Chapter 3

AS FROST AND I PREPARE to leave the town square, Grizelda steps forward, her wild mane of hair swaying with each movement. She raises her arms, palms facing outward, and a shimmering energy radiates from her fingertips. “I’ll reinforce the barrier before you go,” she says, her voice strained. “It should buy us some time.”

The air around us crackles with magic, and I watch in awe as an iridescent dome materializes above the town. It’s beautiful, like a soap bubble stretched across the sky, but as quickly as it appears, it flickers and fades.

Grizelda’s face contorts in concentration. She tries again, her hands trembling with effort. The barrier flashes once more, but it’s weaker this time, barely visible before it dissipates entirely.

“Something’s wrong,” whispers Frost, currently orange eyes wide with concern.

Suddenly, the witch’s knees buckle. She sways on her feet, her eyes rolling back in her head. Atlas, her towering troll husband, rushes forward with surprising agility for someone his size. He catches her just before she hits the ground, cradling her gently in his massive arms.

“Grizelda?” Atlas’s deep voice rumbles with worry. “What’s happening?”

The crowd around us murmurs anxiously. I spot Sage, the elderly elf librarian I met a couple of days ago, pushing his way through. His long silver braid swings behind him as he hurries to Grizelda’s side.

“Let me see her,” he says, adjusting the glasses perched on his pointed ears. He places a wrinkled hand on Grizelda’s forehead and closes his eyes. A soft golden glow emanates from his palm.

After a moment, his eyes snap open. “It’s magical burnout. The strain of maintaining the barrier, combined with her pregnancy, has depleted her magical reserves.”

Atlas cradles Grizelda closer, seeming to droop with worry. “Can you help her?”

Sage shakes his head. “My healing abilities are limited, but I know where to find the information we need.” Without another word, he vanishes in a puff of smoke, leaving behind a trail of floating bookmarks.

The town square falls silent, save for Grizelda’s labored breathing. Frost shifts nervously beside me, his hair frosting over at the tips. I want to reach out and comfort him, but I’m not sure how.

Seconds later, Sage reappears, clutching a massive leather-bound tome. He flips through the pages with practiced ease, muttering under his breath.

“Ah, here it is,” he says finally. “‘Magical Burnout In Pregnant Witches.’ The treatment is simple, but crucial.” He looks up at Atlas. “She needs rest. Complete magical rest. No spells, no potion-making, and nothing that could tax her magical core for at least a week.”

Atlas nods solemnly. “I’ll make sure she rests.”

Grizelda stirs in his arms, her eyelids fluttering open. “No,” she protests weakly. “The barrier... The town needs me.”

“The town needs you healthy,” says Atlas firmly. “We’ll find another way to protect Evershift Haven.”

Frost steps forward, his face set with determination. “That’s where we come in,” he says, gesturing to me. “We’ll find the artifacts and stabilize the Heart of Haven. You focus on getting better, Grizelda.”

She looks like she wants to argue, but exhaustion wins out. She nods weakly, then turns her gaze to me. “Be careful. The magic in this town can be unpredictable, especially now.”

I swallow hard. “We will be.”

As Atlas carries Grizelda a few feet away, whispered conversations break out among the townspeople. Frost turns to me, his expression revealing worry and resolution. “We should get moving,” he says. “Time is running out, and without Grizelda to maintain the barrier, who knows what might happen?”

I nod, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in my stomach. As Frost and I prepare to leave, a sudden change in the atmosphere draws my attention back to the Heart of Haven. The ancient oak tree, usually radiating a warm, golden glow, now flickers erratically. Its leaves rustle in distress, despite the lack of wind.

“Frost, look,” I say, pointing at the tree.

He turns, his silver-white braid swinging with the motion. His eyes, now periwinkle, widen. “This isn’t good.”

The tree’s branches wave wildly, as if trying to communicate. Its glow dims further, shifting to a sickly yellow hue. It’s almost as if the tree is reacting to the news of Grizelda’s condition.

“Is it...sentient?” I ask, unable to tear my gaze from the unsettling sight.

He nods solemnly. “In a way, yes. The Heart of Haven is deeply connected to the town and its inhabitants. Grizelda’s illness must be affecting it more than we realized.”

Without thinking, I step closer to the tree. Its distress tugs at something deep within me, an inexplicable urge to offer comfort. I reach out, my hand hovering over the rough bark.

“Evony, wait—” he says, but I’ve already made contact.

The moment my fingers touch the tree, a strange sensation courses through me. It’s like a current of energy, warm and tingling, flowing from the tree into my body and back again. The erratic flickering of the Heart’s glow steadies, if only for a moment. I gasp, pulling away my hand. The connection breaks, and the tree resumes its distressed state, though perhaps not as severely as before.

“What was that?” I ask, flexing my fingers. They still tingle with residual energy.

Frost stares at me, his expression surprised and something else I can’t quite identify. “I’m not sure,” he says slowly. “It seemed like you were able to calm the Heart, even if only briefly.”

I shake my head, trying to clear the fog that’s settled over my thoughts. My ears tingle strangely, and I resist the urge to reach up and touch them. “It must be all this magic in the air,” I say, forcing a laugh. “I’m not used to it. I’m just a human, after all. I’m sure I’ll acclimate eventually.”

Frost opens his mouth as if to argue, then closes it again. He studies me for a long moment before speaking. “Perhaps,” he says, though he doesn’t sound convinced. “We should get moving. Time is of the essence.”

I nod, grateful for the change of subject. “Right. You said we need to go to your shop first?”

“Yes, for the Christmas Star. It’s our best bet for stabilizing the Heart quickly.”

I can’t shake the lingering sensation from my encounter with the Heart of Haven. It felt...familiar, somehow. Like reconnecting with an old friend.

I push aside the thought. There’s no time for such fanciful notions. We have a town to save, and apparently, only until midnight to do it. Still, I linger with Frost, watching the townsfolk debate how to manage without Grizelda. Their voices rise and fall with worry and half-formed plans.

“We’ll need volunteers for the protection spells,” says Sage, his spectacles glinting in the fading light. “I can teach the basics, but it will take several of us working in shifts.”

Atlas, still cradling Grizelda, nods solemnly. “I’ll organize a rotation. We have enough magical beings to cover the essentials.”

“What about the seasonal transitions?” asks Bella, wringing her hands. “Grizelda always oversees those.”

Heather, the mermaid who owns “Mystic Melodies,” and is currently in her fully human form, raises her hand. “I can handle the water-based elements. The lake, the fountains—those should be manageable.”

“And I’ll take care of the plant life,” says the treant, Oakhart, his bark-like skin creaking as he shifts. “The Whispering Woods will help spread the word to the rest of the flora.”

I watch in amazement as the townspeople rally, each offering their unique skills to fill the void left by Grizelda’s absence. It’s touching, really, how this eclectic community comes together in a crisis.

Frost leans close, his cool breath tickling my ear. “We need to go,” he whispers. “Time’s running out.”

I nod, realizing how long we’ve been standing here. We slip away from the crowd, their voices fading as we hurry down the cobblestone street toward Frost’s shop.