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THE MORNING SUN RADIATED a soft, golden brilliance over Emberwick Crossing, dappling the streets with patches of light and shadow. A gentle breeze carried the fragrance of blooming flowers and the distant chatter of sparrows perched on top of the Magical Archives Building—a grand edifice that towered above the quaint shops lining the main thoroughfare. Its spires reached for the sky like fingers of an ancient spell, grasping at the invisible magic that swirled in the air.
My stomach churned as I thought about Freya’s betrayal. Some friend she’d turned out to be. I’d trusted her and look where that had gotten me. Now I had to tiptoe around my own feelings like they were landmines.
“Can you believe Freya just ratted us out like that?” I said, my voice faint enough so only Evie could hear. “Brad and I were careful. But now the High Witch is pissed that I disobeyed her, all because she couldn’t keep her nose out of our business.”
Evie pushed a stray lock of jet-black hair from her forehead and sighed. “I know it’s tough, Sage. But Freya’s always been a stickler for the rules. Maybe she thought she was doing the right thing...even if it was the wrong thing for you.”
I scowled, my frustration boiling. “Well, her ‘right thing’ has made everything harder. Brad and I can’t even look at each other without fear of being watched now.” My gaze drifted to the ground, the angst of secrecy pushing down on me.
The thought of Brad made my chest ache. His crooked smile, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. Now I had to pretend those memories didn’t exist.
Stupid rules. Stupid laws. Who was the High Witch to dictate who I could love? Oh, yeah. My boss.
Evie tilted her chin up, her expression brimming with empathy. “Hey. Try not to worry so much.”
Nodding, I mustered a faint smile. It wasn’t much, but having Evie by my side made my troubles seem a little more bearable.
As we entered the Magical Archives Building, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The antique charm of the outer façade gave way to an interior that buzzed with arcane power. Warlock guards adorned in ceremonial robes stood vigilant beside sleek metallic detectors. Luminous runes pulsed along the walls, emitting an iridescent net of sensing spells designed to ward off any unwelcome intruders.
We approached the front desk.
“State your business,” Mr. Thatcher commanded in a stern voice.
Mr. Thatcher, the archivist, was a peculiar sight. His wiry frame was consumed by an oversized tweed suit that seemed from another era, his spectacles resting precariously on the bridge of his nose. With a bald head that shone under the overhead lights and a beard that appeared to be home to wayward paper clips, he peered at us over the rims of his glasses with an air of suspicion.
Great. Just what we needed—a human lie detector with a penchant for office supplies. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry as sandpaper.
“We need access to the historical accounts from ten years ago, please,” I said, trying to sound confident even with the fluster of nerves in my stomach.
“Accessing restricted files is not a matter to be taken lightly,” Mr. Thatcher replied, his inflection slow and deliberate. “May I inquire as to why such sensitive information is required by two junior witch members of our community?”
My palms grew clammy. This guy could give Ingrid a run for her money in the intimidating authority figure department.
“Research,” Evie interjected smoothly. “For a very important project directly from the High Witch herself.”
“Is that so?” The archivist stroked his beard, a skeptical glint in his eye. “And I suppose you have the necessary clearances? The paperwork? The approval codes?”
Crap. I hadn’t thought this far ahead. My thoughts sprinted, grasping for any plausible excuse. Why hadn’t I listened to Agatha and come up with a better plan?
“Of course,” I lied through my teeth, hoping he wouldn’t press further.
Evie shot me a quick glance, her expression unreadable.
“Very well,” he drawled, turning to his archaic computer. “But don’t think for a moment you can pull the wool over my eyes.”
My heart pounded like a jackhammer. If he saw through our ruse, we’d be toast faster than you could say “abracadabra.” What were we going to do now?
“Actually, we’re waiting on the final authorization,” Evie said before I could dig us into a deeper hole. “It should be here shortly.” She gave him a dazzling smile that even Ingrid would have been hard-pressed to resist.
“Very well. I shall await your documents,” Mr. Thatcher replied, barely concealing his doubt.
