One: Amulet's Reckoning

Everly pushed through the throng of patrons in the bustling saloon, the air thick with mingling scents of oil, sweat, and the sweet aroma of spiced whiskey. Her heart raced as she spotted the flickering glow of the amulet, its energy pulsing to the lively beat of the band. The main floor was alive with steam-powered instruments, but all she could focus on was her brother.

Once again, Damian had removed the amulet from the safety of her jewelry box, eager to tinker with it amid the mechanical melodies from clockwork fiddles and the rhythmic clatter of piano keys that filled the room. If only he understood the peril that came with this little game of his. As the brass horns blared and the bass thumped through the floorboards, she finally caught sight of him—Damian—grinning foolishly, his eyes glazed with intoxication. He was utterly oblivious to the dark shadows creeping closer, tendrils of chaos snaking through the dimly lit room.

Waiting too long to recover the amulet could spell disaster for everyone present. With a deep breath, Everly surged toward the table in the corner. Just as she reached it, a dark tendril lashed out from the amulet, inches from Damian's unsuspecting face. He couldn't see the shadows—only those possessing Faith magic could.

“No!” she shouted, redirecting her aim and lunging to protect her brother. She collided with him, knocking them both to the ground, just as the tendril hissed past. It struck the wooden stage instead and sent a shockwave that rattled the glasses on the tables. The music ground to a sudden halt. Although shadows swirled, it was clear that no one sensed danger was afoot. To them, it was merely a break in the performance.

Another tendril lashed out, catching Everly in the shoulder. Pain flared, fire igniting her nerve endings, but she pressed on, her fingers wrapping around the amulet’s hot surface. The heat warmed her palm through the leather of her fingerless gloves, the magic within surging as she fought to regain control before it consumed them both.

The dark magic coiled into Everly’s veins, curling through her blood like a living thing. She sucked in a breath, feeling the ancient power sink its claws into her—a predator catching its prey.

“Get back to the house!” she urged through gritted teeth, her eyes fierce as she locked gazes with her brother.

Damian’s eyes grew wide. He hesitated, but the urgency in her voice spurred him into action. He bolted toward the exit, leaving Everly to face the gathering storm alone.

Magic frightened those who did not understand it. In the Iron Frontier and the other three regions of Embervale Territory, practicing magic was a crime punishable by death. Thankfully, Hollow Creek was a remote town far west of the region, where residents kept to themselves, avoiding any trouble that might attract the attention of the Justiciars. But if anyone learned of the amulet’s true nature, they wouldn’t hesitate to turn on Everly.

The amulet flared brighter, casting eerie shadows around Everly, and she realized her biggest threat wasn’t the town—it was the ancient power threatening to tear her world apart. With unyielding resolve, she began to chant sacred words from her grandmother’s teachings, weaving her Faith into the air.

As the words spilled from her lips, the atmosphere thickened with energy. The dark tendrils hesitated, momentarily retreating, but not before they gripped her heart with a chilling touch. If she wasn’t careful, the shadows would pull her soul into the amulet along with them.

Everly envisioned a barrier of light surrounding her, the protective shield Grandma Destiny had taught her to conjure in times of danger. Drawing upon the strength of her Faith, she lifted her hands, letting warmth radiate from within. The crackling air turned warm, and the crowd collectively sighed—blissfully unaware of the battle raging around them.

The foreign words flowed from her lips in a beautiful melody, fierce and lovely all at once. As the song rose, the shadows began to dissolve, leaving behind a shimmering residue that danced in the air like fireflies. The crowd, captivated by the spectacle of sound, sensed something extraordinary without grasping the true nature of what was happening.

Finally, the shadows receded. The atmosphere hummed with the pleasant tingle of relief, and Everly tucked the amulet away. She turned toward the exit, her heart racing not just from the adrenaline of the encounter, but also from the confrontation that awaited her. She needed to explain to Damian the dangers of what he had taken and the cost of their family’s legacy—a truth she had guarded since their grandmother died a year ago. It was time to reveal the magic behind the Cunningham heritage, for if she didn’t, they might repeat this perilous mistake, and she could not risk that.

A familiar voice cut through the tumult, sharp and insistent—it was Rhett, forcing his way through the jostling crowd. Damian’s closest friend, the man who always seemed to have one foot ready to chase trouble, was closing in. She couldn’t let him see her like this—not with her sleeve growing heavy, the hot trickle of blood slipping past her wrist.

She swallowed the pain, locking it behind a mask of calm as she took a measured step toward the saloon doors. Two gamblers burst into a quarrel at the nearest card table, their curses cutting through the noise like a whipcrack. She used the surge of their shoving match to vanish from Rhett’s line of sight. By the time he discovered the damage the amulet had left behind, she would already be gone.