Chapter 1: Between the salt and the leaves

In the northern territory of Kaidra, tucked between the Spirit Wood and the sea, lived a quiet girl named Calissa Tawney, who talked to birds. 

They told her things. Important things. 

About how the night had been shifting lately and the woods have been groaning. 

About how the wastes in the east were growing west again.

About how the king was hunting for another witch.

However, Lissa wasn’t interested in what the birds sang about, not when she had her own business to mind. She was simply replenishing her stocks of rosemary, lavender, and sage; the three main herbs people came looking for when they wanted a protection charm. 

And the people of Salindor always wanted protection charms. 

Lissa couldn’t blame them—this town is known for its oddities. Just last week a couple of children wandered into the woods, right before dark, and never made it home. Their bodies hadn’t been found either. 

But people always go missing in the woods. 

The castle soldiers had descended into the streets of Salindor in the last few weeks. The patrolled the city to enforce “order,” but it was witches who were going missing, and the crown didn’t particularly care about the fate of witches. Especially when they were the reason for their disappearing. 

Every few moths the king would send out his witch hunter to collect a witch and send her off in search of the Book of Mages. Except the Book had been missing for thirty years and the last witch sent on the quest hadn’t been seen or heard from in months. 

Lissa could feel the nervous energy in the air like the bite of a winter wind, despite the fall sun still holding onto its summer warmth. It pulled at her hair, nipped at her cheeks, and whispered a gentle caution in her ears. 

Be safe. 

Be cautious.

The same warning her parents uttered before they left and never returned. 

Behind a messy counter, Trista counted out the herbs, separating them into cloth while the bell over the front door chimed with each new customer who entered. Several people milled about the small shop, smelling herbs and tasting spices, but the old woman paid them no attention. 

Lissa liked this about Trista: her care for only the person in front of her. And the fact that she doesn’t treat Lissa like some freak to be gawked at like the rest of the town. The witch had always been kind to Lissa and her little sister Ella, always had gifts for them when they visited.  

The old woman placed each bundle in a basket. Her finger’s swollen joints were slow with age, careful in their movements as if using them was painful. Lissa suppressed the urge to crack her own fingers at the site, knowing she was bound for the same fate when she got older. 

“Be mindful of your step out there, little bird, don’t give those soldiers any reason to believe you know anything about the Book,” Trista mused handing over the bundle of sprigs. The simple mention of the cursed tome caused the overhead light to flicker as if it still commanded power from wherever it hid. She steeled herself against the chill skittering across her skin. 

“May the moon watch over you,” Lissa offered to the old woman, choosing to ignore the shift in the air, and the witch’s mention of the Book altogether. 

Outside the wind changed, and more importantly the canaries silenced their song. The sun had finally set over the sea, casting the sky in a deep blue and the town in a hazy orange glow from the mage lights. If the soldiers were really searching for the Book again, then the king was in need of a witch. That damned Book was the reason her parents were dead, leaving her to raise Ella and run the shop. 

Eight years, they had been gone. 

Eight years Lissa had avoided anything to do with the Book of Mages. 

In truth, the increased patrol should worry Lissa, but her neighbors caused her more problems than any soldier ever did. Each person she passed veered around her in order to not get too close, whispering snide comments about the girl who talked to birds. Occasionally they would leave threatening messages at the shop or nail them to her front door if they dared to get that close to the woods. 

Being a witch wasn’t a crime, but in a world where only women were witches and men had magic if they managed to convince a witch to train them, power was coveted. And any deviance from what was considered “normal” magic, was vilified. Lissa was the weird girl in town. The one who made people uncomfortable. 

All because she could talk to birds and that was not normal. 

Lissa’s power had always been different, had always been a little more than it should be. She barely understood it herself which meant she couldn’t exactly blame everyone else for their fear of her. It was easy to be afraid of things you didn’t understand. 

A low whistle sounded from behind her—she picked up her pace, but didn’t run. 

Acting as though she wasn’t scared would get her further than if she ran. 

“Mind your tongue, little one,” a canary sang as it flitted past her. She rolled her eyes. Her minding her tongue was as likely as snowfall in the Argadeshi desert. 

Low laughs and slurred words floated around her in warning. 

They were always the same, these men. Alerting her to their presence well before they descended upon her. Lissa knew their tricks, but she also knew she couldn’t overpower them all. However, there were ways to mitigate the damage they would do.

Lissa stepped out into the middle of the dirt street, getting as far away from the alleys as possible. They’d caught her in one too many times and the dark only made them braver. 

“Why are you in such a hurry, bird girl?” one of them called in a low, gravelly voice.  

She didn’t offer a response to such a tired insult. It would be a miracle if her tongue didn’t earn her a bruised tonight.

Footsteps pounded faster behind her. Typically, they only traveled in a pack of three. Those weren’t the best odds, but it was better than nothing. 

Please let there only be three of you. 

A hand clamped around her wrist, halting her steps. If she fought too soon, they’d be inclined to use more force. There was still a chance she could talk her way out of this—she just needed to stay calm. 

“We just want to talk,” the man holding her slurred. 

Lissa attempted a deep breath, but her lungs weren’t fond of the effort. “You always ‘just want to talk.’”

The group of them circled her and she turned to look each one deliberately in the face. She wanted them to see her eyes—the yellow irises that matched the little birds who sang to her and earned her the moniker. Her eyes were always a topic of fear, how they haunted those who looked into them, how each person who saw them ended up cursed, how they could make a man lose his sanity. 

She usually hated these rumors, but the whispers worked in her favor in these moments. Especially when she was even more outnumbered than she’d hoped. 

There were five of them. 

Breathe, dammit. 

The grip around her wrist turned biting. The man’s fingers pressed hard against her bones and her own fingers began to tingle. 

