The second hint something's wrong in a town that pretends its magic is perfectly under control? A hex mark on your front door. It showed up overnight-burned into the wood, smelling faintly of sulfur and sage. Just another Tuesday in this charmingly cursed town. But when fires start flaring in places they shouldn't-like the potion storeroom, the town bakery, and my actual hair-it's clear someone's stirring up more than trouble. Potions are misfiring. Tempers are flaring. And my dragon-possibly-cat just declared war on the broom closet. Add in a string of magical house fires with no clear cause, a missing charm-maker, and a long-buried feud between coven members that no one wants to talk about, and suddenly my quiet apothecary life is going up in smoke. If I don't unravel the truth soon, Willowbark's cozy little hearths won't be the only thing burning. Because in this town, old magic doesn't die quietly-it explodes.
