Dark Witch Sneak Peek (Chapters 1-2 and Prologue)

PROLOGUE

3 Weeks Earlier

Death clung to my skin like bitter smoke.

It smelled of dirt, decaying leaves, and despair, the odor so potent that I couldn’t escape it. Everywhere I turned, the stench followed me, growing stronger with each passing second.

Desperate to breathe in anything other than that acrid scent, I started to run. My bare feet slapped against the wet asphalt, carrying me faster and faster until I was all out sprinting.

Hurry, hurry, hurry, I urged myself—despite knowing that I couldn’t outrun it.

This was only a dream. A nightmare. One that I’d endured countless times before.

I still tried to flee from it, still tried to hide, even though I wasn’t death’s target in this scenario. I knew exactly who death wanted, and I couldn’t bear seeing it take her again.

And so I ran. Not toward her but away—not that it would do any good. Death’s presence would continue to cling to me until it claimed its victim. Only then would I be released from this nightmare. From this hellish recurring dream that always ended the same way.

BOOM!

The earsplitting sound came with a blinding flash of light. Startled and disorientated, I stumbled. The feeling of falling finally jerked me awake, and I instinctively flung out my hands. With a grunt, I landed on the road in an inglorious heap, my palms and knees taking the brunt of the impact.

As my scraped flesh lit up in pain, my senses sharpened, bringing me fully back to reality. It was nighttime, and I was outside in my pajamas during a raging thunderstorm. Blinking the rain from my eyes, I looked around to see where my nightmare had taken me. When I spotted Blackrose Manor’s familiar Victorian-style turrets jutting into the night sky, relief filled me. I was still on Mayweather property, thank the ancestors. 

Another fork of lightning lit up the stormy night, followed by a rumbling boom. My heart promptly leapt into my throat. Scrambling to my feet, I prepared to make a mad dash toward the house, but a whiff of something pungent froze me in place.

Dirt. Decaying leaves. Despair.

The scents of death still clung to me.

Fear shivered up my spine, and I spun around, certain I’d find her there.

When a slight figure in a white robe greeted me, her long hair plastered to her skull, I nearly jumped out of my skin. For a split second, I thought the impossible had happened. That an undead spirit had manifested into human form for the sole purpose of haunting me.

A name sprang to my tongue—her name—but before I could utter it, the robed figure spoke in a crisp British accent, “Oh, darling, another nightmare?”

As the concerned voice of my grandmother washed over me, I expelled the fear in a sharp exhale. “It’s okay, Gran. You really didn’t need to come out here.”

Lightning forked through the raging sky again, making her irises almost appear white. In actuality, they were the palest of blues, a striking color she’d passed down to her son and granddaughter. I’d inherited her pale skin too but not her whitish-blonde hair. Mine was jet black like my mother’s, except when light directly hit it. Then, the wavy tresses became a deep midnight purple.

“Nonsense,” Gran said, stepping forward in her sopping wet robe to grasp one of my hands and turn it over. Another flash of lightning illuminated the bloody scrapes on my palm, and she clucked her tongue sympathetically. “It’s been months since you last sleepwalked. I thought you were getting better.”

I inwardly cringed when I heard the faint disappointment in her tone. 

Studying my palm for another moment, she dropped it before saying, “Come. Let’s get out of this dreadful storm and into dry clothing. I’ll make you some honeyed Sano tea with a sleeping tincture to help soothe your restless spirit.”

All too ready to leave this nightmare behind, I followed after her as she turned to head back inside. But I only made it a few steps before the smell of decaying leaves hit me again. My heart started to pound, and before I could think better of it, I was turning away from the house and following that godawful scent. 

“Winter, what are you doing?” Gran called after me, but I was too busy sniffing to answer her. 

A bone-deep intuition drove me onward, and I ignored the thunderstorm in my need to find the source of that smell. It grew stronger with each step, beckoning me forward despite my trepidation. Maybe what I was smelling was an actual body. Maybe someone had died and was rotting in the ditch beside our private drive. I hoped for it. Prayed for it. I didn’t care how crass or morbid that made me sound. Discovering a body in the ditch was far better than the alternative.

But as the smell became suffocating, there was no dead body in sight. All I could find was . . .

With a frown, I stopped in front of our mailbox.

“Winter Snow, what on earth?” Gran questioned, arriving beside me just as I grasped the mailbox handle and pulled it down.

The second I spotted the black envelope inside addressed to me, her voice and the world around me muted. A cold foreboding crept up my spine, and that feeling of despair grew tenfold. Darkness edged my vision, and my hands began to shake.

Whatever was in that envelope would change my life—and I doubted it would be for the better. Everything in me recoiled from it, but before I could slam the mailbox shut, a muted voice said, “It’s calling to you, darling. Open it.”

Blinking rapidly, I pulled my gaze from the envelope to glance at my grandmother. Instead of trepidation, anticipation twinkled in her bright eyes. I flinched as another flash of lightning and crack of thunder reported through the sky, torn between curiosity and fleeing for my life. 

Open me, the envelope seemed to whisper, muting the world around me once more. All on their own, my eyes went back to it, drawn to the foreboding mystery like a moth to a flame. When I hesitated, a sensation like cold fingers wrapped around my wrist, urging my hand upward and into the mailbox. I quickly yanked my hand back, but it was too late.

The envelope was tightly gripped in my trembling fingers.

Open. OPEN, the disembodied voice continued to prod me.    

