Chapter 1 — Chapter 1

Althea

I push open the creaky door to Moonshade Brew, the rich aroma of coffee mingling with the faint scent of sage and lavender, a subtle nod to the café’s hidden magical patrons. The familiar coziness of the space—worn wooden tables etched with faint sigils, the hum of an old espresso machine—settles over me like a soft shawl, easing the tightness in my shoulders. A few regulars glance up, offering warm nods, their smiles carrying a quiet kinship.

“Morning, Althea,” Kyle calls from behind the counter, his tone friendly as always. I return his wave with a faint smile, though something in his lingering gaze feels… off. I shake it away, chalking it up to my own edginess lately.

As I weave through the shop, I notice a teetering stack of books on a nearby table and a wilted sunflower drooping in its vase. With a subtle twitch of my fingers, I steady the books and brush the petals, a whisper of magic flowing through me. Golden yellow chases the decay from the flower as the stack settles silently—a small, seamless act I barely register anymore.

My gaze sweeps the room, landing on our usual corner by the window. There they are—my sisters, already lost in conversation. Vera’s hands gesture wildly as she speaks, while Seraphine listens with her trademark blend of amusement and doubt.

A smile tugs at my lips as I approach. No matter the chaos we’ve faced—vampire skirmishes at the edge of town, whispered warnings of unrest—these moments with them always feel like home.

I slide into my seat, a quiet comfort spreading through me as I take in their familiar faces. Seraphine’s glasses sit slightly askew, and Vera’s eyes glint with mischief. We exchange quick hugs before settling in with our drinks, raising our cups in a small toast—a family ritual since we were kids. “To us,” I murmur, and they echo it softly.

“You would not believe the morning I’ve had,” Seraphine groans, adjusting her tortoiseshell frames. “I tried that new protection spell from Gran’s grimoire, and now my bedroom reeks of swamp water.”

I chuckle. “Oh, Ro. What did you do this time?”

She throws her hands up, exasperated. “I followed the instructions! Mostly. I might’ve switched out a few herbs.”

Vera rolls her eyes, though her tone is fond. “Seraphine, you know Gran’s recipes aren’t for improvising.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Seraphine insists, eyeing her coffee suspiciously. “Speaking of which, watch this.”

With a flick of her wrist and a muttered incantation, she tries to sweeten her drink. Instantly, a mountain of whipped cream erupts, spilling over the mug onto the table.

“Oops,” she mutters, cheeks flushing.

I lean in, whispering a quick spell. The excess cream vanishes, leaving her coffee perfectly topped.

“Show-off,” she grumbles, though a grateful smile tugs at her lips.

I sip my herbal blend, the warmth grounding me. “So,” I say, shifting to practical matters, “any progress on Mom and Dad’s anniversary party plans?”

“I’ve got some notes,” Vera replies, ever the organizer. “But I’d love to hear your ideas, too.” She glances at me over her cup.

Excitement bubbles up as I lean forward. “I was thinking we could enchant the garden to bloom with flowers that glow under moonlight. It’d be so romantic.”

Vera’s eyes brighten. “Ooh, and magical fireworks forming constellations meaningful to Mom and Dad!”

She glances around discreetly, then cups her hand. A tiny shimmering orb of light hovers above her palm, casting a soft glow. “Like this, but grander.”

I nod eagerly. “Perfect, Vera. How’d that corporate event go last week? The one with the fire dancers?”

She grins, extinguishing the light with a flick. “It was amazing. Dad’s pyrotechnics were flawless, Mom’s weather magic kept the rain at bay, and I handled ambient lighting. Though we had a close call with a nosy client asking too many questions about our ‘special effects.’”

I feel a swell of pride. Our parents’ events management company—infused with subtle magic—has soared, though it’s not without its risks. “You’re all taking it to new heights,” I say.

Seraphine shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know… maybe we should keep the magic subtle for the anniversary. I don’t want anything going wrong.”

I frown, puzzled. “What do you mean, ‘going wrong’? It’s a magical family celebration. We should go all out!”

Her shoulders hunch defensively. “You know my magic’s unpredictable. What if I ruin their party?”

Impatience flares in me. “Come on, Ro. You just need more practice. You can’t hold back forever because of a few mistakes.”

Her face flushes, eyes narrowing as her voice rises. “It’s not fair, Althea. I’m trying, but every spell feels like a gamble. You wouldn’t get it—your magic never fails.”

Her words sting, and I snap back before I can stop myself. “Ro, I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to trust yourself more. I hate seeing you hold back.”

A tense silence falls over us. Seraphine’s fingers tremble slightly as she grips her mug, her gaze dropping to the table. In that moment, I see a flash of memory in her eyes—last summer, when a simple levitation spell went haywire, shattering Gran’s prized vase. She’d cried for hours, convinced she’d never measure up. Guilt twists in my chest. I should’ve been gentler. I’ve always felt responsible for her growth, especially after I failed to help her through a botched spell years ago, leaving her to face Dad’s disappointment alone.

Vera cuts in, her voice calm but strained. “Hey, let’s take a breath. We all want this to be special for Mom and Dad.” Her usual brightness falters, a flicker of worry crossing her face—maybe about the family business, or something else she’s not saying.

The cheerful buzz of the café feels stifling now, underscoring our tension. I sip my drink, wincing inwardly at my harsh tone. Seraphine fidgets with her glasses, avoiding eye contact, her hurt palpable.

