In the end, I broke down and Googled directions to the address on the black card. It was a public event space that anyone could book, but apparently it was the once a week gathering spot for a crowd of local witches, too.

The venue was more of an empty warehouse with a few tables, a bar for food and drinks, a kitchen space, and an open floor area for dancing. It wasn't fancy by any means, but it was decently well-outfitted, and the space was clean.

I dressed in all black for the occasion, sporting my usual combat boots and fishnet tights, high-waisted shorts fraying at the edges that emphasized my curves, a crop top, and a thin, flowing sweater. I pulled my hair into a basic ponytail just to keep it out of the way. Casual, but still following at least pseudo-expected witch dress code.

My arm was wrapped up like a mummy's limb. Even though it was much, much more healed than before, it still had a long way to go. I hoped it made me look tough and angry, but it probably just looked concerning where it peeked out from the sleeve of my sweater.

By the time I arrived, plenty of other people were already there, talking and dancing and eating. I didn't see Calen anywhere at first, but I did see an interesting array of people talking.

If I adjusted my sixth sense, I could turn up or down the visibility of the Threads around me, and they tended to say more than anyone ever did by mouth. Among the groups of people talking, there were certainly witches. Even the bartender was a witch, and that was probably for the best considering that discussions seemed to revolve around magic and Sylvan society.

The odd part, though, was that witches seemed to be discussing Sylvan society... with... Sylvans?

There weren't many, to be fair. Thanks to the twisting, neon red Thread snaking around one tall man, I could tell immediately that he was a vampire. Teo werewolves with tangled silver Threads chatted quietly in the corner as I passed, and waved amicably when I nodded hello. I'm certain I could have picked out more Sylvans in the crowd if I tried, but it might give me a headache in the process to sift through so many threads.

The more important question was why Sylvans were at a meeting about witch rights in the magical community, especially after those attacks I'd read about. It seemed odd, even concerning to see them here, but they clearly weren't violent. On the contrary, everyone looked quite relaxed.

I was trying to calculate when might be a good opportunity to walk over and join the conversation when I heard a voice call out behind me.

"Sunday! You made it after all."

I whirled around to see Calen standing behind me, a wide smile on his face.

"Hi!" I waved a little awkwardly, my voice probably a bit too cheery to sound normal. Thankfully, he brushed it off, cool and calm enough for both of us.

"Have a seat. I'll bring us some drinks."

"But—"

Aaaaaand... he was gone. I didn't even have time to protest.

Well, I'd come here to talk to Calen, so at least I'd found him. Sighing, I took a seat at one of the long tables and waited for him to come back. Around the room, the little groups of people I'd observed upon entering had shifted. It seemed like most everyone knew everyone else, and a few of them waved amicably at Calen while he wove his way through the crowd to come back towards me, drinks in hand.

"How much do you know about this world?" he asked, placing two glasses of red liquid down on the table. It looked something like a vodka cranberry, but I made absolutely no move to touch mine. I wasn't stupid— taking drinks from strangers was an easy way to get into trouble, and fast. Instead, I stirred the glass with my straw as we talked.

Well, maybe Calen wasn't a complete stranger, but I still wanted my wits about me.

"About witches?" I asked, blinking. "I grew up in a witch family. I'm familiar."

Familiar enough to know there were soul mates, and that he was mine. Some feral part of me wanted to stamp something on him, to let everyone know exactly what was happening between us, but that would make very little sense and probably scare him off. Instead, I forced myself to focus.

Some witches were born into unsuspecting families, yes. Power sometimes skipped generations and showed up at strange times, generations down the family line, so occasionally a witch stumbled into our world without knowing what they were getting into. I was not one of those. I was raised by my mother and grandmother, both witches themselves.

I knew exactly what I was getting into. I also knew exactly why I'd decided to mostly keep my head in the sand and stay out of matters of the larger magical community.

... However, that was before a fireball hurtled through my shop window. That was why I was here, I reminded myself. I needed to know who had tried to kill me, and more importantly, why they had tried to kill me.

"So you're aware of the treatment of witches by the magical community at large?" Calen continued.

"I'm aware," I said with a snort.

"What would you do if I told you that we are working on a way to liberate witches? A way to bring back what we've lost?"

"Is that why there are Sylvans here?" I asked, gesturing to the vampire I'd spotted earlier.

"How did you know?" Calen asked, frowning.

Shit. Um.

I couldn't really tell him "Yeah, his Threads totally give away his ancestry as well as how he's connected to the rest of the universe, and while we're at it, why are yours so weird?"

Calen didn't know about my Threads, and I wasn't about to tell him. That was one of my core rules, and I wasn't planning on breaking it any time soon. I already paid the price for that one before, and I was happy to never, ever worry about that again. The chaos that usually ensued after people learned about my ability to literally change Fate itself with a flick of my finger wasn't worth the weight off my chest. I'd carry that niggling, gnawing secret forever if it meant no more memory wipes, no more people trying to manipulate me...

And Calen couldn't know, either.

He might be my soul mate, but soul mates could still run from that connection. The last thing I wanted to do was scare him, or even worse, accidentally hurt him with the knowledge. In time, I could tell him. Once we were solidly in love and knew each other like the backs of our hands, once we cemented that soul mate bond, then he could know. Not now.

"Flash of fang," I said with a shrug, hoping I didn't sound too much like I was lying.

"Hmm. They're usually careful around newbies," he muttered, but seemed to shrug it off. "I hope you're not afraid. They're on our side."