I glanced at Gran again, but her gaze was glued to the envelope with a fervor that sent another chill up my spine. Knowing I had no choice but to open it, I slid a nail beneath the silver wax seal and broke it. The second I exposed the letter within, the rain stopped pounding on my head. A purple light edged in shadows flared into existence before me, and a metallic scent bit at my nose, announcing the presence of magic.     

My grandmother might be in her seventies, but her power hadn’t dimmed in the slightest. With a quick flick of her wrist, she’d managed to conjure a shielding spell around us and a bright undulating orb that hovered eerily in the air.

Still shaking from the chilling sense of foreboding, I gingerly grasped the letter and pulled it out. As I unfolded it and began to read, I stopped breathing, knowing in just one sentence who the letter was from.

Dear Ms. Mayweather, 

Congratulations on your admission to Heartstone Academy. 

Before I could read more, Gran cackled with glee and sang, “Praise be to our illustrious ancestors!”

Numb with shock, I didn’t react when she threw her bony arms around me and squeezed, clearly elated by the news of my acceptance.

“I’m so happy for you, Winter,” she continued, pulling back to beam up at me. “After all that we’ve been through this past decade, our luck is finally changing.”

I stared down at her, too dumbstruck to respond. She didn’t seem to notice, grabbing the letter from my limp hands to reread it with a Cheshire Cat grin.

“Heartstone Academy, can you believe it?” she gushed, more animated than I’d seen her in a long time. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d finally sent in your application?”

“I, um . . .” I stammered, still struggling to form words. “Surprise?”

“Oh, Winter, this is the best news I’ve had in years. I had my doubts, but I shouldn’t have. You’re a Mayweather, so of course the school would accept you. No other bloodline compares to ours, and fate is finally giving you the chance to prove it.”

I opened my mouth again, needing to tell her the truth. But when one of her tears plopped onto the letter, I swallowed my confession. She was so proud of me, so proud of the granddaughter who could drag our family name out of obscurity. Against all odds, the most prestigious college in the world for witches and warlocks had accepted a Mayweather. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and maybe Gran was right. 

Maybe fate was finally shining her face on us. 

This was my chance. My moment. I could change everything. Everything.

The scent of death chose that moment to invade my senses again, and I could have sworn I heard a voice on the wind. Her voice. Whispering a single word, an accusation that turned my insides to ice.

Murderer.

That one word immediately brought me back to reality, to the realization that I was the last witch on earth who should be attending Heartstone Academy.

I took in my grandmother’s proud expression for another beat, then glanced down at the acceptance letter once more.

Whatever my decision, I knew one thing with absolute certainty . . .   

I’d never sent in my application.

CHAPTER ONE   

Present Day

“Is this your idea of revenge?” I asked the twenty-year-old young woman in the mirror, noting that her skin looked extra pale today. 

“Like the first snowfall of winter,” Mom used to always say.

Personally, I thought “ghostly” was a better description for my appearance. Much more fitting, especially considering I was talking to my reflection as if an undead spirit would possess it and answer back.

When nothing of the sort happened, I sighed and resumed applying my lipstick. The dark red color made my skin look even whiter, but it also gave my features the edge they desperately needed. Combined with the black smokey eyeliner framing my nearly colorless eyes, my face went from wide-eyed innocence to “Don’t mess with me.”

I finished applying the lipstick and paused again to scrutinize my reflection. She stared back at me unblinking, her expression cold and . . . haunted.

“I didn’t do it, you know,” I told her, dropping the lipstick on my vanity. “I don’t know how Heartstone got my application, but I swear I never sent it. If it wasn’t for my family, I wouldn’t even be considering this.”

Silence.

I sighed again, my nerves growing with each uttered word. This was a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake. Probably the worst decision I’d ever made—one of the top five, anyway. But no amount of guilt-tripping myself was going to get me out of this.

I’d made a choice and there was no backing out now. The Mayweather Coven—what was left of it—needed saving, and I was the only one who could do it.

If I didn’t die first. 

Ever since my acceptance letter had mysteriously arrived in our mailbox three weeks ago, I’d been plagued by an endless string of what-ifs. What if I’d unknowingly sent out my application during one of my sleepwalking incidents? What if my acceptance was a mistake and they kicked me out the second I arrived? Even worse, what if this was simply a sadistic joke meant to mock my family? 

And, worst of all, what if I failed epically and came back home in a body bag?

That last what-if plagued me the most, especially since it was a real possibility. Heartstone wasn’t like the other magical academies scattered throughout the world. The school had opened only two years ago, its sole purpose to birth the next generation of community leaders. Anyone who survived all four years earned a seat on the newly-formed council. 

The Conclave of Magic was meant to replace the elders whose positions had remained empty for the past decade. Ever since they’d been excommunicated, our entire community had been without leaders. As a result, our powerful position in the supernatural world had diminished. What had once been a collective whole was now divided, the hundreds of covens around the world isolated from each other and directionless. Change was desperately needed, and so Heartstone Academy had been born.

The second I’d learned of the elite college, I’d started to draft my application letter. There were only three criteria for admission: You must come from a powerful bloodline. Check. Have mastered your magic. Check. And be prepared to face death. Check.

Deadly magical trials? Cutthroat students all bent on proving themselves worthy of being our next leaders?

No problem.

I was a Mayweather. Facing impossible odds was in my blood.   

But I’d filled out that application as an eighteen-year-old naively determined to fix my broken world. Little did I know that it would only break more a few months later, that all of my resolve would vanish like smoke in the face of unthinkable tragedy.