“Thank you, Mr. Thatcher,” I said, though my insides churned like a witch’s brew.
As soon as his attention returned to the piles of paperwork on his desk, Evie leaned closer and whispered, “Ready for some fun?”
“Always,” I murmured back, my expression betraying a hint of excitement amidst the anxiety.
“Follow my lead,” Evie whispered, a wicked glint in her eye that usually meant trouble. She fumbled in her pocket, nearly dropping the small vial twice before finally extracting it with a triumphant “Aha!”
Uncorking it with her teeth with a slight grimace, Evie began to chant under her breath. The incantation came out muffled and garbled, like she was trying to speak with a mouthful of marbles.
Suddenly, a comically large puff of neon pink smoke exploded outward with a POOF, enveloping Mr. Thatcher’s head entirely. As it cleared, revealing his now cotton-candy colored hair, dozens of tiny, glittering butterflies materialized, each one sporting a miniature top hat and monocle.
Oh, sweet cauldron of chaos. This was not part of the plan. My stomach did a somersault as I watched the scene unfold, torn between horror and a twisted sense of amusement.
Mr. Thatcher’s eyes bulged to cartoon proportions. He let out a high-pitched shriek that could’ve shattered glass and began a frantic, flailing dance. Arms windmilling, he swatted at the dapper insects, spinning in circles and tripping over his own feet.
I bit my lip to stifle a laugh. Poor guy looked like a deranged ballerina in a butterfly mosh pit. Concentrate, Sage. This disaster’s your ticket out of here.
One particularly bold butterfly landed on his nose. Mr. Thatcher went cross-eyed trying to focus on it before letting out a massive sneeze that flung him tumbling backward into a conveniently placed mud puddle with a spectacular SPLASH.
As he sat there covered in muck, hair still pink and surrounded by fancy butterflies, Mr. Thatcher let out a defeated sigh. A lone butterfly fluttered down, landing on his head.
Evie snorted, trying and failing to hold back her laughter. “Oops,” she managed between giggles. “I, uh, may have overshot that one a smidge. Must have mixed up my potions.”
“Get these—these things away from me!” Mr. Thatcher spluttered, his usual composure crumbling like an ancient ruin.
“Right away, sir!” Evie scrambled to help him, all the while giving me the subtlest of nods.
This was my chance. I slipped away, blood pumping with each step taken down the corridor towards the restricted area. The floorboards lurched beneath me in spite of my best efforts to tread lightly. Every whisper of sound made my skin prickle. Was it just echoes or someone coming?
My heart hammered against my ribs like it was trying to escape. Calm down, you idiot. Getting caught now would be worse than Agatha’s hairball incidents.
The dimly lit hallway stretched endlessly before me, shadows clinging to the edges like specters. Finally, I reached the imposing iron door, its surface etched with runes older than time itself. Swallowing hard, I extended a trembling hand and uttered the incantation to break the seal.
Nothing happened.
“Holly hellfire.” I frowned, feeling panic rise like a tide. I tried again, pouring more power into the spell until my fingers sparked with blue magic.
Still, the door remained unyielding and shut.
“Come on, Sage. You can do this.”
My palms were slick with sweat. If I couldn’t crack this door, I’d never live it down. Evie’s butterfly fiasco would be for nothing. No pressure or anything.
Gathering all my courage and magical prowess, I chanted a new spell for the third time, envisioning the door unlocking, the barrier dissipating—
With a muffled groan, the heavy iron yielded, swinging open to reveal the forbidden knowledge within. My breath caught in my throat. I was in.
Inside, the restricted room was a treasure trove of shadow and silence. Shelves lined with ancient tomes towered over me, their spines cracked and worn. Scrolls lay haphazardly strewn across tables, and artifacts with auras black as pitch sat encased in glass. The stale air smelled of dust and mysteries, the kind that could turn your life upside down—or end it.
I went straight for the manuscripts, scanning titles etched in languages I barely recognized. The fear of being discovered pulsed through me, but I shoved it aside. This was about my parents. About the truth.
