Page 4 of His Spellbound Mate

Chapter Three

Tamzyn

The early morning mist clung to the trees, curling around the dense forest like a living thing, shrouding Silver Ridge in an otherworldly veil. Tamzyn stood behind the counter of her small herbalist shop, the aromatic scent of dried herbs and freshly brewed tea mixing in the air, grounding her in the reality she had carved out for herself in this remote Alaskan town. The shop was her sanctuary, a place where she could blend in, become invisible. Here, she was just another face in the crowd—although with as small a town as it was, “crowd” was a bit of a misnomer. She was merely a woman with a quiet, unremarkable life.

Tamzyn had settled into her new life in Silver Ridge, perched on the edge of the wilderness where the land met the icy waters of the Gulf of Alaska, and the people who lived there were as tough and unyielding as the environment itself. It was the perfect place for someone like Tamzyn—someone who needed to disappear, to start over in a place where questions were rarely asked, and secrets were easily kept.

Her days were filled with the comforting routines of her herbalist shop, nestled among the rough-hewn buildings that lined the town’s main street. She had built a reputation for herself as a skilled healer, her knowledge of plants and remedies invaluable in a place where medical help was often miles away. The locals had come to trust her, to rely on her, and in return, she had found a semblance of peace—a fragile, carefully maintained peace that she had no intention of disrupting.

But peace, as she had learned, was a fleeting thing.

Tamzyn carefully measured out a handful of dried lavender, its familiar scent bringing a small measure of comfort. Her fingers worked automatically, muscles remembering the rhythm of this routine she had built. This life was a far cry from the one she had once known, filled with power and responsibility. That life was over now, banished with her from the coven, leaving her to fend for herself far away from the only home she had ever known.

The bell above the door jingled, startling Tamzyn from her thoughts. She looked up to see a frantic woman rush into the shop, her eyes wide with fear. The woman’s disheveled appearance—a mess of tangled hair, dirt-streaked clothes, and tear-stained cheeks—set off alarm bells in Tamzyn's mind. It took her a moment to recognize the woman as Mary Whitney, a frequent customer and someone who was more than an acquaintance, but not quite a friend. Mary and her son often came into the shop—Mary for more natural, holistic remedies and Jacob for the hard caramels she kept behind the counter.

“Tamzyn,” Mary gasped, her voice trembling. “You have to help me.”

Tamzyn’s heart skipped a beat. She had seen desperation like this before, back when she was still part of the coven, before everything had gone so horribly wrong. But here, in Silver Ridge, she was supposed to be safe, removed from such troubles.

She took a deep breath, calming herself before stepping around the counter. “What happened?” she asked gently, guiding Mary to a chair.

Mary’s hands shook as she clutched at Tamzyn’s arm, her grip tight. “My son Jacob,” she choked out. “He’s missing. He went into the woods before dawn and never came back. No one has seen him, and I—I don’t know what to do.”

Tamzyn felt the familiar tug of magic in her veins, the instinctive response to another’s pain and fear. She clenched her fists, suppressing the power that begged to be unleashed. She couldn’t afford to draw attention to herself. Not now. Not ever.

“Have you gone to the authorities?” she asked, trying to steer Mary toward a more mundane solution.

Mary nodded frantically. “Yes. The sheriff and his people have been out looking, but the woods are dangerous; he doesn’t want civilians out there, and he doesn’t have enough people to search properly. It’s been far too long for Jacob to be gone. Please, you have to help me. I heard you know these woods—better than most—that you can find things… people.”

Tamzyn’s breath hitched. Her reputation as an herbalist who could find rare plants had apparently led to whispers of other, more mysterious abilities. She cursed herself for not keeping an even lower profile.

“I can’t promise anything,” she said slowly, already feeling the weight of her decision. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

The woman burst into tears, clutching Tamzyn’s hands as though she were her last hope. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

Tamzyn gave her a tight smile and gently extracted her hands. “I’m not promising anything, and the sheriff is likely to be pissed at both of us.”

“I don’t care. Tell him I forced you…”

Squeezing Mary’s hand, Tamzyn said, “I don’t think he’ll believe that, but we won’t care what he believes. I’ll need some things before I go. Why don’t you head home? That way, both the sheriff and I will know where to bring Jacob.”

“Thank you,” said Mary before scurrying out the door, a bit calmer than she had been when she entered.

Tamzyn retreated to the back room, her mind racing. She should have turned Mary away. It would have been safer. But safe, she reminded herself, had never been high in her set of skills. There was something about Mary’s plea and the desperation in her eyes that had struck a chord deep within her. She couldn’t ignore it, even if it meant risking exposure.

Gathering a few supplies, Tamzyn hesitated at the door that led to the small courtyard behind her shop. Her gaze drifted to the locked chest hidden beneath a loose floorboard, where her magical tools lay buried and forgotten. Tools she had sworn never to use again. She pushed the thought away. She didn’t need those. Not yet.

The woods surrounding Silver Ridge were dense and wild, their thick canopies blotting out the sun. The further Tamzyn ventured, the darker it became, as if the forest itself was trying to swallow her whole. The air was cold and damp, carrying the scent of moss and decaying leaves, with an undertone of something darker, something that didn’t belong.

Tamzyn paused, her senses alert. The presence of magic was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there—a lingering residue that shouldn’t exist in these woods. She knelt, placing her hand on the earth, letting her awareness spread out in search of the source. The pulse of magic was weak, but it thrummed in response to her touch, sending a shiver up her spine.

She knew she shouldn’t do this. She should turn back now, return to her shop, and forget this ever happened. But the thought of the missing child, lost and alone in these woods, pushed her forward. She couldn’t turn her back on him, not when she had the power to help.

With a deep breath, Tamzyn allowed a sliver of her magic to slip free. The energy flowed through her, warm and familiar, filling the void she had kept locked away for so long. It was like greeting an old friend—one she had missed more than she would ever admit. The magic sought out the remnants of the spell, tracing its path like a hound on the scent.

It led her deeper into the woods, where the trees grew thicker, their trunks gnarled and twisted. The residue grew stronger, tinged with something foul, something wrong. This was no ordinary magic; it was dark, tainted by an evil she had not encountered in years. A sickening dread settled in the pit of her stomach as she realized what she was dealing with.

She stopped in a small clearing, the remnants of a circle scorched into the earth at her feet. The symbols etched into the ground were unfamiliar, but the malevolence they radiated was unmistakable. Tamzyn’s heart pounded in her chest as she recognized the remnants of a summoning ritual, one meant to call forth something from the other side.

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