And so I’d stuffed the application in a drawer and forgotten about it, resigned to live out my days in obscurity.

If only that acceptance letter hadn’t come. If only that deep sense of family duty hadn’t gripped me once more.

“Winter, are you ready? You’re going to be late!”

As my grandmother’s words filtered up the stairs, a million nervous butterflies burst alive in my stomach. Certain I was going to be sick, I jumped up from my vanity stool and rushed into the ensuite bathroom. Grabbing my hair, I pulled the black mass to the side right before dry-heaving over the toilet. Nothing came up. Probably because I hadn’t eaten breakfast this morning—or dinner the night before.

“Winnie, Gran wants you downstairs!” a new voice yelled through my bedroom door, punctuated by a few pounding knocks.

“Coming,” I called. Pausing another few seconds to make sure I didn’t throw up, I straightened and turned toward the sink to study my ashen reflection in the mirror for the final time. “Please say you understand,” I whispered to her, holding my breath as I waited, prayed, for a response.

I just needed a sign. One tiny little sign that I shouldn’t do this, and I wouldn’t.

Silence.

Swallowing my disappointment, I turned away and headed for the bedroom door. The second I opened it, a fluffy white furball scampered inside and leapt onto my bed.

“Really, Pearl?” I grumbled at my grandmother’s cat familiar. “You could at least wait until after I’m gone.”

The Persian blinked her yellow-green eyes at me, then slowly circled a few times before curling into a ball in the middle of my bed. I glared at her and she stared back, her flat face devoid of expression.

Rolling my eyes, I left the devious feline to her devices, knowing this was a battle I wouldn’t win. She went where she pleased and when she pleased, just like a regular cat. Even though she knew how much I hated finding her fur all over my stuff, none of my glares or threats fazed her.

When I hit the stairs, my ten-year-old brother raced from his room to join me, speaking a mile a minute, “Can I have your phone while you’re gone? Please, Winnie? Just so I can text my friends.”

“No,” I immediately told him, frowning a little before adding, “And what friends? You don’t have any.”

“Yes, I do,” Wyatt argued, annoyance edging his tone.

“Where? I’ve never seen them.”

“Just because they’re online doesn’t mean they’re not real,” he said, his ire increasing. “I game with them every day, and we talk about all sorts of stuff.”

I gave him a sharp look. “Normal stuff, I hope.” 

He returned my look with one that every little brother mastered. “I’m not stupid, Winnie. We only talk about human things.”

“Good, but you’re still not getting my phone. Those online friends could actually be fifty-year-old pedophiles.”

His freckles shifted as he scrunched up his nose. “What’s a pedophile?”

“Winter Snow, don’t scare your brother,” Gran chastised, her pale eyes disapproving as she watched us descend the stairs.

“Well, he needs to know that not everyone online is who they say they are.”

“Yes, but he’s only ten. Let him have his fun.”

I arched a brow as we reached the bottom and joined her in the bright foyer, the morning sun beaming through the glass panes of the front door. “So I should give him my phone?”

She harumphed. “Hell, no. He already spends way too much time online.” 

A faint smile twitched my lips.

“Ah, Gran, come on,” Wyatt pleaded, rounding his big puppy-brown eyes at her. “I’m gonna be all alone once Winter’s gone. I need someone to talk to.”

“You can talk to me.”

Wyatt huffed and crossed his arms over his thin chest, looking so much like Dad with that stubborn set to his jaw and white-blond hair that emotion tightened my throat. Without warning, I turned and dragged him into a hug.

“Hey!” he protested, struggling to break free, but I only hugged him harder.

“I’m gonna miss you, Wy-Fi,” I murmured, and he finally relented, wrapping his little chicken arms around me for a quick squeeze.

“I’ll miss you too, Winnie,” he mumbled back, then started to squirm until I reluctantly let him go. “But I still don’t understand why you’re going to school. I thought you liked your job at the diner.”

One glance at Gran, and I cleared my throat to carefully say, “I did like my job at the diner, but it’s in the human world.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. It’s just . . . We’re witches, Wyatt, not human. Going to this school could help restore our place in the community again. You know how important it is to have friends.”

His blond brows pulled together in a troubled frown. “But they don’t like us. What if they’re mean to you or try to hurt you?”

I opened my mouth to reassure him, but my nerves suddenly returned with a vengeance, robbing me of speech.

“Then she’ll remind them who they’re dealing with,” Gran spoke for me, a sharp glint entering her pale eyes. “Don’t you worry, Wyatt. Your sister might have been denied the opportunity to hone her magic at one of our community academies in the past, but she’s received the very best education possible from your parents and me over the years. Winter is more than capable of defending herself.”

Worry still lined my brother’s face despite Gran’s confidence, and I couldn’t blame him. He’d only been six months old when everything had fallen apart. The witch community meant nothing to him but turmoil and grief.

“Now finish saying goodbye, then go get ready for your lessons,” Gran continued to tell him. “You have a potions test today, and don’t forget our agreement. If you fail another test, you lose video game privileges for a week.”

“Ah, Gran,” Wyatt complained but knew better than to argue. Gran might look frail, but she was a queen lioness at heart who expected to be obeyed. I tousled my brother’s hair, and he ducked away, waving at me with a quick “Bye, Winnie” before scampering out of sight.

Staring after him, I inhaled a deep breath before facing my grandmother again. The second our eyes locked, I knew her discerning gaze saw far more than I wanted it to. Instead of questioning me, she scanned my appearance with a cluck of approval.