“Come on, where are you?” My fingers traced over leather bindings and brittle paper, my gaze darting back and forth, searching desperately. Then, I found it—a stack of aged parchments tucked behind a row of ominous-looking grimoires. Their seals were grand, embossed with the insignia of the magical community’s elite, and faded ink crawled across the surface like spindly legs.
“This might be it.” My hand shook. I unfolded the top document, revealing the elegant script of officialdom—and a few ominous bloodstains smeared along the edges. Someone had tried hard to keep this hidden.
While I read the text, the words blurred, each sentence a punch to the gut. Corruption, blackmail, assassinations—all of it leading back to an order signed by a name I knew all too well. My throat tightened, anger boiling within me.
Why? Why did they have to die?
“Because they knew,” I whispered, the realization cold and heavy in my chest. “They knew too much.”
The sound of footfalls snapped me out of my grief-stricken trance. Frantic, I stuffed the documents into my bag and extinguished the orb of light hovering above me. I ducked behind a towering bookshelf.
The door creaked open.
“Everything looks clear here,” a guard said, his declaration resounding in the stillness.
“Check again,” another insisted. “You know the High Witch.”
“Right.”
My heart was thundering in my ears, pounding so hard I feared they’d hear it, or I’d break a rib. They were close now, their shadows slithering across the floor just inches away.
Inhale. Exhale. Don’t make a sound. Don’t—
“Hey!” one guard called out suddenly. “Did you see this?” He held up something small and shiny—my locket had fallen off when I pulled out the documents.
“Probably some archivist’s trinket,” the other guard guessed, disinterested. “Put it in the Lost and Found, and let’s move on.”
“Sure thing.”
The guards left the room.
The stiffness in my body dissipated when I heard them receding. When silence returned, I allowed myself one more shaky breath. Then I slipped out from my hiding place. Holly hell. I’d lost my locket. I’d have to retrieve it from the Lost and Found...but how without giving away that I’d been in the forbidden, restricted area?
I wasn’t sure, but I had to try.
With the damning evidence secure, I slipped out the door, unnoticed, unseen. The locket wasn’t just any trinket—it was my connection to Mom and Dad. Losing it felt like losing them all over again.
My stomach churned. What if I never found it? The thought of their faces fading from my memory made my chest tighten. I had to get it back, no matter the cost.
The hallway stretched before me, empty and imposing. I had to get to the lost and found, but how?
A shadow moved at the far end of the corridor. I froze.
“Sage?” Brad appeared with a confused look on his handsome face. “What are you doing here?”
Crap. I forced a smile. “Brad! Hey, I was just... uh...”
Of course it had to be Brad. The universe clearly had it out for me today.
He raised an eyebrow. “Sneaking around in the restricted area?”
“No! Well, maybe. Look, I lost something important.”
Brad’s eyes narrowed. “In the restricted section?”
My throat tightened. “No. I can explain.”
Except I couldn’t. Not without digging myself into an even deeper hole. Why couldn’t I have Evie’s potion skills right now? Turning those guards into cute, forgetful puppies sounded pretty appealing.
“Can you?” He crossed his arms. “Because last I checked that area was off-limits to everyone but the High Witch.”
I bit my lip. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is with you.” Brad sighed. “What did you lose?”
“My locket. The one from my parents.”
His expression softened. “Sage...”
A pang of guilt hit me. Brad knew how much that locket meant to me. He’d been there when I got it, after all. Now I was dragging him into my mess.
“I know, I know. It was stupid. But I need it back. The problem is, they might realize I was in the restricted room if I go to the Lost and Found to claim it.”
Brad ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, that might be an issue.”
“Then what do I do?” My voice cracked.
He hesitated, then said, “I might have an idea. But you’re not gonna like it.”
My heart leapt. Brad’s ideas were usually either brilliant or disastrous. Given my luck today, I was betting on the latter. Still, I was desperate enough to try anything.
