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Besides the city, there’s no sign of life. I turn again, and movement over the ridge catches my attention.

A woman with a big floppy hat and a walking stick comes marching down an invisible path toward me. Her gaze lands on me from a far distance away, although she doesn’t seem surprised.

“Astra Somnium,” she calls. “Yes?”

I flinch.

“Yes,” she mutters, more to herself than me. “Come.”

She heads off in a new direction, and I have no choice but to follow. Well, I have a choice. I could stay here and die of dehydration or get lost and eaten by a mountain lion. Wouldn’t that be a nasty surprise?

I pick myself up and follow the best I can. I slip and skid my way down a rocky path, almost wiping out a time or two. After a few minutes of silence, the woman glances back.

“I’m Beatrice,” she introduces. “I believe you’ve been looking for me.”

And that’s that.

My nerves make me jittery. I’m so tired of being tired and sore and afraid. I follow the witch down the side of the mountain and try not to pass out. Or throw up.

She’s somewhere between my mother’s age and mine. Her blonde hair is long and wavy, loose around her shoulders, although the hat hides most of it and shades her face.

Eventually, we make it to a little cottage perched on the side of the mountain. She hops up the steps, a spring in her gait, and I hobble after her. If I knew I was in for a hike, I would’ve put on better shoes.

She leads me down a narrow hall and into a small kitchen. There’s not a lot of space to maneuver with how she’s filled it. The counters are covered in supplies. There’s a round wooden table in the center, with a tight space to walk around it.

“Sit,” she orders. She places a water bottle on the table.

Without waiting for me, she takes one of the two chairs. I drag out the one opposite her, sinking into it slowly. The place feels familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.

“Your Mark is beautiful,” she says suddenly, leaning forward. She braces her forearms on the table, gaze fixed on my neck. “I’ve never seen such a gorgeous thing.”

My face heats, and I try not to raise my hand to cover it. I’ve been hiding for so long, sometimes it’s easy to forget that covens look at Marks to determine power. It’s an old tradition, one my mother insisted didn’t carry much weight anymore. Any witch of true power could hide her Mark or manipulate how people see it.

“Were you searching for me?” she asks. She nudges the water bottle closer to me.

I accept it and drink half of the cold water in long gulps before I consider her question. “That depends on who you are.”

Her brown eyes seem to blacken. The whole room dims as power rolls off her body. My mouth dries, even with the water I just drank, and I shrink back.

“I practice dark magic, Astra Dreamstone. Some call me a blood witch, a covenless monster. What do you see?”

I clear my throat. “I just see a woman who helped me down off the mountain.”

Her smile completely erases the darkness that just seemed to be peering out at me from inside her. A switch flips. I squint at her and I can’t find a trace of it. Even though I just witnessed it.

I shiver.

“I didn’t want to leave a sister stranded. Please, Astra, make yourself comfortable. You look… flushed.”

More like flustered. “I don’t know how I got here. I don’t know a lot of things.”

I unscrew the bottle’s cap again and take a long swallow. I just need to get it over with and tell her the truth. She can accept or reject it from there.

But if she rejects it… or me, then I’m back to square one.

“You have strong magic, although it’s heavily burnt out,” she says. “I could sense it even before you arrived.”

I’m silent.