Family is supposed to protect you, not hunt you down.
The Mother Coven isn’t blood, but they’ve lost enough members to band together in the deadliest time for Magics in countless years since the Puppeteer decided he had unfinished business—hunting down every last remaining Magic in our bloodline.
But the Puppeteer isn’t the only one trying to end us.
The pressures of war shift us all into combat mode. I’m an emotional wreck trying to process layers of family secrets, developing both sets of my powers, and trying to navigate what my heart truly wants.
Hiding out shut down any hope of preserving a normal life. My psych degree falls further away, as does maintaining non-magic friendships, or even a crappy job.
Sacrifices for victory are expected. No one asked for this, and nothing prepared us for what we still needed to lose in order to win.