“Spill it, Brad. What’s this brilliant plan of yours?”
He grimaced. “We stage a break-in.”
My jaw dropped. “Are you insane?”
“Hear me out. We create a distraction, sneak into the lost and found, and grab your locket. They’ll never know it was you.”
I paced. “That’s not terrible. Two distractions in one day? First Evie and now you.”
He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
I frowned. “But won’t they suspect us? We’re not exactly criminal masterminds.”
Brad grinned. “Speak for yourself. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”
“Hey! I’ll have you know I once convinced Professor Elderwood his office was haunted.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s because you hid in his filing cabinet and made spooky noises.”
“And it worked, didn’t it?”
I blew out a long breath. This was risky, but what choice did I have? That locket was all I had left of my parents. “Fine. What’s the plan?”
Brad’s face lit up. “First, we need a diversion. Something big enough to draw everyone’s attention.”
“Like what? Setting off magical fireworks in the courtyard?”
“Too obvious. We need something subtler. We’re trying to avoid suspicion, not cause more trouble.”
I tapped my chin, an idea sparking. “What if we enchant all the books in the library to fly around?”
Brad smiled. “That’s brilliant! Disorder without destruction.”
“Plus, it’ll keep the librarians busy for hours.”
We high-fived, grinning like idiots. I groaned. This plan might be getting worse by the second.
“Okay, let’s go.”
Brad winked. “We got this.”
My stomach trembled. I wasn’t sure if it was nerves or Brad’s stupid charm.
We crept through the corridor, our feet echoing in the cavernous halls. Brad led us down another narrow corridor I’d never noticed before.
We rounded a corner and froze. A burly guard stood outside the lost and found, looking bored out of his mind.
“Crap,” I hissed. “Now what?”
Brad nudged me. “Distract him.”
“Me? Why me?”
“Because you’re cute and he’s straight.”
I glared at him. “Fine. But you owe me.”
Taking a deep breath, I sauntered up to the guard, channeling my inner femme fatale. “Excuse me, sir? I seem to be lost.”
The guard’s eyes snapped to me, suddenly alert. “This area’s off-limits, miss.”
I twirled a lock of hair around my finger. “Oh, I know. But I was wondering if you could help me find the, um, bathroom?”
His brow furrowed. “It’s back by the front entrance.”
“Really? That’s not what I heard.” I leaned in close, lowering my voice. “I was told there are some very...interesting books over here.”
The guard’s face flushed. From the corner of my eye, I saw Brad slip into the Lost and Found.
“I-I’m not sure what you mean,” the guard stammered.
I batted my eyelashes. “Oh, you know. The kind of books that make even experienced warlocks blush.”
The guard jerked at his collar. “Miss, I think you should leave.”
“Really? I mean, we’re just getting to know each other...”
Brad appeared beside me, grinning. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.”
I feigned surprise. “Oh! I must have gotten turned around. Silly me.”
We hurried away, leaving the flustered guard behind. Once we were out of earshot, we burst into laughter.
“Did you see his face?” I giggled.
Brad held up my locket, triumphant. “Mission accomplished.”
My heart soared. I snatched the locket, clutching it to my chest. The familiar weight of it settled around my neck, a piece of me restored.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Brad’s cocky grin softened. “Anytime, Sage. I’ll see you around.”
He took off and I sighed. The dangerous truth of my parents’ death was mine now, and nothing would stop me from exposing it. Not even the High Witch herself.
Shimmering magic appeared beside me and Evie materialized in an impressive show of magic.
“Don’t leave without me,” she said with a grin.
“Let’s do it, then.”
Evie and I pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the Magical Archives Building, stepping out into the bright sunshine of Emberwick Crossing. The air felt lighter, but an uneasy feeling still pressed on my chest. Birds chirped in the trees lining the cobblestone streets, their songs almost mocking the turmoil inside me.
“That was intense.” Evie’s gaze scanned my face, as if searching for any sign of what I’d found.