I take a deep breath, softening my voice as I reach for her hand. “Look, Ro, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push. How about we work on some simple enchantments together? Nothing flashy, just a little magic for the party.”

Her shoulders ease slightly, though her expression remains guarded. “Yeah… maybe. As long as you’ve got a backup plan if I turn the cake into a frog.”

I smile at her self-deprecating humor. Vera chimes in, her tone lighter. “I’ll handle the guest list and logistics. We’ve got this covered.”

The tension lifts a bit, and I fall into old habits. With a subtle flick of my wrist, I levitate a spoon to stir my tea, unnoticed by the mundane patrons. I pluck a sugar cube, infusing it with a hint of vanilla before dropping it into Seraphine’s cup. Her eyes widen as she sips, savoring the flavor.

A breeze drifts through the open window, carrying the crisp scent of autumn. I adjust it to a gentle warmth, making the space cozier.

Vera raises an eyebrow. “Show-off,” she teases, though her gaze darts briefly to the door, as if sensing something I haven’t.

I lean in, ideas flowing. “I found a spell in Gran’s grimoire to make the garden dance. Imagine roses waltzing to Mom and Dad’s favorite song.”

Seraphine grins, a spark of excitement returning. “And maybe I’ll enchant something without it turning into a squirrel.”

Vera snorts. “Yeah, Ashling wouldn’t take kindly to that. Most possessive familiar ever.”

As we dive into party plans, a sudden chill creeps down my spine. The hairs on my neck prick up, a distinct feeling of being watched washing over me. My laughter fades as I scan the café, trying to pinpoint the source. A light above a nearby table flickers briefly, and a hushed conversation from the corner feels oddly pointed.

My eyes drift to the window, catching a dark shape dart past—there and gone in a blink. I wonder if I imagined it.

“Althea?” Vera’s voice pulls me back. “You okay? You look pale.”

I force a smile, shaking my head. “Sorry, thought I saw something outside. It’s nothing.”

But it doesn’t feel like nothing. My gaze sweeps to the counter. Kyle stands rigidly behind the espresso machine, his stare fixed on our table with unsettling intensity. I remember last month when he asked odd questions about our family’s “unique events”—more curious than casual. When he catches me looking, he quickly turns away, wiping an already clean surface.

Unease gnaws at me, but Vera waves a hand in front of my face. “Hey, you with us?”

I push the doubts aside, focusing on my sisters. “Sorry, lost in thought. Where were we with the party plans?”

Seraphine hesitates, biting her lip. “Have you two felt anything… odd lately? Like a strange energy around town?”

Vera shrugs. “Probably just the full moon stirring things up.”

I tilt my head, considering Seraphine’s words. “What kind of energy?”

She glances around the café, voice low. “Hard to explain. Just… unsettling. Like something’s out of balance.”

I nod slowly. “We should stay vigilant. I’ll talk to Gran about reinforcing the wards. Remember that minor vampire sighting near the old mill last month? We can’t be too careful.”

Vera sighs, though her eyes betray concern. “You two worry too much. But extra protection never hurts.”

“Speaking of Gran,” I add, struck by an idea, “why don’t we visit her tomorrow? We can grab supplies for the party and finalize plans.”

Seraphine brightens. “Perfect! Gran always knows how to make things special.”

Vera nods. “Plus, her garden’s in full bloom. Might spark some inspiration.”

As we call for the check, a surge of love for my sisters washes over me. Despite our differences, we always rally when it counts. I gather my things, slipping my phone into my purse after a quick glance at the time—later than I thought. Seraphine fusses with her scarf, still avoiding my gaze.

“Hey, Ro,” I say softly, touching her arm. “Call me if you want to practice those enchantments. No pressure.”

She looks up, a small smile forming. “Thanks, Althea. I’ll think about it.”

As she heads out, her posture still tense, guilt tugs at me. Vera pulls me aside, voice low. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Ro’s been struggling with her magic more than she admits.”

I sigh, nodding. “I know. I shouldn’t have pushed. I’ll call her later to apologize properly.”

Vera squeezes my arm before leaving. I linger a moment, the café’s earlier comfort fading with their absence. Stepping outside, the cool evening air bites at my skin as I pull my sweater tighter. My mind replays my words to Seraphine. I’m supposed to be the supportive one. How did I fail her so badly?

The sidewalk buzzes with evening traffic, but I’m lost in thought. A sudden drop in temperature pulls me back, my gaze darting to shadowy corners. That feeling of being watched clings to me, unshakable. I scan the street—nothing seems amiss, yet my unease grows.

Pausing at a crosswalk, I wait for the light to change. Streetlamps flicker on as dusk settles over the city, a cool breeze rustling fallen leaves. Then I see it—a raven perched on the nearest lamppost, its glossy feathers gleaming under the light. Its dark eyes lock onto mine with an eerie intelligence, wings rustling as if poised to take flight. A second bird lands beside it, intensifying the chill in my bones.

I shake my head, trying to dismiss it. *It’s just a bird, Althea. Stop overthinking.*

The light changes, and I hurry across. When I glance back, both ravens are gone.

By the time I reach my apartment, I’ve almost convinced myself it’s just stress—party plans, family tensions, the weight of our legacy as protectors of this town. I fumble with my keys, unlocking the door. But as I step inside, I freeze. A faint glow pulses from the protective ward etched above the threshold, flickering in a way it shouldn’t.

My heart skips. Something’s not right.