AUTHOR It was still very early in the morning, Katherine stood in the clearing with Mara, Nora at her side. The surviving witches watched from a distance, arms crossed, faces still hard with distrust. They didn't want her learning how they survived, if anything they wanted her to fail, the same way she failed them. Mara tapped her staff once. “Power is not a gift. It is a storm. You do not command it. You survive it. Show me, How you call the spirits that hunt you.” Katherine closed her eyes and reached inward. The darkness answered, tendrils rising from the ground, coiling around her wrists. They snapped forward, striking a nearby log and splintering it clean. Mara nodded once. “Good. Now balance it.”Katherine tried to pull back. But it resisted, tightening, and hungry. Pain lanced through her temples. One tendril whipped toward Nora.“Stop!” Katherine gasped, forcing her will through the bond. It hesitated, then retreated—slow, reluctant.Mara’s eyes narrowed. “Better. But slo
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