“It does my heart good to see a Mayweather in academy uniform once more,” she said, taking in my crisp white shirt, black blazer, and black-and-silver pleated skirt. A black ribbon tie, black knee-high socks, and shiny dress shoes completed the outfit. Raising a hand to reverently touch the silver-stitched H and A crest on my blazer, she whispered, “It suits you perfectly.”

I swallowed hard, feeling the full weight of my decision with those words. But, despite my many reservations, I had to do this. I had to do it for them. For my family. We’d been outcasts for far too long, so long that my brother had never even met others of his own kind. So long that he was acting more and more human every day. 

His curiosity of the outside world was getting harder to suppress, but it wasn’t the supernatural world he was curious about. In his eyes, the supernatural world destroyed his family, so why would he want to be a part of it? Humans were what intrigued him, and although Gran had forbidden us both from attending human schools, Wyatt continued to emulate them—especially American humans, to Gran’s chagrin. 

He’d become so immersed in acting like one that he still hadn’t manifested a single spark of magic. He was only ten, but I knew Gran was worried. The Mayweathers were known for manifesting early. If his magic didn’t appear soon, it might be a sign. A sign that he was . . .

I didn’t finish the thought, afraid I’d make it true if I did.

Something cold settled around my neck, snapping me from my thoughts. “What’s this?” I asked, glancing down.

I lifted the silver chain Gran had clasped around my neck to better see the pendant attached. It was a pentacle—a five-pointed upright star within a circle—a symbol that all witches knew well. Nestled in its center was a black stone. At first, I thought it was obsidian, but upon closer inspection . . .

A sharp gasp left me, and I looked up at Gran in disbelief. “Is this what I think it is?”

“The rarest gemstone in the world, so rare that humans aren’t even aware of it?” Her lips curved into an impish grin. “Yes, darling. It’s a heartstone.”

I blinked. “But . . . but how? Witches haven’t been able to find more heartstone in decades.”

She shrugged. “They haven’t, but I’ve been secretly saving this little stone for a special occasion, and that time has finally come.”

“Oh, Gran,” I whispered, my throat tightening with emotion. “I . . . I’m truly honored, but I can’t accept something so precious.”

“You are precious, more precious than any stone,” she adamantly replied, her expression sobering. “You were destined to carry it, especially considering where you’re going. This amulet will protect you when I cannot, acting both as a shield and an amplifier to compensate for the absence of your coven. Never take it off.”

“But first years aren’t allowed to bring any personal items with them to school, including jewelry,” I reminded her.

She waved my words away. “Nonsense. All the other families and covens will be protecting their scholars in a similar fashion. It’s the witches’ way.” Reaching up to fist the amulet, she closed her eyes and chanted, “Shadows mine, aid my spell. Cloak this necklace, shield it well.”

The necklace faded, then completely disappeared. 

“There,” Gran said, dropping the now invisible pendant. “The invisibility spell won’t last forever, but if it wears off, repeat those words to keep it hidden.”

I nodded, oddly comforted by the feel of the cool gemstone against my skin—even if I couldn’t see it. “Guess we should go then,” I said, hating how thin my voice sounded.

Gran solemnly nodded. “Yes, it’s time.”   

Taking a step back, she raised her hands and, with a confident sweep of her arms, conjured a human-sized portal between us. The edges shimmered dark violet, and inside the mysterious depths of its center was a void of pitch-black nothingness, swirling and grasping, threatening to swallow whole anyone who trespassed. The Ether, we called the endless space between the earthly plane and the celestial. Only witches and their familiars could enter this realm, but not all who did came back out whole.

And some didn’t come back out at all.

I wasn’t afraid of entering it, though, especially with Gran as my guide. She’d been traveling by portal for decades and had never once lost her way.  

Sweeping a final glance over Blackrose Manor—praying this wouldn’t be the last time I saw my childhood home—I stepped around the portal and accepted my grandmother’s outstretched hand. Together, we entered the black hole and were immediately transported to another dimension. Wind snatched at my hair, throwing it into my face as the world sped by impossibly fast. Gran firmed her grip on my hand, the only anchor keeping me from the Ether’s clutches. Seconds later, we exited the screaming maelstrom, our feet landing on solid ground. Sand, more specifically.

Pushing my windswept hair back, I immediately noticed the time change. The sky was a dull gray, the sun still struggling to breach the horizon. I was used to seeing mountains, the rural town of Plymouth where I grew up sitting at the foot of one, but these mountains were far bigger. Instead of being covered in trees, they jutted up into the sky like giant rock behemoths, jagged and dusted in white. The air was also thinner and chillier than back home. We were in the mountains, not at their base.

“Where are we?” I asked, turning in a circle to take in the gorgeous panoramic view. We were standing on the sandy beach of a crystal clear lake, a glacier-fed river nearby steadily pouring into it. A thick border of pine trees surrounded the lake, not a single road or man-made building in sight. Birds chirped in the trees, but other than that and the gurgling water, I couldn’t hear any signs of life.

“Sorry, darling, but I’m not allowed to tell you,” Gran replied, letting go of my hand to tuck a few strands of white hair back into her otherwise pristine bun. “As your guardian, I was given permission to drop you off at this location, but all first years must face their initiation into Heartstone alone and without prior guidance. You’ll pass through the magical wards as soon as you leave the beach, and that’s all I can share. What happens after that is completely up to you.”

The reminder sank like a rock in the pit of my stomach, but I nodded anyway, valiantly trying not to show how nervous I was.

