In the hidden town of Etherwood Cove, two covens live side by side yet worlds apart. Briarwood’s witches draw their magic from soil, roots, and forest life, while Eversky’s witches call upon stars, moonlight, and cosmic energy. But when magic across the land begins to falter, with spells misfiring, plants dying, and constellations trembling out of rhythm, the balance that held their world together begins to slip.
Wren Fernhart works quietly in the Storybird Cafe, blending teas with the earthy magic she inherited from her Briarwood lineage and hiding the truth of her hybrid forest abilities. Celeste Orion, the youngest Elder Eversky has seen in centuries, carries both her coven’s expectations and a heart that has always longed for something more. When Celeste slips into the quiet cafe, the entire room seems to hold its breath. The moment her eyes meet Wren’s, something awakens between them, something neither magic nor logic can name, a pull that feels older than the covens themselves.
As Wren and Celeste’s connection strengthens with an intensity neither expected, strange shifts ripple through Etherwood Cove. The forest stirs through Wren’s blood, and the stars tremble under Celeste’s touch, hinting at secrets buried deep in their shared history. Together they begin uncovering forgotten truths about a time when their covens stood united, and the consequences of the centuries that tore them apart.
With magic faltering and desire growing stronger, they must decide what they are willing to risk to understand what is happening around them. Can a love born in secrecy help heal a world built on division, or will the answers they find threaten the fragile balance of their world?
“Wren, please don’t keep me in the dark.”
Finally, she spoke. “I received my forest magic at the time of my mother’s passing ... as if she gave it to me. I believe we became one being in that moment, which is why I still feel her. If she does, or could ever live in the physical sense, I think it is now through me.”
I scanned her eyes and saw something else hidden there, something she was scared to tell me. “Wren, please tell me everything,” I pleaded.
She took a deep breath. “Being part forest goddess is both a blessing and a curse. I have the ability to speak to the animals, to the trees, to feel them and connect with them so deeply. I love my forest magic,” she smiled at the thought, letting it linger, “but ...”
“But what?” I asked, leaning closer.
She looked at me, hesitant. “The magic has been faltering within me for some time, just like it did with my mother. And I fear I may contract the fever, if I do not already have it.”
“Wren, no ...” I whispered, my eyes glossing over suddenly.
“Hey,” she said, voice gentle and warm. She pulled me closer, taking my face in her hands and pressing her lips to mine before resting her forehead against mine. “My magic is stronger when I am with you. As if our connection restores it, even if only for the briefest of moments,” she whispered.
I pulled back slightly, meeting her gaze. “Really?”
She nodded.
“My magic feels stronger with you too,” I admitted, our smiles mirroring each other’s.
“I know that we have to figure out how to restore the balance, but for now, can we enjoy the day together? We are all alone. No one can find us,” she said, playfulness returning to her voice and her smile.
“I would love nothing more than to get lost in this day with you,” I replied, my heart swelling at the thought of just being here with her. The world around us seemed to fade into the background until the only thing that mattered was each other.
And if the world beyond these trees would never understand what was growing between us, then perhaps we could disappear into this hidden place for a while. Just the two of us, wrapped in magic and quiet and possibility, safe from everything that waited outside.
For a while, we simply stood there, breathing in the hidden world she had given me. The waterfall whispered steadily below, its rhythm slow and patient, like it had all the time in existence. Sunlight filtered through layered branches high above, splintering into soft beams that warmed my skin and caught in Wren’s hair like threads of gold.
She slipped her fingers back into mine, more confident this time, and led me farther into the clearing. Each step felt like crossing into something sacred. The air hummed faintly with living magic, not loud or dazzling, but steady and ancient, the kind that did not need to announce itself to be powerful.
“This place still listens,” she said quietly. “Even now.”
I felt it, too. The quiet awareness stretched through every leaf and ripple of water, through the roots beneath our feet and the sky above the canopy. It was not watching us with suspicion. It was welcoming us.
I squeezed her hand. “Then maybe we are exactly where we’re meant to be.”
She looked at me then, really looked at me, her expression softening in a way that made something ache beautifully behind my ribs. “That’s how it feels,” she whispered. “With you.”
The world beyond this place waited with all its rules and fear and centuries of fracture. But here, wrapped in sunlight and leaf-shadow and the fragile courage we were building between us, none of that existed yet. Only the promise of the day. Only the slow, tender beginning of something we were not ready to name.
And for now, that was enough.