“It’s not natural for you to have the power you do.” The man sneering at her was strong. Lissa could see the muscles bulging in his chest and arms, straining against his shirt. 

She simply stared at him. It was a statement she heard all too often. 

“You aren’t even going to answer?” He leaned forward to tower over her. 

“You didn’t ask a question.” She shrugged. 

He stepped forward, close enough for her to taste his hot, sour breath. It made her want to throw up, but she pushed it down. 

“The king rewards people for bringing in those who use dark magic.”

She looked to her right, to the man who had interjected. 

“Still not a question,” she said, relishing in the bright red stain burning onto his cheeks.

The one in front of her gripped her jaw and wrenched her face back to him. “Just admit that you use dark magic, that you slaughter innocents for that corrupt power of yours, and we’ll let you go.”

How unoriginal, she thought. Half of the town believed witches killed innocents in the woods for their power. 

“No, you won’t let me go,” she admitted for him. 

Laughter filled her ears, but she kept her focus on the unflinching brute in front of her. “No, we won’t.” He reached up and ran a grimy knuckle down her cheek. “A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be out alone this late. Why don’t you have anyone protecting you?” 

The minds of men. How profound. How small. How exhausting.

“A pretty little thing like me, doesn’t need protection. Corruptible power, remember?” She quirked a dark brow at him. 

“Fucking witch,” the fat one holding her wrist spat. 

Lissa sighed. This was such a tiresome encounter, like they always were. “That’s not the slur you think it is, you drunk moron.”

A hairy man to her left cocked his fist and swung. She saw it coming, but did nothing to stop it from connecting with her chin—not that she could go anywhere with the hands holding her in place. The impact sent her to her knees. Her bag fell to the ground, spilling herbs and spices and tiny stoppered bottles. None of her companions seemed to mind. 

She pressed a hand to her burning cheek, balancing on her knees as her other arm remained in a tight hold, twisted at an unforgiving angle. Climbing to her feet, Lissa turned and punched the man holding her. Blessedly he let go, freeing her arm for her to fight properly. 

Lissa ducked under a slow arm arcing toward her and drove her elbow into the man’s gut. Slimy hands reached for her, but she slipped out of reach. She landed a kick to the outside of a knee, sending one of them to the ground with a roar of pain. 

Arms clamped around her waist, lifting her off her feet. She kicked in every direction with as much force as she could muster, but it didn’t matter how much she thrashed, the arms wouldn’t budge. 

Power coursed through her veins, pressing against her skin, begging to be used, but she fought against it just as hard as she fought to get away from the men. Lissa couldn’t use it—not when the control on her emotions was so far gone. 

“Stop fighting, bird girl,” whispered the man holding her, his breath hot against her ear.

Lissa rammed the back of her head into his nose and was greeted with a delightfully sickening crack. 

Another man grabbed her ankles just as a low whistle rang out. 

The group of them stilled, even Lissa, as they looked for the source of the sound, but there was no one in sight. It was easy to be afraid of something you couldn’t see, especially when it happened again, followed by a long, low scraping on a wall. 

But the noise didn’t faze her. Not when three men still had their hands on her body.

“What the fuck is that?” one of them asked, his retreating steps giving him away. 

Something crashed in a nearby alley and the birds scattered, racing into the night sky to get away as fast as their wings would allow. The nightmares of the woods often spilled into the town. 

“Don’t be afraid,” one of the fleeing birds sang. 

The men holding her dropped her to the ground to sprint away. Lissa hit the hard dirt, forcing a groan from her body. She laid there for a moment, let her muscles relax, then pulled herself to her feet. Once she gathered her bag and its spilled contents, she found the sidewalk again and continued her journey home. 

Something always scared the men off before they hurt her too badly. Lissa didn’t know if it was the woods, the birds, or something else entirely looking out for her, but she didn’t care. 

She was free of the nasty men. 

Lissa moved her jaw around, working against the soreness of the punch that was certainly leaving a nasty bruise. 

“Lamp post,” a familiar voice warned from behind her. 

Lissa stopped abruptly to find there was, indeed, a lamp post directly in her path. The enchanted mage light at the top burned a hazy warm glow. 

“I wouldn’t have actually run into it, Elias,” she informed the man now standing at her side. 

“I’ve known you since you were seven, Liss.” He shot her a withering look. “You’ve never stopped running into things.” 

Lissa swatted his arm, but let him take the bag out of her hands. 

“All that magic and still, your first instinct is to fight with your fists,” Elias said, bringing his hand up to her cheek. He turned her face gently to see the discolored skin in the lamp light. 

She watched him for a long moment, thankful he knew why she didn’t like to use her magic, and said, “I wouldn’t want them to think I was cheating.” 

“Hmm.” He leaned down, pressed a light kiss to her forehead, and released her. They walked out of the town on the barely lit dirt road that would take her home. 

“How long have you been stalking me?” Lissa picked at her fraying shirt sleeve. 

He huffed a laugh. “Since you barely managed to side-step a wagon on the last block.” 

 “And you didn’t say anything then?” 

“I wanted to see how far you’d get.” Elias shrugged, the corner of his mouth curling. “What were you thinking about?” 

Lissa sighed and looked carefully around the street before meeting Elias’s knowing blue eyes—they reminded her of the deep ocean in the low light. 

“All of this talk about the soldiers and what the king is looking for. I just—” Her words cut off unexpectedly, unable to say out loud why she was scared. 

Elias instantly softened with her words and threw an arm around her shoulder, tucking her into his warmth. “I know. Let’s get you home. You’ll be fine once you see the mess Ella and Isa managed to make in the time you’ve been out.” 

“Mother help me,” she sighed. 

But a mess was something Lissa could handle, something that would keep her hands and mind busy. 

Because the birds were still singing their warning songs.