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One

THE WITCH

Asoft fragrance of lavender and pine wafted in the air. I inhaled deeply, a smile spreading along my face.

The scent was so familiar. I’d smelled it almost every day of my life. It was a comfort to me, soothing my agitated muscles from the restless sleep I’d been getting this week.

I reached for the yarrow root on the shelf above me without looking. I had made this elixir so many times I could do it blindfolded. When I added the yarrow to the cauldron, it turned the liquid a murky yellow. Steam rose from the contents, heating the air around me.

I sprinkled in a few salt crystals, then lifted my hand, spreading my fingers so the steam warmed my skin. Closing my eyes, I drew on my power. It hummed within me, rising to the surface. Always waiting.

Just before it spread to my fingertips, something in the air shifted. I stiffened as the sickening feeling swept over me. The air was colder, and I could no longer smell the potion. Instead, it smelled of oak and midnight.

And blood.

Oh no. Not now.

I started to tremble as my eyes opened.

I was lying alone in the forest, my hands covered in blood.

“No,” I whispered in horror.

I tried to rise, to bring myself out of the vision, but my surroundings didn’t change. Darkness pressed in on me. The scent of blood became stronger. It was all over me. My hands, my arms, my face. It clung to my hair and dripped onto the forest floor.

And I was completely naked. No clothes. Just my cold skin and the blood clinging to it.

“No!” I cried out. “No, please!” I crammed my eyes shut, willing myself to return. In the distance, a howl pierced the air. My body quivered from the intensity of it, and something inside me longed to burst free.

With a sharp gasp, I found myself back in the cabin, still standing over the cauldron. My hands were shaking, and my breathing was sharp and ragged. I stared at my hands, my eyes wide.

There was no blood. My hands were clean.

It’s not real, I chanted in my head. Not real, not real, not real. It’s just a hallucination.

But, real or not, these visions would not stop. They’d been happening for weeks now, first only in my dreams. Now, they were haunting me during the day as well.

“Enough,” I whispered. “Focus. You can do this.”

My insides still shook with unease as I flexed my fingers to summon my magic again. I gritted my teeth, waiting for the same vision to overtake me again.

But it didn’t. Energy crackled through my body, rising through my chest and toward my palm. Magic poured from my fingertips, and the elixir began to churn and bubble. The smell shifted to something sharper and more pungent.

“Try adding some sapphire basil this time,” said Gran from behind me.

“Storms,” I cursed, my eyes flying open. With a shake of my head, I muttered, “I know how to make the potion.” This tonic was meant to keep my magic more contained. Less volatile. I’d been drinking it every day for most of my life.

“I’m sure you do.” Gran’s deep, rich voice was tinted with amusement as she drew closer. Her familiar mossy scent filled my nose. “But I think it’s time we try enhancing the quality of your tonic.”

I frowned, thinking of what I’d read about sapphire basil. It was a rare herb that could only be harvested at a full moon. “For the visions?” A shiver rippled over me as that horrible icy feeling filled me once more, an echo of what I’d just experienced.

Gran grunted in acknowledgment as she approached the cauldron, her pale green eyes fixed on the churning contents. Her silver hair was swept into a long braid that trailed down her back. “Did you have the nightmare again last night?”

I swallowed and nodded. “Same as always.” I didn’t tell her about the one I’d just seen; I was too afraid to re-live it.

Besides, part of me knew it wouldn’t do any good. Neither Gran nor I knew how to stop them.

“The visions must be trying to tell you something,” Gran said thoughtfully. “If it happens this often, it’s not a coincidence.”