Page 31 of Wedded Witch

The air is damp and stale, thick with the scent of earth and rot. The faint glow from outside barely penetrates the space, casting long shadows across the floor.

It’s small, barely more than a room, and mostly empty – except for the large stone slab in the centre, covered in dust and more faded symbols. I approach it cautiously, my heartbeat echoing in my ears.

There’s something familiar about this place. I can’t explain it, but it’s like I’ve been here before, even though I know that’s impossible.

I brush some of the dust away from the slab, revealing more of the strange carvings. They’re intricate, almost delicate, spiralling out from the centre in a pattern that reminds me of the scorched marks outside.

My fingers hover over the stone, and a sharp tingling sensation shoots up my arm the moment I touch it.

I jerk back, gasping. The dog lets out a low whimper, pacing nervously near the door.

“What the hell?” I whisper, staring at the slab. The tingling lingers, buzzing beneath my skin. There’s something here.

I reach into my bag, pulling out a small notebook where I’ve been keeping notes on everything I’ve learned about the curse. Flipping through the pages, I search for anything that might explain the symbols or the strange feeling in the air. But nothing I’ve found so far matches what’s in front of me.

My head throbs as I try to make sense of it all. There has to be a reason I was drawn here, to this town, to this…tomb? Sanctuary? I don’t even know what to call it.

The dog barks again, louder this time, startling me out of my thoughts. His ears are pinned back, and he’s staring at something just beyond the door.

I turn slowly, my blood running cold.

There’s a figure standing at the edge of the clearing, half-hidden in the shadows.

For a moment, I can’t move. I can barely breathe. The figure doesn’t move either, but its gaze is locked on me, heavy and unnerving. It’s too far away to make out any details, but there’s something unmistakably wrong about it.

The air around it seems to shimmer, like heat waves on pavement, distorting its shape.

I exit the tomb and take a step back from the shadows, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

“Come on, boy,” I whisper urgently to the dog, who’s already by my side, growling low in his throat.

We back away slowly, my eyes never leaving the figure. It still doesn’t move, but the oppressive energy in the clearing thickens, pushing against me, pressing in on all sides.

As soon as we reach the edge of the structure, I turn and sprint, the dog close on my heels. We tear through the overgrown path, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The branches scratch at my skin, and the air feels colder, sharper, as if something is chasing us, but I don’t dare look back.

Finally, we burst out of the woods, back into the ruined outskirts of Spells Hollow. My legs feel like jelly, but I keep moving, not stopping until the town square is in sight.

I double over, gasping for breath, the dog panting beside me.

The figure…the structure…it’s all wrong. This whole place iswrong.

“Let’s go, boy,” I mutter, my voice shaky. I glance back toward the woods, half-expecting to see the figure standing there, watching. But there’s nothing. “This isn’t what I’m looking for.”

Still, I can’t shake the feeling that something is coming for me. And I have no idea how to stop it.

KEL

I pacethe length of the barn, boots dragging through the dirt floor, the low light casting long, jittery shadows. My chest is tight, like I’ve been holding my breath since Sol got back from town. He’s standing near the door, arms crossed, staring at the ground like whatever he’s about to say is going to drag us all under.

Adria, Ri’s, sitting on an old crate, too quiet. His fingers tap a restless rhythm on his knee, but his eyes are sharp, watching Sol, waiting. It’s that kind of quiet that makes me uneasy – the kind that comes right before a storm.

I stop pacing, glaring at Sol. “Spit it out. What the hell happened in town?”

Sol lifts his head, his mouth set in a grim line. “It’s not good, Kel. I told you before, she’s different. She’s not like the others.”

That twist in my gut tightens. It’s been there ever since we met her, this gnawing uncertainty, but hearing Sol say it again? It’s worse this time.

“Different how?”

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