THE SALT CIRCLE

THE SALT CIRCLE
Point of View: Tessa

I woke up with the sun—not that I’d slept much to begin with.

Sleep had been more of a cruel joke than a comfort. The sheets felt too soft, the pillows too perfect, and everything about this room screamed of elegance and control. It wasn't mine. Nothing here was.

Something had kept me awake.

Restless energy curled beneath my skin like storm clouds gathering. I kept tossing, turning, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ares’s face—dirt-smeared, bruised, tired… but still hiding a part of himself I couldn’t reach. The way he looked when the man—Tristan—called his name still echoed in my head.

I needed to know he was okay. But that wasn’t what today was about.

Today, I had to meet the queen again.

They knocked on my door before the sun had even fully stretched its light across the sky. A maiden, the same one who had attended me yesterday, entered with her usual softness and quiet eyes. She said the queen awaited me in the grand hall for something… important.

When I asked about Ares, she only said he was training.

Typical.

They dressed me in a light gown, something ceremonial—white, with silver runes stitched across the sleeves. There was magic woven into it. I could feel it prickling against my skin like static. I hated it.

I didn’t want any of this.

Did I need it? Yes.
Did I want it? That was a much harder question.

I wasn’t a witch. I was a thief. I was a survivor. My magic had only ever stirred in moments of fear—when I had to protect myself or Ares. It wasn’t controlled. It wasn’t… mine.

But they were determined to make it mine.

The grand hall was massive and far too quiet when I stepped into it. Morning light streamed through the tall stained-glass windows, throwing fractured colors over the polished floor. In the center was a wide circle made of white salt and what looked like ash. Strange symbols curved along the outer lines—ones I didn’t recognize.

Queen Arabella stood at the far end, dressed in dark violet robes with silver thread coiled like vines across the hem. Her posture was perfectly straight, regal, and cold.

Beside her stood an old woman I hadn’t seen before—slim, hunched, her silver hair twisted into a long braid that trailed down her back. Her skin was the color of old parchment, eyes sharp despite their age. She held a thick leather-bound book clutched to her chest.

“Come forward,” Arabella commanded.

I obeyed, each step slow, hesitant.

She nodded to the circle. “Stand inside.”

My feet stopped right at the edge. “What… what is this?”

“A binding circle,” the old woman said before Arabella could speak. Her voice was low and cracked, but there was power in it—like dry leaves whispering secrets in the wind.

Arabella looked at me. “You need to understand what lives inside you.”

“I don’t—”

“Stand inside the circle, Tessa.” Her tone left no room for refusal.

I swallowed, heartbeat thick in my throat. My boots crunched lightly against the salt as I stepped into the center. The moment I crossed into the circle, I felt it—a shift in the air. Something ancient stirred. Like the room was holding its breath.

The old woman opened the book and began to chant.

I didn’t understand the words, but I recognized the language.

It was old. Powerful. Something I had heard only in snatches when my father used to speak behind closed doors with strange visitors. A tongue that was never taught but always feared.

Goosebumps erupted across my arms. My breath fogged slightly in front of me as the temperature dropped.

When the chant ended, a faint shimmering wall rose around the salt circle. It glittered—almost beautiful—but there was weight in it. Like standing in the center of a storm just before lightning struck.

Arabella raised her chin. “Cross it.”

I blinked at her. “What?”

“Leave the circle.”

“I… I don’t think I can.”

“You must try.”

I glanced around. No one else in the hall moved. Not the guards. Not the old woman. Not Arabella. Just me. Surrounded.

I took a deep breath and walked toward the edge.

The moment I reached the boundary, something slammed into me.

It wasn’t physical—not a wall I could see or touch—but a force. It hit me like wind from inside my own chest, pushing me backward. My knees gave out and I landed hard on the floor.

“What was that?” I gasped.

The old woman’s eyes were already watching me. Studying me.

She leaned slightly toward Arabella. “She’s marked.”

“Marked?” I echoed. “By who?”

The woman looked at me with something almost like pity. “You are surely his descendant.”

I stared at her, throat dry.

“Whose?”

Neither of them answered.

Arabella stepped closer to the circle. “Tessa… your magic, your very blood—it’s bound to something ancient. That’s why you couldn’t summon power before. It only responds when threatened. When pushed.”

“This was a test?” I snapped.

“This was a confirmation.”

I stood shakily. “Of what?”

The old woman looked at me for a long time. “You are descended from the bloodline of a great witch. One whose name is no longer spoken openly in Mistefell.”

The shadows in the room felt deeper suddenly.

“I’m scared,” I admitted.

Arabella’s face softened—for just a breath. “Good. Fear means your heart still listens. But you must learn, Tessa. You don’t have a choice anymore.”

“What does this mean? For me?” I asked.

The queen was quiet for a long time before she answered.

“It means the magic inside you is dangerous. It must be trained. Controlled. Because if left untamed, it will burn you from within.”

I shivered.

“I didn’t even want to be a witch.”

Arabella’s eyes locked with mine. “Then you will suffer. Because magic doesn’t care what you want, only what you are.”

My heart twisted, thinking of Ares—how calm he’d looked when we arrived, how he was now forced to train like a weapon. He hadn’t asked for this life either. But maybe… maybe we were both marked.

By fate. By blood. By powers older than our will.

Arabella turned away, and the old woman followed.

As they reached the edge of the grand hall, Arabella paused and asked, without turning around:

“Do you love him?”

I froze.

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

I didn’t know.

I didn’t know what this thing between me and Ares was. A bond? A burden? Something wild that tethered us together in the dark? He made me feel safe—and yet unsafe. Like the truth would hurt if I ever spoke it aloud.

I remained silent.

And Arabella said nothing more.

The barrier around me flickered, and the light within it began to dim.

Whatever this was… whoever I was…

It had already begun.