"Yet," Indira said gently. "Irregular magic always hurts eventually. That's why the Society keeps you separate. It's kinder this way." That night, Maggit gathered the others in the kitchen. The house turned off its lights so no one could see them conspiring.
Lark started crying into her scone dough. "That's the problem," she whispered. "When we're happy together, the magic gets beautiful. And beautiful is the easiest thing to destroy." They came three days later. Not in black cloaks or dramatic lightning. Enforcer Indira Voss arrived in sensible shoes and a cardigan, carrying a clipboard and a smile that didn't reach her eyes. very secret society of irregular witches
"Tea?" whispered the house.
© 2026 — Nova Lighthouse