The morning after the Moonbloom Festival, Elderglow shimmered with the afterglow of celebration. Dew clung to the cobblestones, catching the first rays of sunlight, and the air carried the faint scent of burnt sage from the coven's rituals. Liora Veyne stood at the edge of her cottage garden, her fingers brushing the petals of a moonflower that had bloomed overnight, its silver glow a testament to the festival's magic. But her mind wasn't on the flower. It was on Rowan—his storm-gray eyes, the warmth of his hand as they danced, the spark that had ignited something deep within her.
She hadn't slept well. The vision of the starlit glade had returned in her dreams, more vivid this time—the woman's auburn hair matching her own, the man's shadowed face now hinting at Rowan's sharp jawline. The amulet's absence gnawed at her, locked away in the coven hall, but Rowan's presence felt like a living echo of its magic. She couldn't shake the feeling that their meeting wasn't chance.
"Liora, stop daydreaming!" Mara called from the doorway, her voice cutting through Liora's reverie. She emerged with a basket of freshly gathered herbs, her dark braid swinging. "Mother needs us at the hall. Selene's summoned the coven."
Liora sighed, brushing dirt from her hands. "Already? It's barely dawn."
"Something about the amulet," Mara said, her tone cautious. "She didn't say more, but she looked… unsettled."
The word sent a shiver down Liora's spine. Selene was rarely anything but composed. She followed Mara through the village, the cobblestone streets quiet except for the occasional clatter of a merchant's cart. The coven hall loomed ahead, its stone walls etched with protective runes that pulsed faintly in the morning light. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of incense, and the elders were already gathered around a long table. Selene stood at its head, the amulet resting in a warded box before her, its violet glow subdued but still present.
"Liora," Selene said, her voice like a winter breeze. "Step forward."
Liora obeyed, her heart thudding. The other witches—Eirwen among them—watched with a mix of curiosity and concern. Selene opened the box, and the amulet's hum filled the room, a soft vibration that resonated in Liora's chest. "You found this," Selene continued. "And you claim it showed you a vision. Tell us again."
Liora recounted the starlit glade, the two figures, the sense of longing that had gripped her. As she spoke, the amulet's glow intensified, and Selene's eyes narrowed. "This is no ordinary relic," she said. "It's tied to an old magic, one that binds souls across time. The vision suggests a connection to you, but it's dangerous. We must seal it away."
"No!" The word slipped out before Liora could stop it. The room fell silent, and Eirwen's hand tightened on her staff. "It chose me," Liora added, quieter but firm. "I felt it. I can't just let it go."
Selene's gaze hardened. "Magic doesn't choose, Liora. It manipulates. This amulet could unravel our protections, draw forces we can't control. You'll stay away from it—and from the woods—until we understand its purpose."
Liora bit her lip, frustration boiling. She wanted to argue, to demand the amulet back, but the weight of the elders' stares held her tongue. She nodded reluctantly, and Selene closed the box, the hum fading. As the meeting adjourned, Eirwen pulled Liora aside.
"Listen to her," Eirwen said softly. "Your heart's too open, child. That amulet—it's not a toy."
"I know," Liora murmured, but her mind was already racing. She couldn't obey, not fully. The amulet's pull was too strong, and Rowan's face lingered in her thoughts, tying the mystery together.
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Later that day, the village buzzed with the festival's lingering energy. The Moonbloom Festival had left its mark—lanterns still floated lazily above the square, and vendors sold the last of their enchanted wares. Liora wandered the market, her cloak pulled tight against the cool breeze, her eyes scanning for Rowan. She told herself it was curiosity, not longing, but her pulse quickened when she spotted him near the same bookstall from yesterday.
He was leafing through a worn tome, his dark hair catching the sunlight. When he looked up and saw her, his smile was immediate, warm enough to chase away the morning's tension. "Liora," he said, closing the book. "I was hoping to see you again."
Her cheeks warmed. "I… thought I'd find you here. You seemed to like books."
"Stories are my escape," he replied, stepping closer. "This one's about a witch who defied her coven for love. Sounds familiar?"
Liora laughed, the sound lightening her mood. "Maybe. Elderglow's full of tales like that." She hesitated, then added, "Did you feel it yesterday? When we danced?"
Rowan's smile faded slightly, his eyes searching hers. "Felt what?"
"A spark," she said, her voice soft. "Like magic."
He didn't answer immediately, his gaze dropping to the book in his hands. Then he looked up, his expression unreadable. "Maybe I did. This place has a way of stirring things up."
Before she could respond, the air around them shifted. The lanterns above flickered, and a soft breeze carried the scent of ozone. Liora's magic flared, unbidden, and the flowers in a nearby stall burst into bloom, their petals unfurling in a riot of color. Rowan stepped back, startled, but his eyes widened with something like recognition.
"Your magic," he said, his voice low. "It's… alive."
Liora's heart raced. She tried to rein in the spell, but the energy pulsed, drawing gasps from the crowd. "I didn't mean to," she stammered, her hands trembling. The flowers settled, but the air still hummed with her power.
Rowan reached out, his fingers brushing hers. The contact sent a jolt through her, stronger than before, and for a moment, she saw the glade again—the woman and man, their hands glowing with the same light that now danced between her and Rowan. The vision faded, but the connection lingered, a thread of magic binding them.
"You're tied to it," he whispered, his gray eyes intense. "The amulet. I felt it last night too."
Liora stared at him, her breath catching. "How do you know about the amulet?"
"I don't," he admitted. "But I've been drawn to this place, to you, since I arrived. It's like… a pull I can't explain."
Before she could process his words, Mara appeared, her expression stormy. "Liora, what are you doing? Selene's orders were clear!" She glared at Rowan. "And you—stay away from her."
"Mara, wait—" Liora began, but her sister grabbed her arm, pulling her from the square. Rowan watched them go, his face a mix of concern and resolve.
Back at the cottage, Mara rounded on her. "You're risking everything! That stranger, the amulet—it's too much!"
"He's not just a stranger," Liora snapped, her voice shaking. "There's something between us, Mara. Magic. I felt it."
Mara's eyes softened, but her tone was firm. "Magic can deceive. Be careful."
That night, Liora lay awake, the festival's music echoing in her mind. The spark with Rowan had been real, a mirror to the amulet's power. She didn't know how or why, but their fates were entwined, and the enchanted forest held the answers. Against Selene's orders, she resolved to return to the Whispering Woods—and to find Rowan again.
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