Page 104 of Specters & Spotlights

Lark kept going, tripping over her own guilt.

She was talking fast now, spiraling. “It was in the last city! I tried that brush—with my hair on it? When you didn’t use it, I got desperate. I took your mugwort and rosemary. It was perfect. I thought… it would work.”

She wrung her hands, eyes wild.

“I cast the spell the night of the cast party. My plan was to activate it and then meet you there. But something went wrong.”

Lark’s voice cracked.

“When I spoke your name into the weave… something heard me. Something came through. I don’t know what it was—but it twisted the spell. Hijacked it. Ever since then, it’s been following me. Haunting me. Hurting me.”

She held out her arms, and Elise could see bruises—thin finger-shaped welts blooming beneath her sleeves.

“I tried to fix it. I tried everything. But I think it’s bound now. To me. Or maybe… to you.”

The air had gone cold around them. Graham was silent, jaw tight.

Elise was burning inside—anger at Lark’s betrayal, at the violation—but she swallowed it. Now wasn’t the time. There were bigger things coming.

Things with teeth.

Elise steadied her voice. “What happened tonight, Lark? Why did you call us here?”

Lark swallowed hard. “I tried to banish him.”

Elise blinked. “What?”

“I thought this would be the perfect spot,” Lark rushed on. “There’s a thin place here. A liminal fold. You’ve felt it, right?”

Elise’s stomach turned. The Whispering Wall. Of course.

She nodded once, tightly.

Lark’s words came faster now, like she had to get them out before they choked her. “I thought maybe, if I called him out… if I used the right protections, if I anchored the spell properly—I could push him back through.”

She shook her head, eyes shining. “But it didn’t work. I’m not strong enough. Or maybe I just don’t know enough. The usual banishment rites aren’t doing anything. He’s… different.”

Graham stood frozen, watching Lark like she might shatter.

“There’s more,” she said, voice breaking. “I think he has Ellen.”

The confirmation hit Elise like a punch to the ribs.

“What?”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Lark choked. “I didn’t know. But when I cast the love spell I… I was trying to move on. I thought if I focused on something new, if I anchored it right, I could break the pattern.”

She rubbed a hand over her face. “But I kept thinking about Ellen. About how we left things. About how I wanted to let her go. And now I don’t know if the spell took that as a sacrifice. A trade.”

Elise felt a cold shiver start at her spine.

“I don’t know if it was intent,” Lark whispered. “Or if it just… chose her. Because she was nearby. Or because she looked like me. Or you.”

That last part hung heavy in the air. Elise knew what she meant—the three of them, often mistaken for one another in the dim backstage lights. Same height, same silhouette.

Elise felt sick. She took a breath, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. “Lark… he’s been haunting me too.”

Lark looked up sharply.