“Yeah,” I said, kicking a loose pebble down the sidewalk. “I found something, Evie. About my parents.”
“Tell me everything,” she urged, hooking her arm through mine as we walked past the quaint shops and cafes.
“Documents. Old, faded parchments with official seals—and blood stains.” I shuddered. “They were involved in uncovering some serious corruption within the magical community’s leadership. And it got them killed.”
“Corruption? Like what?” Evie’s hazel stare widened, reflecting both curiosity and concern.
“Bribery, blackmail, maybe even murder. They knew too much about the start of the supernatural uprising years ago, and someone ordered their deaths to keep it all under wraps.” My fingers clenched into fists at my sides. “Why didn’t the High Witch tell me? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Maybe they were trying to protect you,” Evie said softly. “But now you know, and we can do something about it.”
“Yeah, but where do we start?” I asked, feeling overwhelmed.
“I’m not sure,” she replied.
“Hey, guys.” Freya Weissdorn stood there, nervously fidgeting with the hem of her preppy blazer. Her blue stare darted between us, lined with regret.
“Freya,” I said, my tone flat. Memories of her betrayal flooded back, how she’d reported Brad and me to Ingrid, tearing apart our relationship.
“Can we talk?” she asked.
“Talk?” Evie snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “After what you did?”
“Please,” Freya implored. “I’m really sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing, following orders. I didn’t realize how much it would hurt you.”
Evie scoffed. “You ruined lives because you couldn’t think for yourself.”
“Evie, take down a notch.” I laid a hand on her arm. Then I turned to Freya. “Why now? Why apologize now?”
“Because I see the damage I’ve done,” she said, her voice breaking. “And I hate myself for it. I miss our friendship, Sage.”
“It’s not that simple,” I replied, struggling to keep my emotions in check. “You can’t just undo what’s been done.”
“I know,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “But I want to try. I want to make things right.”
“Making things right involves more than just words,” Evie retorted. “Actions speak louder.”
“Let me prove it,” Freya pleaded. “Give me a chance.”
“How?” I asked, genuinely curious but still wary.
“By helping you,” she said, wringing her hands. “With whatever you’re dealing with. Please, let me help.”
“She might be useful,” Evie grudgingly admitted, though her glare remained icy.
“Fine.” I sighed. “But one misstep, and we’re done. Understand?”
“Understood.” Freya nodded vigorously, relief washing over her features.
“Good,” Evie said sharply. “But don’t think for a second that you’ve earned our trust.”
Freya nodded, her head lowering and her gaze dropping to the ground. Before I could say anything else, something caught my eye across the street.
“It’s Councilman Voss,” I said, more to myself than anyone else.
He stood tall and imposing, draped in ebony robes. His chiseled face was a mask of calm, yet his blue gaze bore into me with an intensity that made my body tremble. He was known for his impeccable fashion, but today, there was something sinister about the way his robes billowed out in the breeze.
“What’s he doing here?” Freya asked.
“Nothing good,” I guessed. “There are rumors of his involvement with the supernatural uprising.”
“Are you sure?” Evie asked.
I nodded. “Yes.”
When I moved toward him, I glared at the man, and every muscle in my body tensed. And as soon as I reached the other side of the street, he vanished, like smoke dissipating into thin air.
“Where did he go?” Evie’s eyes darted around in confusion.
“Just disappeared,” I said, trying to suppress the mounting dread in my chest.
“That’s not possible,” Freya murmured, her hands trembling.
“With him, anything is possible,” I replied, staring at the empty spot where he had stood moments before.
“Do you think he knows?” Evie asked quietly.
“About what we found? Maybe,” I said, unable to halt the unsettling feeling gnawing at me. “We need to be careful. Very careful. Let’s get out of here.”
“Right behind you,” Evie responded, her usual confidence faltering just a bit.
As we walked away from the Archives, the sun continued to shine brightly, but the road ahead felt shadowed by uncertainty. Yet, amidst the lingering dread, a small glimmer of hope glistened. Perhaps we could uncover the truth and set things right.