Zane~
The moment Natalie and Jacob vanished before my eyes—just like Maeron had—it was like someone had tossed gasoline onto a bonfire.
The hall detonated into pure chaos.
Shrieks erupted like fireworks, piercing the air with raw panic. Somewhere in the madness, someone cried out, "She's a witch!" — and that's when the real witches in the room bristled. You could feel it — a sudden pulse of offended magic, quiet but furious. To them, being a witch wasn't an insult. It was power. Legacy. Identity. And now people were flinging the word around like it was something dirty. As if calling Natalie a witch explained away the fear in the room. As if being a witch was something shameful.
