Book One – Chapter 5

Outside, the storm’s ferocity paralleled the urgency of their departure. The winds enveloped him, reaching, clawing, rising, howling. Within seconds, he was thoroughly drenched. The chaos matched the turmoil within Yves. Even he could now see the Vicha through second sight, a creeping obscurity against the backdrop of the night, sprawled across the distant storm-torn energies.

It had come this much closer in just a few minutes. He saw no witch and understood that neither did Midnight. That did not mean that they were safe. It just meant that if a witch was there, she was powerful enough to cross the Northlands and hide her presence.

The dark witch moon had just begun melting back into the horizon. It would take another six minutes for the witching hour to pass. Every act of magic beneath Teharun’s domain held devastating consequences for the wizarding race; a truth Yves and Midnight could not afford to respect. They could not wait. With the narrow passage between the mainland and the lighthouse promontory now erased and overtaken by raging waves, Yves needed to conjure a bridge of shards. It was forbidden. The individual’s defiance against the prohibition of magic during witching hour condemned generations of wizards, but Yves faced a more immediate threat. If a witch was trailing the curse, it would lead her right to the lighthouse. If she fed it to make it grow and speed up just at the right moment, it would block off their escape.

Fighting against the storm’s fury, Yves pressed toward the edge of the rocky promontory, knowing that Midnight would follow. They rarely talked when travelling. There was no need to share questions like Are you ready?, or insignificant pleasantries like Be careful, they will attack as soon as I begin, or even personal philosophies such as Fuck this weather and I hate everything about this, let’s just go back inside. Most of the time, they understood each other without words. Also, with the current storm, Yves’ voice would hardly travel.