A Witchy Rescue

Havermouth, Present Time

Aislen could hear people yelling and screaming above the ringing of her ears and the crackle of flame. There was a crash of something collapsing into rubble. She had been tossed like a ragdoll by the magical explosion of the combination of the Mer Sirens’ power and Leighton’s into the doorway of one of the shops, the solid bases of brick and tile sheltering her even though the bay windows had cracked and shattered inwards.

The smoke was thick catching at the back of her throat so that she coughed, tears streaming down her face, her eyes stinging and her lungs straining for air. She could see through its drifts that the buildings closer to the bridge were all burning, the flames licking the sky.

Everything ached. She had landed hard on her hip, knee, and elbow from the pain that radiated from each point. She sat up slowly and groaned as the baby within her reacted, the surface of her stomach tightening, and the sensation of pressure downward increasing. She lean