"Our side?" I asked, eyebrow raised. "What side is that, exactly?"

"The side of equality, of course," Calen said, taking another sip of his drink. "They believe, like we do, that witches deserve to be acknowledged among the Sylvan community. Until now, we've been ignored."

"You're telling me to start singing Les Mis?" I deadpanned, sighing. I was certainly glad that they weren't planning a coup, but while it sounded nice in theory, I wanted more details.

I had no problem with the fight for equality and acknowledgement. What I had an issue with was that I didn't know Calen's methods. However attractive he might be— and he certainly was attractive— I had no clue what he was specifically planning. I needed information, and preferably soon.

"Come on now," he urged. "Wouldn't you at least like to have witch representation on the Council?"

Now that was appealing, I couldn't deny.

The Sylvan Council ruled over all beings who could use True Magic, working hand in hand with the Sylvan King, a family of magical royals who generally kept the peace among magic users. Or tried, at least. "Sylvan" was a broad name that encompassed many kinds of beings within the community, but they were all magical, and none were witches. Of course, the Council had their own rules regarding Sylvan interaction with witches, and they ranged from "only interact when necessary" to "they are less than the dirt on your shoes."

It was a wide range, to say the least.

Witches were magic users, yes, but they were energy manipulators. A witch could only use what was provided for them, push it in different directions, and siphon magic from other sources. Witches didn't create magic. Power wasn't in their bones and blood like it was for Sylvans. It was just an extra energy we could use, almost like a sixth sense or an invisible extra limb.

As such, there were certain things that witches could or could not do, and for the most part, that made Sylvans either very suspicious or very hostile.

Now, I could certainly admit that I had a few good-natured Sylvan customers. Typically, if a Sylvan was desperate enough to come to a witch to get what they want, they wouldn't be overly aggressive, either. But knowing that witches have no representation in the Sylvan Council despite their magical abilities, knowing that intermarriage is all but explicitly forbidden, and knowing that it's likely I would be chased out of a Sylvan village with pitchforks if I tried to live there... it made a girl a little twitchy.

"Okay. Talk to me about Council seats. What's the plan?"

"Some of our Sylvan supporters are already lobbying for us with the Council," he said calmly. "We're hoping to get a hearing together with the Council and the Sylvan Royals to discuss witch representation."

"How long do you think that might take?" I kept stirring my drink without taking a sip, but I had to admit that his plan was convincing. If he wanted to lobby and protest, maybe even argue a case to the Sylvan Council, I could get behind that.

"Not certain, but we're making headway."

"How?" I asked, eyebrow raised. "Who are the Sylvan supporters?" It would take powerful voices to sway the Council enough to even consider a hearing. Sylvan voices were one thing. Sylvan voices with the power to sway the Council were an entirely different matter.

"Well, I could tell you now... or we could discuss it over dinner. Saturday?" Calen smiled.

I blinked, blindsided. That wasn't the response I was expecting.

I couldn't say I disliked it, though. There was a little flutter in my stomach at the insinuation, and I couldn't stop myself from smiling just a little, especially considering that strange magnetism I'd felt back in the shop. I could still feel it here, too, inexplicably drawing us together in a way that felt warm and inviting.

And... and the Thread between us, though I was actively trying not to look at that. It made me a little nervous to see a bond so strong with someone I barely knew. It felt strong, too, and the more I stared at it, the more—

Stop, Sunday.

Calen tilted his head at me, taking a slow sip of his drink as he stared me down. I could almost see myself reflected in his dark eyes, and I was sure I was blushing.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked suddenly, reaching across the table to put his hand over mine. Normally I might shy away from a touch like that, but something about it felt grounding, balancing. It was like the music and the other people in the room just... disappeared for a moment.

I pressed my lips together and nodded, my eyes locked on his face.

"I like you. I find you intriguing, and I think you're tough," he said, nodding at my wrapped arm. "Not to mention gorgeous, but I wasn't going to lead with that."

"Where... is this going?" I asked carefully.

"Well, as I said before, I'm hoping it's going towards you and I having dinner together," he said with a shy smile. "Maybe drinks after. Dancing, if you're feeling bold."

The soul mate bond was there, and it was strong. No doubt he felt it, too, without even needing to see the Threads that I could see, pulling us together in an unbreakable way. The braided cord between us spoke of a connection so strong it was unavoidable.

I was okay with that, too. Rather than feeling stifled, I felt like I finally had some security. I was able to let myself feel because I understood where we were going, where it was heading between us, and that we were meant to be here.

"I want to take it slow, if we can. I want to do this right, even if... we know," Calen said, reaching out for my hand. His fingers on my skin felt practically electric, humming with an energy that made the Thread between us practically purr.

"I..." Taking a deep breath, I turned my hand around under his so that our palms were pressed together. "I would like that."

Dinner. Slow. Fast. Everything. It was all fine with me.

I was thirty years old, and I could count on one hand the number of people that had asked me out on a date before. I didn't think I was horribly unattractive, but I was a little blunt and a little oblivious, and that track record hadn't worked out well as far as dating.

This, though... this felt natural. This was an undeniable magnetism. Calen was kind, levelheaded, and he wanted to help the witch community— and hey, I'd have at least one date to keep questioning him. A guy who knocked me out of the way of a fireball couldn't be too terrible, right? He was my soul mate for a reason. Surely that meant his intentions were good.

And... Well, It didn't hurt that he was almost painfully handsome, either.

I was walking on air as I left the warehouse.