Page 11 of Little Witch

"Nothing." I said honestly. "I just..." A shrug. "I guess I just needed to come home sooner."

I dragged my gaze off the mirror and toward the stairs, old wood groaning under both our weight as we climbed to the second floor, toward the room that had been mine before I was old enough to remember living in it. The house sat too quiet around us, the kind of quiet that had a texture to it, a held breath. I felt it before I could name it — the sense that we weren't alone up here, something lingering just past the edge of what either of us could see.

Orias went still beside me at the top of the stairs, and I knew he'd felt it too.

"Tell me that's just old wards settling," he said, voice dropped low. "Something one of the local witches did to hex the place when the old bastard inevitably pissed them off."

"It's not." I swallowed hard.

There was a shift in the air, faint and almost imperceptible, a ripple of magic that raised the hair on the back of my neck and dragged a low, wordless growl out of Orias beside me, the kind of sound that meant every soft, joking edge of him had gone somewhere else entirely.

We weren't the only ones who'd come back to the Hollow.

Something else was here. In our father's house, in the one place we'd both sworn we'd never willingly set foot in again.

And it had been waiting for us the whole time.

Chapter Six

Though I had spent my entire life in Autumn's Hollow, I had never once ventured beyond the treeline. Not really. I'd skirted the edge of the Whispering Pines as a kid, daring myself and my friends to take a few steps in before bolting back out, breathless and giddy on adrenaline. But I'd never gone deep. Never crossed the invisible line that separated the Hollow from whatever secrets sat buried in those woods.

Until now.

The cold, damp air pressed in around me as I stood at the forest's edge for the second time in twenty-four hours, staring into the shadows between the towering pines. The wind whistled soft through the branches, carrying that same familiar whisper — persistent, low, like a voice calling my name from somewhere just out of reach.

I'd told myself I wouldn't come back. Not after last night. Not after the shadow I'd seen slipping between the trees, the voice that had followed me home and refused to let go once I was there. I should have known better. But the pull had been too strong, tugging at me all night, keeping me awake with vivid, restless dreams of the forest and the twisted oak from my vision.

I hadn't even been able to settle Winnie, my orange tabby, on my lap without swearing I could hear my name buried somewhere in her purring.

I didn't want to spend the rest of my life like this. On edge. Wondering if something was broken in me. Wondering if I'd disappear too, the way my dad had.

I'd told Orias I was heading out to sort a delivery mix-up at the shop — extra flour that had come in wrong, a supplier issue that needed sorting before the morning bake. It wasn't even a full lie. There had been a delivery mix-up. I'd just used it to buy myself an hour he thought I was spending somewhere completely different from where I actually was.

I hated lying to him. Genuinely hated it, the sick little twist it put in my stomach every time I did it, because he'd never once given me a reason to. But I hadn't seen another way to get out here without him insisting on coming, or worse, insisting I didn't go at all. And some stubborn, reckless part of me needed to see this through myself.

Taking a breath, I stepped forward, my boots sinking into soft earth as I crossed the boundary between town and forest. The trees loomed overhead, branches swaying gently, casting long, jagged shadows across the ground. The deeper I went, the darker it got, the last of the daylight swallowed by the canopy despite it being barely past six in the morning.

The air here was cooler, thicker, like it was holding its breath around something. Every step echoed, the rustle of leaves under my boots the only sound in an otherwise silent forest. Even the birds had gone quiet, like they knew better than to make noise in a place like this.

I wasn't sure what I was looking for, or if I was looking for anything at all. All I knew was that the forest had been calling me in like a tide, and there was something here I needed to understand.

I pushed deeper, the path narrowing and going more overgrown the further I walked. The trees closed in overhead, branches knitting into an almost solid canopy, blotting out what little sky was left. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, curling around me like a breeze urging me forward.

"Amber," they called.

My name, carried on the wind like a secret meant only for me. I stopped, heart hammering. There it was again — the same voice from my dream, closer now, more solid. Like someone was whispering right beside me.

My breath caught as I glanced around, half expecting to see someone standing at my shoulder. The forest stayed empty. Shadows long and still.

"This is insane," I muttered under my breath. "You're acting like a fucking lunatic, Amber Halloway."

I should have turned back. Gone home, locked the door, stayed as far from that forest as I could get. Instead I took another step forward, curiosity winning out over every ounce of good sense I had left. The forest kept pulling, its magic wrapping around me like something with intent, shielding me from the rest of the world. I couldn't explain it. I just felt connected to it, like I was always meant to end up exactly here.

The path narrowed further, and I found myself stepping over fallen branches, ducking under low vines as I pushed through the thick underbrush. The whispers rose, almost overwhelming now, a chorus of voices all saying the same word.

And then I saw it.

The oak.