This wasn’t a typical college drop-off experience. Heartstone was an elite college for young and powerful witches and warlocks. Only the best were admitted, but I had to prove that I was the best. It made sense that I’d have to prove my worth from day one. Otherwise, the school wouldn’t have a reputation for being cutthroat and dangerous.

Not to mention deadly. Every year, students died at Hearstone.

A foreboding chill suddenly crept over the peaceful landscape. The wind picked up, and I caught a whiff of something, a scent that didn’t belong in the fresh mountain air. 

Despair. 

Cold fingers of dread raced up my spine, and I couldn’t suppress a shiver.

No doubt seeing the fear bleeding into my eyes, Gran abruptly reached up and grabbed my face, pulling it down to hers before saying, “You’re a Mayweather. Show them all what you’re made of. Prove that you belong. Reinstate your place. Do it for yourself, but also do it for me and your brother. Do it for your parents and for your aunt Clarice, rest her soul.”

“Yes, Gran,” I replied, feeling my heart begin to race.

“Don’t bow to anyone. You’re royalty; they’ve just forgotten. Remind them that Mayweathers used to sit on the throne. It’s your birthright to rule, and once you’ve conquered this challenge before you, Mayweathers will rise again.”

“Yes, Gran.”

Her sharp nails dug into my cheeks, her eyes boring holes into mine as if she could etch her next words into my brain. “Do whatever it takes to survive, but you must stay away from Thorne Hudson at all costs. Considering his family’s position, I can only assume they had something to do with your acceptance to Heartstone. The Hudsons want nothing more than to make a mockery of you, to see you fail, to see you dead. This is your chance to prove just how resilient Mayweathers are. You deserve to be at that school, Winter. Don’t let them destroy the last hope we have of reinstating our position.”

At the mention of his name, my heart practically pounded out of my chest.

“Yes, Gran,” I whispered, my voice reed thin. “I love you.”

“Oh, my darling, I love you too,” she murmured back, lifting up to kiss my cheek. “May the spirits of our ancestors guide and protect you on this journey. Now go. I’ve already lingered too long. The others will get a head start.”

With that, she let go of me and turned to form another portal. As it sprang into existence and she stepped forward to enter it, I almost cried out for her to take me with. Instead, I viciously bit my tongue, forcing my feet to stay where they were.

Gran threw one last glance at me over her shoulder, her gaze brimming with love and pride. I smiled at her, though it was forced. She smiled back, then swept inside her portal and vanished from view.

The portal disappeared, leaving me utterly alone.

The moment she was gone, I immediately felt small and insignificant, completely inept to the task before me. I was just one witch, a disgraced one in a great big world that wanted to crush me like a bug. How had I convinced myself that I could do this? I had no clue what awaited me behind those invisible magical wards. I could fail in an instant, proving to the entire witch community that the Mayweather name truly was dead.

So many what-ifs. So many doubts and fears.

It was only by the power of my grandmother’s parting words that I managed to push aside my fear and move. One step, then two, my shoes sank into the soft sand as I made my way across the beach. When only one step remained between the beach’s end and the unknown, I lifted my chin and plowed ahead, bracing myself for whatever awaited me.

The second my shoes hit grass, the world around me changed. A deep gloom plunged the morning into night, and the temperature dropped by several degrees.

Before my eyes could adjust to the sudden darkness, a bloodcurdling scream lit up the night. 

CHAPTER TWO

Yup, it was official. I was going to die.

The scream wasn’t mine, but it might as well have been.

A few sporadic flashes of light illuminated the eerie darkness, revealing what was hidden inside.

Chaos.

I stared in rising horror as a young woman around my age conjured a cerulean orb of magic, only to be knocked off her feet a second later by a . . .

I blinked. Blinked again.

The forest of pine trees was alive. Every time a ball of magic lit up the night, the trees reacted, viciously attacking the magic wielder.

Another terrified scream punctuated the air, followed by a terrible snapping noise as roots shot from the ground and wrapped around the girl. She screamed again, only for a root to wind around her head and muffle the sound.

“Run!” a male voice shouted from nearby, and I glanced over to see him blast a tree with fire. As the orange ball exploded against its side and started licking up the bark, an inhuman noise came from its depths, sounding way too much like an agonized wail. Within seconds, the entire tree was up in flames, burning so hot that heat gusted across my face.

The stench of burning wood hit me, along with a scent combination that immediately turned my blood to ice.

Dirt. Decaying leaves. Despair. 

The tree was dying.

“RUN!” the Fire Elemental bellowed again, nearly colliding with me as he charged past.

The foreboding presence of death kept me locked in place, all while my survival instincts fired off on all cylinders. Run, hide, fight. Run, hide, fight. A part of me wanted to return to the beach, to the safe haven a mere step behind me. It would be easy, so easy to hide, to resume my pitiful life of obscurity. Another part wanted to save the dying tree and make sure the girl trapped by roots was okay.

I did neither of those things, knowing that this was a test. A trial. This was my initiation, and if I made the wrong choices, I would fail.

As I hesitated, my grandmother’s words came back to me. “Do whatever it takes to survive, Winter.” 

Whatever it takes. Whatever it takes.

I reached up to grasp the invisible amulet around my neck, knowing what she’d want me to do.

Run.

Listening, I burst into action, using the flames from the dying tree to follow after the Fire Elemental. Every few yards, he’d lob a fiery orb at the trees nearby, and they’d screech in fury. The more he did it, the angrier they became, until—

Crack. Groan. Snap.

