The storm had passed, and the village had returned to its usual quiet, peaceful rhythm. Briar, still recovering from her elemental ordeal, was grateful for the calm. Her garden was flourishing, the plants thriving in the post-storm atmosphere, and for the first time in weeks, Briar felt like things were truly under control.

But as Briar should have learned by now, peace never lasted long in her world.

It started as a normal morning. Briar was tending to her garden, humming quietly as she pruned some of the unrulier vines that had started creeping toward the vegetable patch. Myrtle had promised to meet her later for tea, and Briar was looking forward to a quiet afternoon of rest.

That was when the crow arrived.

Briar noticed it out of the corner of her eye—a large, jet-black bird perched on the garden fence, watching her with an unsettling intensity. Its glossy feathers shone in the morning sun, and its sharp beak gleamed like polished onyx. Briar frowned, wiping her hands on her apron as she straightened up.

"Where did you come from?" Briar muttered, eyeing the crow suspiciously.

The crow cocked its head, its dark eyes fixed on her. There was something strange about the way it was watching her, as if it were more than just an ordinary bird. Briar had spent enough time around magical creatures to know when something was out of the ordinary, and this crow definitely wasn’t normal.

She took a cautious step forward. "Shoo. Go on, get out of here."

But the crow didn’t move. Instead, it let out a low, raspy caw that echoed through the garden, sending a shiver down Briar’s spine. She froze, her heart skipping a beat. There was something in that caw—something almost… human.

Before Briar could react, the crow launched itself into the air, flapping its wings with a sudden burst of energy. It circled the garden once, twice, and then dove straight toward Briar, its beady eyes locked onto her.

Briar ducked, her hands flying up to shield her face, but the crow veered off at the last second, landing on the ground just a few feet away from her. It stared at her for a long, tense moment, and then, to Briar’s utter shock, the crow began to change.

Feathers shimmered and shifted, bones cracking and reforming as the bird morphed into something else entirely. Within seconds, the crow was no longer a bird, but a tall, cloaked figure standing before her, its face hidden beneath the hood of a deep, black cloak.

Briar’s heart raced as she scrambled to her feet, her hands shaking. "Who—who are you?"

The figure lowered its hood, revealing a pale, sharp-featured face with eyes as dark as the crow’s feathers. The man—if he could be called that—smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

"Forgive the dramatic entrance," the stranger said, his voice smooth and cold. "I find that crows are an efficient means of travel."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Briar took a step back, her mind racing. This was no ordinary visitor. She could feel the magic radiating off him, dark and powerful. But she had no idea who—or what—he was.

"What do you want?" Briar asked, her voice steady despite the fear creeping up her spine.

The man tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Straight to the point, I see. I like that." He took a slow step forward, his gaze never leaving hers. "I’ve heard much about you, Briar Thorncroft. The witch with a garden full of secrets."

Briar’s stomach twisted. "Who are you?"

The man’s smile widened. "My name is Calder. Let’s just say I have… an interest in witches like you."

Briar’s heart pounded in her chest. This wasn’t good. Calder’s presence felt wrong, like he was an intruder in her world—something dangerous and unpredictable. She had never heard his name before, but the way he spoke, the confidence in his voice, made it clear he wasn’t someone to be taken lightly.

"I don’t know what you think you’ve heard," Briar said, her voice firm, "but you’re not welcome here."

Calder chuckled softly, the sound sending chills down Briar’s spine. "Oh, I’m not here to cause trouble, my dear. Quite the opposite, in fact." He paused, his gaze flicking to her garden. "You’ve done impressive work with the elements. Restoring balance is no easy task, even for a seasoned witch."

Briar’s breath caught in her throat. How did he know about the storm? About the elements?

Calder took another step closer, his dark eyes gleaming. "I’ve come to offer you something, Briar. Something… extraordinary."

Briar’s mind raced. She didn’t trust this man—didn’t trust his dark, slick presence in her garden—but she couldn’t ignore the curiosity tugging at the edges of her mind. "What are you talking about?"

Calder smiled again, his lips curling into something that might have been charming if it weren’t so unsettling. "Power, of course. Magic beyond what you can even imagine. You’ve only just begun to scratch the surface of your abilities, Briar. I can help you unlock your full potential."

Briar’s heart raced. Power? Her magic had grown stronger, sure, but the idea of more power… more control… was tempting. But she knew better than to trust someone who appeared out of nowhere with promises of greatness.

"I’m not interested," Briar said, stepping back. "I’m doing just fine on my own."

Calder’s smile faded, and his eyes darkened. "Are you? You nearly tore the elements apart with your little experiment, and you think you’re in control?" He shook his head, his voice softening, almost mocking. "You have so much to learn, Briar. I can teach you. Together, we could achieve things beyond your wildest dreams."

Briar clenched her fists, trying to steady herself. His words struck a nerve—she had struggled with her magic, made mistakes, and part of her wanted to know how much more she could do. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that Calder’s offer came with a heavy price.

"No," Briar said firmly, her voice stronger this time. "I’m not interested in whatever you’re offering."

Calder’s eyes narrowed, his gaze turning cold. "You’re making a mistake, Briar. I don’t offer my assistance lightly."

"I don’t need your assistance," Briar said, her heart pounding in her chest. "And I don’t need your power. Now, get out of my garden."

For a moment, Calder said nothing. The air around him seemed to grow colder, darker, as his eyes bore into hers. Then, slowly, he smiled—this time, the smile was sharp, dangerous.

"Very well," Calder said, his voice soft and venomous. "But remember, Briar Thorncroft, I always get what I want. And sooner or later, you’ll realize that you do need me."

With that, Calder turned, his cloak swirling around him like smoke. In the blink of an eye, he transformed back into the crow, his black wings beating the air as he took off, disappearing into the sky.

Briar stood there, her heart racing, her mind spinning. Calder’s words echoed in her ears, and though he was gone, the weight of his presence lingered in the air. She had no idea who he was or what he truly wanted, but one thing was certain—this wasn’t the last she would see of him.