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Coups de cœur Cultura
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PROLOGUE: A Smudge of Ink
Growing up in Fayete meant being watched, but never seen.
In a town of pristine witches where natural hair and unmarked skin were the standard, Devila Black was a smudge of ink on a clean page. With her long blue hair and skin mapped in tattoos, she was the "weird" girl—the one mothers pulled their children away from at the General Store.
But the townspeople didn't just fear her look; they feared the atmosphere that followed her.
Since she was a child, the mist had been her only constant companion. It didn't just roll in from the Grey Woods; it seemed to exhale from her very skin. It was a mix of raw magic and shadow that reacted to the heavy silence of her isolation. For twenty years, she had kept it contained—a small, occasional fog that clung to her boots like a secret.
She lived on the edge of town, tucked between the judgmental eyes of Fayete and the dangerous silence of the shifter borders. She was a loner by necessity, waiting for a spark she didn't know she was missing.
She didn't know that the "pull" was coming. She didn't know that meeting Cameron and Vera wouldn't just give her friends—it would act as an amplifier, turning her quiet fog into a storm.
The third power was waking up. And the shadows were finally starting to whisper back.
