The baby kicked.

  Anne pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling the flutter of movement. Five months along now, and showing. Hope and Garett were excited about having a new sibling. Scott was terrified.

  So was Anne.

  Because this baby had magic. Strong magic. Anne could feel it growing stronger every day, could sense the power coiled inside her womb like a sleeping dragon.

  And strong magic meant danger.

  She'd started having the nightmares again. Green fire above the cottage. Bodies on the floor. Charlotte's empty cradle.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Only now, in the nightmares, it wasn't just Charlotte who was gone. It was Hope and Garett too. And Scott. And the baby.

  Everyone she loved, taken by Garka's curse.

  Anne woke gasping most nights, Scott's arms around her, his voice murmuring reassurances she didn't believe.

  "We should leave," she said one morning over breakfast. "Go somewhere else. Somewhere farther away."

  "We've been over this." Scott's voice was patient but firm. "Running won't help. If this Garka is as powerful as you say, he'll find us eventually. Better to stay here, where we have friends and community."

  "Friends and community won't protect us from dark magic."

  "Maybe not. But they'll help us survive it."

  Anne wanted to argue, but Hope chose that moment to spill her milk, and Garett started crying because his toast was cut wrong, and the moment passed.

  But the fear didn't.