Chapter One

The feeling of a sudden weight jumping onto my chest yanks me out of my fitful sleep. My eyes pop open and I find myself staring into my younger sister’s smiling golden eyes.

Leisel throws her arms around me in a hug, kisses my cheek, and chirps, “Good morning!”

Despite the fatigue still weighing on me, I can’t help but return her smile. The nine-year-old is always bursting with energy and wakes me almost every morning like this. I wrap my arms around her and hug her in turn, also lightly kissing her cheek.

“Morning, trouble,” I murmur, pushing myself upright.

Chip, the small chipmunk Leisel saved from a ferret in the forest years ago, is sitting on her shoulder as usual. The two have been inseparable since Leisel found him, and anywhere she goes, he goes. I give his soft fur a gentle stroke in greeting before stretching my arms over my head and wincing at the crick in my neck.

“Have you already washed up?” I ask Leisel, setting her on the mattress next to me. Leisel is fourteen years my junior, and in the absence of our parents, I’ve raised her as my own daughter more than as a sister.

It was my mother’s last wish, right before she passed away giving birth to Leisel. If mythics hadn’t invaded the Earth and destroyed most of our technology and way of life, Mom could’ve gotten proper medical treatment to keep her alive. Unfortunately, such things haven’t been available to humans for more than two centuries. Now, there are only stories and rumors about how advanced our world used to be.

“Yep,” she responds. “Chip has too.”

I nod, suppressing a yawn, and slowly stand from my dingy bed. “Give me a few minutes to do the same, and I’ll get started on breakfast,” I tell her.

With a brilliant smile, she tosses her long strawberry-blonde hair over her shoulder and happily skips out of the room.

In a world of darkness, Leisel has always been a bright ray of sunlight. That’s likely why all the villagers in Aesara adore her—despite the difficult, unyielding times we live in, she’s always a bubbly presence.

I take a quick shower, trying to conserve water as much as possible. The bits of technology mythics have allowed us to retain are minimal; primarily electricity, just enough to power running water, stoves, and lights. Everything else, items that didn’t suit their needs, was destroyed.

In the beginning, there were massive rebellions against this. Humans were rightfully angry that our world was being invaded, our technology destroyed, our lives upended. Those rebellions were quelled swiftly by shifters, who were the first mythics to invade. It was easy to see that they outclassed us in just about every way and that we didn’t stand a chance.

Now we scrape by however possible. Some are more fortunate than others; those who have learned to make the best of what they can. But no human is truly fortunate these days. The gilded ages of human monarchies and people living in extravagance are now only stories in old books.

After brushing my teeth with an herbal paste bought in the village market, I get dressed in worn-down, somewhat tattered clothing. Then, winding my red hair into a bun, I head through a small hallway into the kitchen and living area.

The cabin we inherited from our parents is modest, a one-story home with a living room and kitchen combined into one space, two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a spare room that I use to paint whenever I can find the time. Our home is on the very edge of our village, Aesara, and sits on a few acres of rich farmland, with a small stable that’s home to two horses. It’s bordered by a vast forest that makes excellent ground for hunting. Thanks to my mother and father, we have everything we need to sustain ourselves—an abundance of fruits, vegetables, and grains I grow and harvest each year to sell or trade in the market of Aesara.

Although my father died when I was thirteen, days before my mother found out she was pregnant, he’d already taught me everything I needed to know about hunting and harvesting. Both are gifts that have allowed me to provide as comfortable a life as possible for Leisel.

Leisel’s already sitting at our small circular wooden dining table, leafing through a book. Another thing we inherited from our parents was a small, albeit rich in literature, collection of books. My father was an avid Shakespeare reader, my mother loved all classics, and after their deaths, Leisel and I were left with about a hundred books of our own that are stacked around the house. That’s a far greater sum than can be found even in our village’s old bookshop.

“What are you reading?” I ask her, walking over to the stove to start on breakfast. Oatmeal for Leisel and fresh fruit plucked off our land for me as always, and a handful of grains for Chip.

“The Pearl,” Leisel responds absently.

I smile. “Ah, Steinbeck. Wonderful author. Tell me about what you’ve read so far.”

Education is in very scarce supply these days, and the majority of schooling is done from home. Along with a rich book collection, my mother left several textbooks for me—on topics ranging from math to languages to science and even farming techniques. She taught me various subjects from the time I can remember until her death. From there, I used what I’d learned to teach both myself and later Leisel.

I listen as Leisel gives me a synopsis of what she’s read so far, nodding along while preparing our breakfast. By the time I set our bowls on the table, she’s moved on from talking to me and is back to reading while absently petting Chip.

I drop a handful of nuts onto the wooden surface of the table by Leisel’s bowl for Chip as well as a strawberry, and he quickly runs down Leisel’s arm to get to his breakfast.

As we eat, I say, “I’m going to muck out the stables after breakfast—I expect you to have finished with your history lesson once I’m back, and we’ll go over it.” Leisel, like I was, is an incredibly advanced student—we’re already going over ninth-grade textbook material, years ahead of her educational age range.

“History is so boring,” she mutters with a pout.

I chuckle. “I didn’t like it much, either, but it’s important nonetheless. We’ll have lunch, and after that, I’ll be in the forest for an hour or two emptying out traps and hunting, during which time you’ll have your English lesson. Once we’ve gone over that, if you’re up to it, I think you’re ready for the next chapter in our spell book.”

That offer really gets Leisel’s attention, and her eyes widen with excitement. “The one about wards?”

Along with our collection of classic literature and textbooks, my mother left behind a few ancient books, of which there are a very limited number of copies in the world. Books of witchcraft—books that were passed through the generations of my mother’s bloodline.

“Yes,” I tell Leisel, scooping up a bit of oatmeal along with a strawberry on my wooden spoon. Once I’ve chewed and swallowed the bite I say, “The chapter also goes over beseeching favor of the gods.”

As far as everyone is concerned, there are no longer such things as earthly witches, human witches. They simply don’t exist in the eyes of those on Earth. The population of both humans and mythics are blissfully unaware that there are still a number of human witches left, such as me and Leisel.

I was taught from birth to hide my magical blood because if anyone found out about it, I’d either be lusted after due to my powers or killed by those who fear such power. Another reason I’m grateful for living a distance away from the village is that Leisel and I can practice what little witchcraft I’ve learned without worrying about a nosy neighbor catching wind of our activities.

I only have one discernable magical power, but it’s a rare one that my mother told me hadn’t surfaced in thousands of years. Leisel only has one as well; the power to heal. Despite her young age, she’s already remarkably capable and powerful. I suspect the reason Chip has lived for four years is because of his constant contact with Leisel. Her powers have expanded his lifespan, possibly indefinitely. My power, however, is geared much more to harm than help—hence why I’m particularly careful with it.

Leisel bounces up and down in her seat. “Can we start with that instead of history?”

I laugh. “You know the drill, sweet girl. First the boring, then the fun. After we’re done with your studies and my work for the day we’ll be heading into the town to trade and buy some food and supplies.”

Her eyes brighten even more at that. Although I believe Leisel enjoys the little slice of paradise we live on, she’s an incredibly social person and also loves spending time around other people. I try to take her into town at least a few times a week—sometimes simply to walk around and marvel at the bustling market Aesara is home to.

“Can we have beef stew for dinner?” she asks.

I smile, knowing it’s her favorite dish. All of the recipes I know, I learned from my mother, who was a spectacular cook. She was a spectacular everything, a true role model. “Absolutely. Now finish up, I need to get going.”