“The Sea Witch?” Alice’s brow creased.
“Her father was from the Isle of the Sea Serpent. A merman. Her mother was a witch from here, the Isle of Magic. Magna came from a powerful bloodline. The parasite took advantage of that, and she—she turned every dragon to stone. Except Drago. He’s the King of the Dragons.”
Alice’s eyes widened. “How did anyone stop her?”
“A woman named Carly came through a portal. She started a series of events that led to the defeat of the parasite.”
Alice tilted her head. “Carly… Do you know where she came from?”
“Earth,” Geoff replied. “Same place as Mike Hallbrook. He’s the one who shot Magna.”
Alice’s breath caught. “That’s where my mom is from. We’ve visited a few times.”
Geoff blinked. “You have?”
“Yeah. My mom’s human. My dad’s Curizan. I’m… me,” she added with a crooked smile. “I’m not even sure how they met. Mom never talks about it. But I remember Dad saying once that when he saw her aura, he knew that they were meant to be together.”
Geoff slowed and turned toward her. He didn’t speak. He lifted his hand—slowly—and held it a breath away from her cheek.
Alice froze, her eyes widening when shimmering strands of light flared to life around his fingers. Her aura—soft and glowing, dancing like golden fireflies.
She stared at him. “You… you can see mine?”
Geoff smiled, and there was something quiet in his eyes. Something reverent. He let his hand fall and turned back to the path. “Come on. We’ve got a ways to go.”
Alice followed, her heart a muddle of confusion and curiosity. She could see his aura, too—a wash of earthy browns and vibrant greens, like sunlight on a forest floor. How was that possible?
Her cheeks flared again, and she stared after Geoff with a troubled gaze. She’d always thought that Bálint was her mate. What if she was wrong? What if?—
No! Bálint is different. We’ve always known. Haven’t we?
Doubt filled her mind, and once again she wished that she could talk to her mom or dad. They would know. Or her grandmother. She silently started walking again, lost in thought.
Ahead of her, Geoff pointed out the names of glowing toadstools, humming insects that carried pollen like golden dust, and a tiny foxlike creature that darted through the ferns with a chirp.
“What about the Night Howlers?” she asked.
“They hunt in small packs. Three to five usually. Mostly the females and the pups. The males are loners, bigger and meaner. We were lucky last night. With the storm, they were distracted. And Elder Oak… well, no beast wants to tangle with him.”
Alice shivered at the memory. “They sounded huge.”
“They are. That’s why people who know these woods use shields or charms to keep them away.”
As they walked, Alice tried once again to coax the energy to respond. She murmured to it, shaped her intent, and focused on summoning a hairbrush.
Instead, a floppy stick landed in her hand.
She groaned. “Ugh. Seriously? I asked for a hairbrush and got… a dying carrot.”
Geoff laughed. “There’s a cadence to spells. It’s a lot like singing to the energy. Watch.”
He focused and softly spoke under his breath:
“Bristle and wood, from root to crown,
Form with grace, soft bristles down.
Ease the tangles, smooth the fray,
