Page 37 of A Touch of Madness

The air inside the Witch’s Guild crackles with energy, thick and potent like the charge before a storm. I stand in the center of the main chamber, my focus locked on the shimmering sigils glowing faintly on the stone floor. My breathing slows, syncing with the rhythm of the incantation, the words curling off my tongue like smoke.

“Aetheris vinculum, potentia mea fluo,” I murmur, my voice steady, resolute. The dagger in my hand glows faintly as I channel the magic through it, imagining the invisible threads of power latching onto the target in front of me—a straw effigy suspended in midair by Ravenna’s magic.

I raise the dagger and release the final syllable, thrusting the blade forward. Light explodes from its tip, golden tendrils wrapping tightly around the effigy. The figure jerks violently before freezing, held fast by the magical bindings I’ve summoned. My chest heaves, but the rush of power surges through me, exhilarating and electric.

“Well done,” Ravenna says, her voice calm but laced with approval. She circles me, her eyes sharp and calculating. “Your control has improved over the last week. No hesitation this time. You’re learning to command the magic rather than letting it command you.”

I glance at Cassandra, who stands off to the side with her arms crossed. Her expression is less reserved—there’s clear pride in her eyes. “You’re stronger than most witches would be at this point,” she adds. “I can’t attribute that solely to your bloodline, either. You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?”

“Every chance I get,” I reply, unable to hide the small smile tugging at my lips. It feels good to be recognized, to feel like I’m finally stepping into the potential I’ve been chasing since arriving at Blackthorne.

Ravenna waves a hand, and the effigy drops to the ground with a dull thud. “Again,” she instructs. “But this time, we’ll add a defensive layer. Bind the target, then shield yourself. You’ll need to be able to multitask in the field.”

I nod, gripping the dagger tightly. The sigils on the floor flare to life once more, and I dive back into the spellwork. The incantation flows more easily now, the words feeling like an extension of my will rather than something foreign. As the bindings tighten around the effigy, I picture a shimmering barrier forming around me, a protective bubble warding off any potential attacks.

Cassandra lets out a low whistle as the shield solidifies, a faint silver glow surrounding me. “Impressive,” she murmurs. “I’d hate to be on the receiving end of that.”

Ravenna watches me with a critical eye, her arms folded across her chest. “You’re getting there,” she says finally. “But remember, Sylvie—magic is as much about intention as it is about execution. Keep your focus sharp. Distractions can be deadly.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, wiping a bead of sweat from my temple. My muscles ache, but it’s a satisfying kind of exhaustion—the kind that comes from progress.

Ravenna steps closer, her voice dropping to a softer tone. “In a perfect world, we’d have an abundance of time to perform the incantation. In this world, so far from perfect, we don’t. I believe you’re ready for what’s coming,” she says. “But don’t let overconfidence blind you. Stay grounded, stay focused. And remember—you’re not alone in this fight.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Thank you,” I whisper.

* * *

After a long dayat the Guild, I sit at a corner table in Midnight Delight, the dim lighting casting flickering shadows across the walls. The air smells faintly of wine and cloves, mingling with the tang of blood. It’s quieter than usual tonight, the hum of conversation low and subdued. I tap my fingers against the table, my pulse quickening as I wait for Lucian to arrive.

When he finally steps through the door, my breath catches. He moves with his usual grace, his dark coat billowing slightly as he scans the room. His eyes find mine almost immediately, and something inside me settles. He crosses the room in a few long strides, his presence commanding yet familiar.

“Sylvie,” he says, his voice low and warm. “You’ve been busy today. I was surprised you didn’t want to just meet at home.”

I smile faintly, gesturing for him to sit. “I needed to see you.”

Lucian arches an elegant brow as he takes the seat across from me. “And why is that, love? Not that I’ll ever complain.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “There’s something I need from you,” I say, my voice steady despite the flutter in my chest. “Something important.”

His eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of concern passing over his features. “You know I’d do anything for you,” he says softly. “Just say the word.”

“I’m worried you’ll say no,” I tell him honestly.

“Never. Unless it puts you in danger of course,” he affirms, and that’s what I was afraid of.

I take a deep breath, my heart hammering against my ribs. I need to just tell him and get it over with. I’ve been thinking about it for days, and I want it. I’ve just been too shy to ask. “I want you to feed from me.”

The words hang in the air between us, heavy and unyielding. Lucian freezes, his expression shifting from surprise to something darker—something conflicted.

“I—” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Yes, I do,” I reply, holding his gaze. “You need to be at full strength for the ambush. You said it yourself—Solstice won’t hold back. You can’t afford to be anything less than your best. I want to be the one to help you strengthen yourself before we go in.”

He looks away, his jaw flexing and tightening as he looks around the room, more than likely trying to figure out how to let me down easily.

“It’s not that simple. Feeding from you... it’s dangerous. I could lose control. I could hurt you.”

“You won’t,” I say firmly. “I trust you, Lucian. I know you’d never hurt me.”

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