smell it brewing. It smelled like blood and fire. “I’ll be gone soon enough,” the lady Rebecca assured them as they walked back to the cottage. Her silk petticoat rustled, and she was lovely to look at. She’d brought death with her, as the enchanted often do, yet she was so captivating that Maria found herself charmed by her all over again.

There were those in the county known to practice the Nameless Art, spells and rituals handed down through the generations by cunning folk who knew more than most. These women understood the mysterious nature of medicine and love

Adrie

Hannah knew full well that you do not choose a familiar, it chooses you, bonding with you in a way no other creature can.

This was true magic, the making and unmaking of the world with paper and ink.

Abracadabra, I create as I speak, taken from the even earlier Aramaic chant, Avra kadavra, It will be created in my words.

she stood in the brilliant light she sometimes found herself yearning for the dark green of the forest where ferns turned black in the frost.

a master at the Nameless Art.

She knew how to walk in the shadows so she wouldn’t shine in the darkness. No one looked at her twice.