Book One – Chapter 5

The witching hour wove its final threads, the dark veil of Teharun thinning. Midnight, attuned to the nuances of the raging energy currents, suddenly straightened, her sleek body tense with anticipation. Yves mirrored her tension, fingers clad in gloves ready for swift response. Her heightened senses detected what eluded him. He reacted with her, observed her. He understood instantly — it had returned.

The Vicha. The hideous thing that had trailed Yves and Midnight since they crossed the Bahatu, the Whispering Moors. The insidious echo of their ill-fated encounter with the coven that had settled in these haunted realms. The curse.

Without a moment’s hesitation, they ascended the narrow stairs, Yves trailing Midnight with his pouch of ground poltin already at hand. Tossing the powdered sagen roots generously, Yves sketched a warding semi-circle around the lighthouse entrance before he threw his weight against the creaking door. The storm outside raged, winds and waves colliding with the lighthouse like thousands of specters demanding entrance. Yves forced the door open without magic. It yielded slightly, enough for the storm’s fury to thrust its way in. Yves, his body soaked within seconds, made no move to shield himself. The witching hour restrained him from employing shard shields to repel the weather onslaught. Amidst the downpour, he couldn’t help but rue the timing — of course, it chose now to catch up with them.

Midnight needed to make sure. She ventured outside, crouching low, her claws gripping into the rocky ground, her body pressed tightly against the lighthouse. She remained frozen in her posture as the wind and rain battered against her, fur swirling in the tempest. Yves lingered in the doorway, holding on to the frame for dear life. There was no point completing the wardening circle from the outside, as the winds would sweep the poltin right out of his hand. He strained to utilise his second sight. Yet, all that he could capture was the harsh panorama of the coastal battleground, where the storm obliterated the boundary between sea and land. His compromised eyesight, coupled with the storm’s interference with the magical currents, rendered him useless. Where his second sight long faltered, Midnight could spot the curse several kilometres away. Despite the howling wind, turbulent waves, and Teharun’s enveloping darkness, she found its presence.