The wind howled through the trees as nma sprinted toward the horizon, his boots kicking up frost-laden leaves in his wake. The forest ahead looked deceptively ordinary—just another stretch of ancient oaks and winding paths. But he knew better.
This was the Witch's Forest.
A place where technology humd beneath the bark of every tree, where the air itself tasted of herbs and whispered secrets. And sowhere beyond those towering trunks, his family waited.
A smile tugged at his lips. *Lunara. Annie. The others.* Ten months had been too long.
His montary distraction cost him.
A sharp *click* beneath his boot was the only warning.
nma's instincts flared. He twisted mid-stride just as a volley of arrows erupted from the underbrush, their tips glistening with sothing unnatural—sleep venom, maybe, or worse.
He dodged, weaving between them with the fluid grace of soone who'd spent months dancing with death under Zayne's watch.
But the trap wasn't done.
A high-pitched *whistle* pierced the air—a signal. Sowhere deep in the forest, alarms would be ringing.
*Nice upgrade,* nma thought, impressed despite himself. The witches had been busy.
He didn't have ti to dwell on it. Shadows shifted in the canopy above.
Two figures dropped from the branches like falling stars, knives flashing. nma's sword was in his hand before their feet hit the ground. Steel t steel in a shower of sparks as he parried both blades at once, the impact jarring his arms.
His scarf slipped loose, fluttering to the forest floor.
A beat of silence.
Then—
"nma?!"
The knives clattered to the ground as the witches—two young won with wildflower tattoos curling up their arms—lunged forward, crushing him in a hug so tight it nearly knocked the air from his lungs.
"You idiot! You could've *died*!" one scolded, her voice muffled against his shoulder.
"Missed you too, Lira," nma chuckled, ruffling her hair.
The other witch, Mara, pulled back, her eyes glistening. "We thought you'd gotten yourself killed out there. Or worse—*forgotten*us."
nma snorted. "Not a chance."
They fussed over him as they led him deeper into the forest, chattering about new traps, new spells, and how Lunara had nearly set the entire eastern glade on fire last month trying to "improve" a fla potion.
Then the trees parted, revealing the village.
It was just as he rembered—wooden huts with thatched roofs, strings of enchanted lanterns floating between them, the scent of simring stews and dried herbs thick in the air. And there, in the center of the training grounds, was *her*.
**Lunara.**
Her purple hair, longer now, whipped behind her like a banner. The winter air frosted her breath, and her boots left faintly glowing footprints in the snow—a side effect of her latest enchantnts, no doubt.
nma leaned against a post, watching. "Still overcompensating, I see."
She turned, and for a heartbeat, her cold mask cracked. Then she smirked. "Look who finally crawled back. And here I thought Zayne worked you to death."
nma grinned. "Nah. Just to the edge of it."
She strode over, eyeing him up and down. "You've grown. *Almost* look like a man now." Her finger flicked his chin. "Sha the facial hair didn't get the mo."
nma swatted her hand away. "Says the girl with more mustache than ."
Lunara's eyes narrowed. Then she swung.
nma ducked, laughing as her fist sailed over his head. "Still predictable!"
"And *you're* still insufferable," she snapped, but there was no real heat in it. "You better be ready for the tournant. I'm not going easy on you just because you've been gone."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
A cough interrupted them.
nma turned to see the three guardians—Sybil, Saphyra , and Sylvara—hovering near a storage hut, stacking vials of shimring liquids into crates. Beside them stood a stranger.
A *boy*.
Blond hair, blue eyes, a jawline sharp enough to cut stone. He had the build of a young warrior—broad-shouldered, lean-muscled—but no trace of a beard. Just smooth, almost *too* perfect skin.
nma's smile didn't waver, but sothing in his gut tightened. *New witch?*
Elara gestured. "nma, this is Vayne. He joined us a few months back."
Vayne stepped forward, extending a hand. His grip was firm, his smile polite. But his eyes—icy blue, unblinking—held a weight nma couldn't place.
"Heard a lot about you," Vayne said. His voice was smooth, practiced. "The human boy raised by witches. The one with *dark power*." A pause. "Hopefully not *too* dangerous."
The words hung in the air like a challenge.
nma kept his tone light. "Ten months of training fixed that problem."
Vayne's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I hope so. Wouldn't want to put the others at risk."
A beat of silence. Lunara's fingers twitched toward her pockets.
But Vayne laughed, clapping nma on the shoulder like they were old friends. "Just teasing! If the witches trust you, so do I."
nma forced a nod. "How'd you end up here?"
Vayne's expression darkened. "Just like all the witches finding different places to live, my old coven lived in the mountains. Hidden. We traded with a few humans—food for supplies. But hunters found us."
His fingers curled into fists. "They slaughtered most of us. I only escaped by killing one of them, stealing his armor."
nma's throat tightened. "I'm sorry."
Vayne shrugged, but the motion was stiff. "Fate led here. To *other* witches." His gaze flicked to Lunara. "To people who fight back."
Before nma could respond, Annie's voice rang out.
"nma! You're *finally* here!" She bounded over, her braids bouncing. "Festival prep's done! And—" She poked his arm. "Ooh, you *are* stronger. But are you stronger than *Lunara*?"
nma smirked. "Let's settle that at the festival."
Lunara rolled her eyes. "Try not to cry when I win."
As they bantered, nma caught Vayne watching him. Just for a second.
Then the boy turned away, helping the guardians with the potions.
But nma didn't miss the way Vayne's fingers lingered a little too long on a vial of sothing dark and swirling.
Or how, when he thought no one was looking, he smiled.
But he didn't say anything and got ready for the tournant.
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