One of the trees suddenly fell, narrowly missing me as it careened like an arrow toward the fleeing warlock. With a thunderous boom, it hit the ground, and I lost sight of the warlock. The impact shook the forest floor, so violently that I pitched forward, sprawling on my hands and knees. Roots and rocks dug into my flesh, but I barely felt the pain, the world around me abruptly muting as I sensed death nearby.

I stopped breathing, my spine going rigid when I felt its phantom touch seconds later, coating my skin in goosebumps. But it wasn’t here for me. I started to tremble anyway, knowing that I was helpless, powerless against it. Whenever death came, it never left empty-handed.

Frozen with fear, I stayed where I was for several long moments. Only when the fires burned out and plunged the forest into darkness once more, only when the stench of death finally faded away, did I try to move again. My hearing returned, but the world was still hushed, as if Mother Nature herself had paused to observe what had just happened.

Please only be the tree, please only be the tree, I silently chanted to myself, unwilling to accept the worst case scenario. 

Picking myself up, I followed the fallen tree’s length, moving slowly so I wouldn’t trip over a root.

Please, please, please.

I could barely see a few steps ahead of me but didn’t dare conjure an orb, my intuition warning me that the trees would attack me if I did. They’d probably been enchanted to react to magic, so I forced myself to endure the suffocating darkness—darkness that had once felt like a friend to me but not for a very long time. Now, it felt like a malevolent stalker lying in wait.

When I reached the spot where I’d last seen the warlock, I swallowed hard and inched closer to the fallen tree. 

Please.

One step. Two. The toe of my shoe struck something. Not a root or even the tree, but something that felt a lot like a limb. Like a body. Like—

“Dear ancestors.” I whirled around, clamping a hand over my mouth as bile surged up my throat. 

It was the Fire Elemental. The tree had crushed him.

Even without visual confirmation, I knew he was dead. This wasn’t the first time I’d dealt with the aftermath of death’s claim. The hopeless despair sank deep into my bones, sucking the very life out of me. Weakness stole through my body, and I waited for the feeling to ease its grip on me, torn by what to do next. I should keep running, but . . . but someone was dead. Even though I knew students died at Heartstone Academy every year, seeing it firsthand was a shock to my system.

He didn’t even get the chance to prove himself. Didn’t even get to step inside the hallowed halls of the prestigious school he’d wanted so badly to attend.

Just like that, his life had been snuffed out. All those years of training, of preparing, of hoping. For what? For this?

Doubt assailed me again, even greater than before. I couldn’t do this. The stakes were too high. Gran would understand if I backed out, if I returned home where it was safe. Right?

Before I’d even finished the thought, I knew the answer. I was a Mayweather. A Mayweather. Mayweathers never backed down, and they most certainly never hid from a challenge. We might have been forced out of our community ten years ago, but Gran and even my parents had never stopped fighting to prove their worth. The Mayweather bloodline was legendary in the witch community, going back decades, centuries. That reputation was sacred, even more so now that it was hanging on by a thread.

I could restore that reputation. I had to restore it. It was my solemn duty as a Mayweather to protect the family name. Nothing else was more important.

Including my life.

With that reminder burning in my gut once more, I shoved aside my doubts and forced myself to move again. Not toward the fallen warlock, but away, knowing that the longer it took me to reach the school, the more I would have to prove. Portaling wasn’t an option since I had no clue where the campus actually was. I could levitate to at least acquire a bird’s eye view of the terrain, but doing so would expend a lot of energy—not to mention the trees might not approve.

Walking it was.

As I left the warlock behind, I focused on covering as much ground as I could without attracting attention. I’d spent the majority of the past decade in obscurity, so that shouldn’t be a problem. I was used to blending in with humans, to living in the shadows. I was a shadow, slipping through the trees without detection. I might not be buddy-buddy with my magical affinity anymore, but it cloaked me all the same, allowing me to access its dark world.

With each passing step, the night’s foreboding chill grew, the wind moaning through the trees like a melancholy ghost. Intuition tugged me northeast—not a heightened sense of direction but something deeper. A knowing. An awakening. One that often felt sinister in nature.

This way, it breathed, urging me onward with cold prodding fingers. This way to your destiny.

Lured by the telltale rush of flowing water, I decided to follow the river upstream, walking along its rocky edge and picking up speed despite the sharp incline.

This wasn’t so bad. As long as I didn’t use magic, I could— 

I was suddenly yanked into the freezing river, gasping in shock only for my mouth to fill with water. As my head went under, I instinctively pushed toward the surface, but something shoved me down deeper. I slammed into the riverbed, unable to see up from down through the dark current. 

Sharp rocks dug into my flesh, ripping my new uniform and skin to shreds. My lungs screamed for air, and I flailed my limbs, desperate to reach the surface. When I couldn’t find it, something dark—darker than the churning waters trying to drown me—stirred within my veins.

Use me, it said, the words a soft hiss of command. When I ignored it, still grasping and clawing to reach the surface, the darkness hissed more urgently, Use me!

I stubbornly clenched my jaw, refusing to give in, refusing to drown. I was stronger than this. I was a Mayweather.

USE ME.

No! I internally shouted at the darkness, deciding then and there that drowning wasn’t such a bad way to die after all. All I had to do was swallow, and it would be over. No more responsibility. No more guilt. No more pain. I would be free of it all.

At peace.

A word I didn’t have the right to utter. To feel. 

