did you summon us here?” Alaric asked.
“Because you will need each other,” Charise replied.
Evelyne scoffed, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “I don’t need him.” She barely spared Alaric a glance before continuing, “I’m here because I need answers. I need to find my brother, and that’s all that matters. Can you help me with that or not?”
Charise exhaled softly, unshaken by Evelyne’s stubbornness. “You don’t yet understand what lies ahead,” she said, eyes flashing toward Alaric. “But you will need him. He knows the paths. He has the knowledge you’ll require to find your brother. And in turn, the journey will provide him with the answers he seeks.”
Evelyne’s head snapped toward him now, suspicion tightening in her chest. “What answers areyoulooking for, exactly?”
Alaric cleared his throat. “My father sent me to investigate the disturbances along the trade routes. There have been reports of… dark figures intercepting them for weeks. And I was forbidden to speak to anyone outside our families and men.”
Right. She remembered her father stating Alaric would be sent to Velenshire, though she hadn’t thought twice about when.
“Why?” she asked. “Why is magic being kept a secret from everyone?”
“Long ago, the witches of Velenshire struck a pact with a handful of noble families who had stumbled upon our presence—and saw us as a threat,” Charise said quietly. “To avoid open conflict, we forged an arrangement. We would remain here, our magic concealed from the wider world, so long as our craft was turned toward shielding humanity from the dangers that prowl beyond. From those who might seek to claim this land—should they ever uncover the power buried beneath it. The covens bound themselves by oath to guard the south from such threats, and in return, we were granted the right to remain hidden, practicing our spells in secret.”
“And what of the people living beyond the southern lands?” Evelyne asked.
“Most humans live here,” Charise said. “Some reside in the eastern villages of Centaro, and a few dare to settle farther north—but the majority remain in the south. The more humans we keep here, the easier it is to make others believe these lands hold no powerful magic.”
This was all too much. And what did she mean by powerful magic? Questions flooded her mind, but time was not a luxury she could afford.
Evelyne released a sharp breath, steadied herself, and reached into her carpet bag, pulling out the worn leather-bound book and setting it firmlyon the table. Flipping through its pages, she found the passage she needed and tapped her finger against the title.
“I would love nothing more than to sit here all day unraveling the fabric of my reality,” she said dryly. “But I believe I now have a sufficient understanding that my entire upbringing was built on falsehoods, and that I have spent my life surrounded by liars and witches. So…” She tilted her head. “Would you be so kind as to explain what exactly this passage is referring to?”
Charise carefully turned the book toward herself, her eyes scanning the words, lips pressing together as she slowly nodded. “Yes,” she murmured. “This is why I brought you here. To tell you the story of Kaya and Vaelora.”
Charise started retelling the story Evelyne had only just begun to uncover.
“The twin witches, Kaya and Vaelora, held immense power in Velenshire. Too much power.” She traced the rim of her teacup as she spoke. Evelyne felt Alaric’s knee bouncing beneath the table—the only sign of his nerves.
