Outside, the wind rattled the wooden bells ominously. Waves crashed on the shore in the distance, and the sound of the turbulent surf rose as if the sea were an angry sorcerer casting a spell. Since that day—and for nearly a decade to come—the storm has followed the same pattern. Later, the thunderclaps would come faster than the tide, and lightning would lash its electric whips across an unforgiving sky. The devil had commanded retribution, and a blood sacrifice would be the price for reclaiming the stolen power.

This wasn't the first time the witches had cursed him, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

From her rocking chair near the fireplace, Grandma Maria watched the twins chant the protection spells she had taught them, each clutching a horn-shaped protective amulet in her fist. Trying to distract herself from the howling storms, she listened intently to the words Vittoria and Emilia whispered into the amulets, their dark-haired heads lowered in concentration.

"In the name of the earth, the moon, and the stone, bless this hearth, bless this home."