I made my way to the town hall to meet up with Elias and the Pembrookes, wondering how the land disputes played into Thomas's death.

The imposing stone structure of the town hall stood at the heart of Llyncroft. Old oak doors guarded its entrance, carved with scenes and images. I wondered if they represented stories of the history of Llyncroft.

Pushing over the heavy door open, I stepped inside the Town Hall. The musty scent of age-old documents filled my nostrils. Passing through the entrance hall into the library, I found myself in a large room lined with shelves packed with records. I wondered how far back in time they went, noticing that many records were yellowed with age.

The land register, that's what I needed. A comprehensive document that detailed the ownership of every piece of land in Llyncroft. As I found the thick, dusty tome marked 'Land Register', a familiar chill sweep through the room. I turned to see Fiona Ravenshadow, surveying the room. Her gaze fell on Gideon Winters, who was hunched over a table on the far side of the room.

Fiona moved towards him.

"Ravenshadow," Gideon greeted her tersely, not taking his eyes off her. His shoulders were stiff, and he reminded me of a boxer bracing for an impact.

"Winters," Fiona replied, echoing his tone.

I watched, struck by their contrasting energies. Fiona moved like smoke, her essence seeming to seep into every crevice and shadow around her. On the other hand, Gideon stood firm and grounded like an iron statue.

"Gideon," Fiona said. "I appreciate your concern for the village, but the antiques store, it's important to me."

Gideon narrowed his eyes, picking up a ledger. "It's not the store, Fiona," he growled. "It's what you're doing with it."

Fiona raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be?" she asked.

Gideon pushed off the table, towering over her. "Dark magic," he said.

I gasped. I had heard the village whisper about Fiona's strange abilities, but to hear it spoken out loud was shocking.

Fiona didn't flinch. "Is it dark magic," she said, "or is it just magic you don't understand?"

Gideon bristled. "It's magic that's not meant to be," he said.

Fiona folded her arms. "And who says what is 'meant to be'?" she challenged.

Gideon's jaw clenched. "The earth," he said. "And I can feel its pulse as clearly as I feel my heart beat. It's not happy with what you're doing."

Was he right, did Fiona cause the earthquake?

Fiona looked at him for a long moment before speaking. "Maybe," she said. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop. The store, the magic, it's part of me, Gideon. Someone like you would do better to keep out of things which do not concern you. For your own safety."

With that, she turned and left the room, leaving Gideon and I stunned silence. I watched as Gideon's shoulders slumped as he took a deep breath.

He acknowledged my presence with a head nod. I hadn't been sure he'd seen me.

"I can't concentrate on this," he said, indicating the ledger in front of him. "Do you fancy getting out of here and grabbing a coffee?"

I hesitated, wanting to learn about land disputes, but Gideon seemed to need a friend.

We headed to the little bakery Marcus and I had visited. Gideon pointed to the beautiful knife the baker was using to cut the cakes. "That's one of mine."

"I love your work," I said. "It's incredible how you can take a piece of metal and turn it into something so beautiful."

Gideon shrugged. "It's about knowing the material and getting it to do what you want."

I nodded. "I guess it's kinda like what I do with plants," I said. "I have to understand what they need and how to look after them."

Gideon looked at me. "I guess so."

"Gideon, I was in the town hall looking up the land registry. Have you heard about the argument between Geraint Miller and Alun Davies over that piece of land?"

Gideon looked puzzled. "I've heard something about it."

"Do you know why it's so important to them?"

Gideon was silent for a moment, staring into his coffee. Then he looked at me. "It's complicated, Evie," he said. "One that's rooted in old grudges and secrets."

I looked at Gideon. "In what way?" I asked.

He sighed and looked resigned. "The land in is said to have a rich vein of arcanite running through it."

"Arcanite?" I said. "What's that?"

"It's a mineral with specific properties that enhance magic."

"And for blacksmiths, can you use it?" I said.

Gideon smiled. "Yes," he said. "Arcanite can be used to make things magical. But it's tricky. You need to be careful with it. If it gets too hot, the magic is lost. If it's not hot enough, the arcanite stays dormant."

I imagined Gideon at the forge, working the magical mineral into his creations.

"But it's not just about making magical things," he said. "It can enhance a blacksmith's work. It makes things more potent."

"I see," I said. "So this isn't just about who owns the land, it's about who controls the arcanite?"

Gideon nodded. "Exactly."

We walked back to Willow Grove Inn. The conversation flowing easily in the hot mid afternoon sun, and we could hear the sound of birds and the constant lapping of waves.

"Thanks for the coffee, Gideon," I said. "Thank you for listening, it means a lot."

Gideon looked at me. "You're welcome, Evie," he said. "I'm glad I could be here for you. It's important to have someone to talk to."

As we approached my front door, I noticed something strange. There was a glint of silver against the warm oak of my door.

"I can't believe it, that's one of mine," said Gideon, pointing to the Damascus blade holding a piece of parchment to my door.

I shivered as I reached out to remove the knife, but stopped. What if Gethin could get fingerprints off it or something?

I pulled the parchment free.

"What does it say?" Gideon asked, peering over my shoulder.

It was a letter. A threat.

My heart raced as I read the spiky writing. I could feel Gideon's eyes on me, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Keep your nose clean. Dead men tell no tales."

The threat hung heavy in the air.

I looked at the knife. Once beautiful, all I could see was a deadly weapon.

"Evie," Gideon said, placing his hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. "I'm fine," I said, my voice unsteady.

He looked at the knife. "I remember making this," he said. "I never thought it would be used for something like this."

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