The old writer witch was dead. Nadia Oswald watched him die. She held his hand until the light left his eyes. She was a human, but in that moment as the witch passed from life to death, she inherited his power. A power she hides from her family who hates magic and all who possess it.
Aidan Montgomery was born a witch. He was born with the rarest form of witchcraft, a fact he keeps hidden to protect himself. As an anchor witch he couldn’t feel more disconnected from his abilities if he tried. His power feels opposite to who he is. How can he anchor the world if he can’t even anchor himself?
Unrest in the south ends their world’s centuries of peace. In the north, a group of scientists builds a spaceship, the first their world has seen, keen on visiting the neighboring planet and the species there. So much threatens to tear things apart or change them for good. But fate has a funny way of making people come together. And destiny has a way of changing everything. . . .
Genre: YOUNG ADULT FICTION / Fantasy / Wizards & Witches“Who is it?” a voice whispers behind her.
“The writer witch,” is the reply.
Nadia does not know much about witches or their hierarchy, but even she knows that writer witches are not common. This man’s death will be felt.
Unconsciously she has taken several small steps further into the street. She realizes this only when the witch’s eyes meet hers. In that moment she realizes they have the same color blue to their eyes. Even as she watches, the color dims a bit.
His hand comes up. Nadia walks forward, stopping only when she gets to the man’s side. She kneels in the dirt and takes his hand. Blood begins to stain the pale yellow of her tidy skirt, but she couldn’t care less. Something in her couldn’t turn away from this dying man.
“What is your name?” he asks. His voice is strained and husky.
“Nadia.”
“Are you human?”
Nadia blinks in surprise. To anyone she knows, it is obvious she is human. She is surrounded day in and day out with humans. This witch—this dying man—is the closest to a witch she has been in several years.
“Yes,” she answers.
Fear fills his eyes. Nadia feels a shock run through her. She is young enough not to have seen fear like that before. The kind of fear that only comes out when death is at hand. She squeezes his hand tightly, trying to offer the most comfort she can to the dying man with eyes like hers.
His breathing becomes more ragged. He struggles to force out the words. “I’m not done yet—”
Nadia did not get the chance to ask, With what? The color goes flat in his eyes and she finds herself holding a corpse.
