(Almira’s POV)
The night had been quiet. Too quiet.
Lysander had just brushed my knuckles with his, his voice low and warm, when I heard the shift in the air. It was subtle at first. A sudden chill. The woods around the private hot spring went still—no breeze, no crickets, no life.
Then came the snap.
A surge of magic ripped through the trees and cracked into the earth like a bolt from a storm. The water behind us erupted into steam, scalding and thick, just as Lysander grabbed my waist and pulled me down.
*Boom!*
The ground where we’d been seconds ago exploded. Fire licked at the edges of the moss-covered rocks.
“What the hell?” I hiss, rolling up to my knees. My eyes dart to the shadows moving fast between the trees—hooded figures, hands glowing with blood-red light.
Witches.
Ly
