Page 6 of Innocent Until Proven Witch

The entire thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

I reach the rim of town where the path begins climbing toward the cliffs. The lighthouse rises above the coastline, its beacon sweeping the darkening water, steady and reliable, a familiar landmark from childhood.

Footsteps approach from the opposite direction. I step aside as a figure emerges from the winding path ahead.

A woman in a dark cloak walks against the coastal wind, one hand holding a satchel, the other steadying her hood. I would have looked away, but something makes me pause.

As she draws closer, the setting sun catches strands of dark auburn hair escaping her hood. Her features are calm, composed, revealing little despite feeling everything. She doesn't appear dangerous, only tired—not physically, something deeper, the exhaustion of carrying too much alone.

Our eyes meet briefly, sea-glass green, striking enough to hold my attention longer than intended. Then she passes, no hesitation, no recognition, no reason to notice me at all.

I turn, watching her continue toward town. A strange sensation settles in my chest, unexpected and immediate. I don't know this woman, yet she feels familiar. We've never met, at least I don't think so.

A gust of wind catches her cloak, and for an instant the fading light outlines her silhouette against the cliffs before she continues down the path.

I remain where I am, confused by my own reaction, before I drag my gaze away and continue toward the lighthouse, the feeling following me anyway.

My mother called her Reina—the witch everyone seems eager to blame, the same woman who looked nothing like the villain people described.

I glance back toward the path. She's already disappeared into town, yet the image remains stubbornly clear in my mind. I find myself hoping our paths cross again.

3

REINA

Something is wrong.

The feeling arrives while I'm replacing a damaged ward stone near the western cliffs, my hands resting against the weathered surface when cold spreads through my chest. Not fear, not pain, recognition. The sea speaks its own language, and after years of guarding Moonhaven, I've learned to listen.

The wind shifts. The waves change rhythm. Magic moves where it shouldn't.

I straighten and stare toward the horizon, where dark clouds gather beyond the harbor. That alone wouldn't concern me—storms are common. This feels different. The air carries a strange heaviness that settles against my skin, and the ward beneath my palm flickers. I recall Gran words of when there comes a point when the storm listens to the witch and not the other way around.

"What are you trying to tell me?" I murmur, but the stone offers no answer.

Footsteps rush along the path behind me. I turn as Lisa rounds the bend, breathing hard, curls escaping whatever attempt she made to tame them.

"Reina." The urgency in her voice confirms my suspicion.

"What happened?"

Lisa doesn't slow until reaching me. "A fishing boat is missing."

My stomach drops. "When?"

"No one knows exactly. They lost contact with it after dawn."

I reach for my satchel. "Which vessel?"

"The Sea Sparrow."

I recognize the name. The crew fishes the northern waters regularly, experienced sailors who know them well.

"Has Gideon organized a search?"

"They've already sent boats but we doubt they can pass the storm," Lisa nods.

The answer should reassure me. It doesn't. The feeling in my chest only worsens. The sea remains restless, watching. I stare at the darkening horizon, where the clouds spread unnaturally fast and magic pulses beneath the wind. Faint. Wrong.