What was I thinking? I couldn’t die this way. I didn’t deserve a peaceful watery grave.

Use meeeee.

It was the sense of despair, the chill creeping into my very soul that finally weakened my resolve. Death was near, seeking out a new target. 

Only this time, his target was me.

With the threat of my impending doom so close, my survival instincts kicked into overdrive. Before I could stop it, the darkness in my veins surged up, ready to strike out at anything and everything. Fear gripped me, not because death was breathing down my neck, but because I was about to expose the part of me I’d carefully locked away. The part of me that had a mind of its own, that was dangerous.

A scream built in my head, one of terror, of helplessness.

I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t control it.

Nooooo! I wailed at the darkness, struggling to push it back down. But it was relentless, a leviathan fighting to break free of its cage. It had been so long, too long since I’d let it out. There was too much pent-up energy, and I was too rusty. Too scared. My magic was about to explode, and there was nothing, nothing I could do to stop it.

Just as the pain from keeping it contained grew unbearable, just as my body started to convulse from the lack of oxygen, the pressure keeping me under the water vanished. I raised my head and immediately breached the surface, sucking in a frantic grasp. A mixture of air and water speared down my throat, and I succumbed to a violent fit of coughing. 

The fresh pain in my chest was the perfect distraction, though, and I nearly cried out in relief when I felt my magic pause. I quickly locked it up, shoving it down, down, down so it couldn’t escape again.

That was close. Too close.

As I continued to drag in lifegiving air, my body shook uncontrollably, hyped up on fear and adrenaline from the near disastrous event. Although I could no longer sense death, my fear remained. It had never left empty-handed before. I’d robbed it. Cheated it out of its victim. Did death ever seek revenge? I didn’t know and didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out.

Shivering and no-doubt looking like a half-drowned muskrat, I struggled against the current toward the riverbank. As I did, I spotted movement on shore. A girl, a witch, was following the river upstream like I’d been doing. Her back was to me, so I only caught a glimpse of her long swinging braid. Right before she faded into the gloom, she glanced over her shoulder at me still struggling in the river. Her skin was darker than mine by a few shades, but the bronze hue was light enough for me to see her lips curve into a wicked grin.

Why, that conniving little devil.

Her smile confirmed what I’d already begun to suspect. She had done this to me. Based on how the water had held me under, she must be a Water Elemental. It had been stupid of me to think that a spell was the only thing I’d be up against in this trial. Heartstone Academy was cutthroat but so were the students. We were each other’s competition, after all. The more students that failed earlier on, the less competition we’d have to face later.

This girl obviously wasn’t afraid to eliminate her competition, and if I was going to survive this world, I’d need to adopt that same bloodthirsty attitude. For a moment, I’d almost forgotten, almost convinced myself that the other students and I were fighting the same battle and not each other. That delusional moment had nearly been my undoing, and I couldn’t make that mistake again.

These students would sooner kill me than help me, especially when they found out who I was. I had to protect myself, to be smart, or I was going to wind up as Heartstone’s next casualty.

By the time I made it onto solid ground again, the Water Elemental was long gone. So much for thinking I’d be the first student to complete the trial. At this rate, I’d end up last. Well, almost last. I couldn’t forget the girl trapped in tree roots and the crushed warlock. 

More aware of my deadly surroundings than ever, I ignored my fresh injuries and took off along the riverbank again, determined to make up the time I’d just lost. My socks squelched in my waterlogged shoes with each step, my hair and clothing stiffening with the growing chill. I could easily utter a spell that would have me dry in seconds, but one glance at the trees nearby, and I clamped my shivering lips shut.

The Water Elemental had risked using her magic, but something inside me, some instinct warned me not to reveal mine. I’d rather arrive at the school last than not at all.

At least an hour went by without spotting a single soul. My intuition sharpened the farther I went, letting me know that I was getting closer to my destination, but the weather had taken a turn for the worse. The higher I climbed into the mountains, the colder the temperature became, the harsh winds tearing at my hair, clothing, and exposed skin. Each step became harder to take, my ragged breaths gusting from me in white plumes as I struggled to keep climbing. It was only when the snow began to fall at an alarming rate that I truly started to worry.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumbled unintelligibly, my jaw practically frozen shut. If it wasn’t for my little dip in the river, I could handle the snowstorm. I was used to them, to the freezing temperatures and harsh winds from my winters spent in New Hampshire. 

But this? This was unbearable. I couldn’t survive this. Not with my damp clothing and hair sucking up all my body heat.

I had to risk using my magic.

That or portal back home with my dignity in shreds. The latter wasn’t an option, so magic it was.    

The spell I chose was considered simple magic, the energy use minimal. Any witch or warlock could do it, no matter their affinity, most learning how to at an early age. My dad had taught me when I was only twelve, and I thought of the memory now as I raised my stiff hands and, with a little flourish, muttered, “Arida.”

The barest of energy illuminated my fingers a deep purple as my magic responded to the spell with focused precision. Within seconds, my hair and clothing were bone dry, including my socks and shoes. I immediately felt better, but before I could breathe out a relieved sigh, the world around me blurred white.

Snow and wind swirled around me like a tornado, screaming their fury. They tore at my clothes and whipped my hair into my face, beyond pissed that I’d dared use my magic. Little shards of ice joined the maelstrom, mercilessly pelting my exposed skin. I covered my face, but the storm was everywhere, pounding into me so hard that I was forced to crouch in the snow.

