Moonlit Magic
A wave of death hit her.
Not rot, not decay—just weight. Like the air after a storm, heavy and ancient. The girl turned, her blue eyes sharp, and smiled.
"Hello. I’m Deidre."
Rita blinked. "Rita."
"It’s my second year here," Deidre mused, "but Alice’s voice is just so beautiful, I couldn’t resist attending again."
Rita stifled a laugh. Definitely the witch’s allure working on her.
"You’re new, right?" Deidre tilted her head. "I’d remember someone like you."
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