Page 61 of Board Games and Broomsticks

It can’t be that simple, she thought, chewing on her bottom lip. Can it?

It was the wildest, most reckless plan Nyssa had ever considered, but if it worked …

‘I may have an idea,’ she said. And then, as her grandmother had done for her in this very same living room so many years before, Nyssa told the story of the creature of the lake.

They gathered the townsfolk of Nighthaven in the tavern.

By the time they’d finalized their plan, a thick, roiling fog had settled over the town, the same kind that had surrounded Morven during their confrontation in the woods. Nyssa knew it immediately for what it was: a reminder of his ultimatum. A noose around her neck.

‘Thank you all for coming,’ she said. Elowen, Liora and Alaric stood either side of her, while the rest of the townsfolk were huddled around tables or standing in whatever space was left. There was a heavy hum of tension in the air, and Mr Leafton’s forehead was slick with sweat.

‘Is this about the fog?’ he asked, eyes darting to the drawn curtains. ‘It’s an omen, isn’t it? A … a curse?’

Panicked whispers rippled through the crowd, and Nyssa held up her hand, her voice loud and clear as she tried to maintain control. ‘No, it isn’t a curse. But … it is an omen, of sorts. Someone has come to Nighthaven intent on doing it harm. I have a plan to stop him,’ she added, before anyone could panic too much, ‘but it’s a dangerous one, and in order to pull it off, I need to know you’re all somewhere safe.’

If things went badly, Nyssa had no doubt Morven would immediately launch an attack on the town. She and her friends had decided it would be safer to have them all in one place, where they could combine their collective strengths to protect themselves.

‘No matter what happens outside, we all must remain in here,’ Alaric said. ‘We shouldn’t need to fight, but if we do, I will be in charge. Only those who volunteer to join me on the offensive will be fighting; the rest of you shall remain in here.’

‘I’ve hung protection charms around the tavern doors and windows,’ Nyssa said, pointing to the small windchimes and crystals, ‘and Liora and Elowen will also remain here to provide extra protection. I promise, they’ll keep you safe.’

‘And … what about you?’ Torin, huddled next to his aunt, asked. ‘Will you be safe?’

Nyssa fixed a small smile on her face, one she hoped disguised her growing panic. ‘I’ll be fine. Now, I have to go. I’ll see you all once it’s over.’

Alaric squeezed her shoulder. Liora gave her a bright, watery smile and a hug so tight it made it hard to breathe. Gwen gave her a brief kiss on the cheek and a whispered good luck.

And then Elowen stood before her, chin raised, eyes shining with tears Nyssa knew the elf wouldn’t let fall. Elowen pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to her lips. ‘Promise me you’ll come home to us?’

Nyssa’s throat burned, and when she finally found her voice again, she hoped harder than she ever had that her vow wouldn’t be broken.

‘I promise.’

The creatures from Familiars watched Nyssa as she flew to the spring where she’d last faced Morven.

They didn’t attack. Didn’t even move. They simply sat in various locations throughout town, silent and watchful, as the fog grew thicker around them with each passing hour. Again, Morven’s threat was clear: bring me the grimoire on time, or the creatures will attack.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t get the chance to give the order. She’d set off an hour before her time was up, knowing Morven would be waiting for her. The weight of her ancestral grimoire felt heavier than usual in her satchel, as if the book itself was rebelling against being taken from its home. They’d discussed leaving it at the cottage, but knowing Morven would be more likely to fall into her trap if she had it on her, Nyssa had decided to bring it along.

She just hoped it wasn’t a huge mistake.

The fog grew thicker the closer she got to the spring, and yet it parted for Nyssa as she flew, creating a direct path to the warlock awaiting her. Morven stood in the centre of the grove, where the discarded candles from the failed ritual remained. It had been less than twenty-four hours since Nyssa had last seen him, and in that time, the effects of the magics he’d stolen had gotten worse. His once vibrant, smooth skin was tinged with grey, and his impeccably styled hair had gone from slightly messed up to waves of tangled curls that clung to his jaw. Nyssa had never been interested in Morven romantically, but she’d always thought him unfairly handsome. Now, he looked … drained. As if the magic itself were eating him from the inside out.

She’d be lying if she said the sight didn’t break something in her. If she said that even now, she’d been holding on to the slightest hope there was a way to bring back the friend she’d once known. But when Nyssa landed, Morven’s eyes, wild and hungry, did not fix on her. They went immediately to the satchel. To the grimoire nestled safely inside.

‘I knew you’d make the right choice,’ he said, the smile twisting his lips almost animal-like. ‘Let’s get this over with, shall we?’

‘Let’s.’

Nyssa reached into her satchel, her fingers brushing against the leather of the grimoire. It seemed to resist her as she tried to pull it free, its weight growing heavier with every attempt. Trust me, she pleaded. I won’t let him have you.

The grimoire’s weight remained ridiculously enhanced for half a breath longer before Nyssa felt it give in. She pulled it free with a relieved sigh, and when Morven’s eyes lit up with hunger, she knew she had him.

He took a step towards her, the magic at his fingertips crackling as he outstretched a slightly trembling hand. Nyssa took a small, careful step backwards, her stomach twisting at the hateful look he gave her in return. ‘Do not play games with me, Hawthorne. Give me the grimoire.’

‘You can have it,’ she said, ‘but I want two things in return.’

Morven’s eyes flashed. ‘You are not in a position to bargain here.’