The storm roared and roared, stealing my sight and the breath from my lungs. I opened my mouth to drag in air, but snow and sleet filled it instead. Panic fluttered in my chest, and in an instant, the darkness within me surged up again.

Use meeeeee.

As more and more snow dumped on me, so fast that I was waist-deep in it within seconds, the fear of being buried alive nearly made me give in. But that fear wasn’t as great as my fear of letting the darkness out after nearly two years of suppressing it. There had to be another way out of this, a way that didn’t involve losing myself to the malevolent magic simmering in my blood.

Angry that I wouldn’t let it out, the darkness shoved at the cage I kept it in, making it nearly impossible to think. Remembering another storm I’d recently been caught in, I quickly threw up my hands to conjure a shield. The snow and wind immediately stopped pelting me, thwarted by the invisible barrier. 

But the storm didn’t let up, screaming and pounding against the shield in search of weakness. Already exhausted from my near-drowning in the river and freezing hour-long trek, I knew I couldn’t hold it back indefinitely. I needed to get out of here and fast.

Struggling to my feet again, I waded through the snow, my hands stretched out before me to better support the shield. I walked blind, my only guide the river to my right. No longer able to hear it over the raging snowstorm, I stuck closely to the edge, the slick, snow-covered rocks slowing my progress significantly. 

Minutes felt like hours, but I kept going, one laborious step after another. If it wasn’t for the instinct letting me know that I was still headed in the right direction, I might have lost hope. The storm was relentless, growing in volume with no signs of stopping. I slipped and stumbled over the rocks, nearly ending up in the river several times. 

Everything ached, including my teeth, which were clenched tightly so they wouldn’t clack together from the cold. My job at Rudy’s Diner had kept me on my feet for nine hours a day as I’d bustled around waiting on tables, but it hadn’t prepared me for this trial. I felt woefully out of shape, my legs like jello beneath me. My body screamed at me to sit down, to take a break, but if I did, I’d probably never get up again. 

The air was growing thinner, and each breath was an effort as I doggedly plowed up the mountain. It might as well be Mount Everest at this rate, an impossible task that I had no hope of completing. I wasn’t ready for this. Wasn’t prepared. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well.

Why the hell hadn’t I told Gran the truth? That I hadn’t even sent in my application to Heartstone, that this was all a huge mistake?

Minutes turned into hours turned into days. My body weakened, my shield weakened, on the verge of collapsing. I felt it thin, felt it crack beneath the storm’s rage. Any second now and it would be over. I’d given all I could give, and I had nothing left. Water sloshed onto my shoes, and I finally noticed how rough the river’s current had become. A few steps later, and I understood why.

A waterfall. There was a freaking waterfall.

Which meant that I had to climb to the top somehow, and I didn’t . . . I didn’t have the energy. Just as defeat welled in my chest, just as my shield began to crumble to dust, my shoe landed on something flat. I glanced down and saw stone. Stone. Not rock. It was hewn into a man-made shape, a shape that instantly made me want to cry out in joy.

A stair!

I changed course and found another, then another and another, carved into the rocky mountainside to create a staircase beside the waterfall. Halfway up, my magic completely gave out. The snowstorm rushed back in and surrounded me, nearly knocking me backward. I blindly lurched forward and felt for the next step with my hands, crawling, clawing my way up.

I was close. I could feel it in my bones.

Just one more step. One more. I couldn’t give up when I was this close. It felt like an eternity, but I reached the top. Unable to see a thing through the screaming storm, I continued to crawl, not caring how pathetic I looked. 

One step. Just one step more.

I didn’t know how long I crawled, blindly using my hands to follow the paved stone path beside the river, but I was suddenly there. As if someone had flipped a switch, the raging storm ceased and the air cleared, allowing me to see the world around me for the first time in what felt like forever. I was at the foot of a steep set of polished stone stairs, and when I lifted my gritty eyes, I beheld the towering might that was Heartstone Academy.

The building was huge, jutting up so high that the pointed pinnacles got swallowed up by the night sky. The design was like that of a gothic cathedral, imposing and sinister, built out of stone nearly as dark as the heartstone it was named after. Most of the tall and narrow stained glass windows were devoid of light, making the structure appear that much more unwelcoming. The few lights I saw flickered weakly, going in and out of focus.

Or maybe that was my vision.

As I tried to stand, the ground dangerously tilted, and I knew that it was me. I was out of steam and fading fast. If I didn’t make it up those stairs, if I passed out right before reaching the entrance, would they fail me?

Unwilling for that to happen, I dragged myself forward and started to climb one last time. One more step. Just one more. I was close, so close. I had to complete the trial. Had to. There was no other choice.

Every step was agony, my heart trilling dangerously fast as I pushed myself past my limits. Darkness edged my vision, my exhausted body on the brink of collapse.

One more step. Just. One. More. Step.

I barely remembered reaching the top. Barely remembered stumbling toward the menacing building’s front doors. Barely remembered grasping one of the thick metal handles and pulling, yanking to pry it open.

But I remembered stepping foot inside. One step, and I was sprawled on the hard floor, unable to carry my weight a second longer. I managed to roll onto my back before everything dimmed, before the faces peering down at me blurred and started to fade. But as I succumbed to the darkness, one face sharpened long enough for me to recognize it. 

A face I’d hoped to never see again. 

A face that immediately flooded my mind with memory after painful memory. 

A face that made me think of her. Of my best friend.

The friend that I’d murdered almost two years ago.

DARK WITCH is book one in Becky Moynihan's Heartstone Academy series. You can find it on Amazon here.