Sophrayni's Quiet Hunt Chapter 7.

Chapter 7.

 

Into danger.

         

The manor’s receiving room was dimly lit, its velvet curtains drawn tight against the afternoon sun. Wilgan stood near the hearth, dressed in court finery that looked too polished for a provincial post. His smile was practiced, his posture relaxed—but he didn’t belong here. Not in Burnock. Not in a town this quiet.

Sophrayni had never heard his name mentioned before, and yet here he was, speaking as if he’d always been part of the furniture. She stood silently, hands folded, her cloak unmarked but her presence unmistakable. Sophrayni recognized her immediately—not a copy, but the source. The original. The template.

“You’re the traveller they brought in,” Wilgan said, voice smooth. “From the inn.”

Sophrayni nodded, keeping her tone neutral. “Passing through.”

Wilgan glanced at the woman. She gave the faintest nod.

“You chose a strange time for it,” he continued. “Burnock isn’t exactly welcoming these days.”

Another glance. Another nod.

Sophrayni let her gaze drift between them. Wilgan was speaking, but not leading. The woman’s silence was louder than his words.

“I’m tasked with keeping order,” Wilgan said. “And you—whoever you are—have arrived without notice.”

Sophrayni smiled faintly. “I didn’t know I needed permission to walk into a quiet town.”

Wilgan’s jaw tightened. He looked to the woman again. This time, she didn’t nod. She simply stared.

Sophrayni felt the pulse of magic—not from Wilgan, but from her. Dense, deliberate, and old. Not like the magic she had found in the copies. Something deeper.

“You’ll remain here tonight,” Wilgan said. “For observation.”

Sophrayni nodded. “Of course.”

She didn’t resist. But she was already watching the woman more than the man. Sophrayni felt confident that her disguise was holding. There had been no obvious recognition of her true identity.

As the guards turned, Sophrayni glanced back. The woman hadn’t moved—but her eyes followed. Watching. Measuring.

The guards led her to the room they called a “guest chamber.” The door had iron hinges on the inside and a lock that clicked far too loudly. Sophrayni didn’t resist. She sat on the edge of the narrow bed, listening to the footsteps fade.

She wasn’t alone.

In the far corner, half-shadowed by the slant of evening light, sat a girl—maybe twelve, maybe fourteen. Her clothes were plain, her hair tangled, and her eyes... alert. Too alert.

Sophrayni watched her for a moment. The girl didn’t speak, but she didn’t move like the others. No glaze in her eyes. No slow, synchronized gestures. She blinked at normal speed. She breathed like someone who still had choices.

“You’re not under it,” Sophrayni said quietly.

The girl didn’t answer. But she didn’t deny it either.

Sophrayni leaned back. “How long have you been here?”

The girl shrugged. “Since they came.”

“Why aren’t you like the others?”

Another shrug. “I don’t drink the tea after the first time.”

Sophrayni’s eyes narrowed. “The tea?”

“They give it to everyone. Say it helps with sleep. Makes people calm. But it smells wrong. I stopped drinking it. Pretend to sip. They don’t notice. It didn’t work on me the first time anyway. Now I just send the stuff away and fill the cup with water and drink that. All they see is the empty cup.”

Sophrayni nodded slowly. Interesting that the potion hadn’t worked on this girl. More interesting still that she could swap it for water without being caught. That took instinct. Maybe even magic.

“What’s your name?”

The girl hesitated. “Tess.”

Sophrayni smiled faintly. “Well, Tess. I think we’re about to become very useful to each other.”

Sophrayni sat still, but her senses stayed alert. Tess hadn’t moved from her corner, but her gaze hadn’t wavered either.

“You’re not from around here,” Tess said finally. Her voice was soft, but steady.

Sophrayni smiled again. “That is true.”

Tess tilted her head. “You’re not who you look like.”

Sophrayni’s fingers paused on the edge of her sleeve. “What makes you say that?”

“I see through things,” Tess said. “I see people differently. Like they’re wearing stories instead of clothes.”

Sophrayni blinked. That was not a child’s answer. That was instinctive magic.

She kept studying her. The girl’s eyes were clear, sharp. Not just resistant—aware.

“You’re the Witch of the Dark Forest,” Tess said. “Not the one they talk about in whispers. A different one.”

Sophrayni didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

Tess leaned forward. “Why are you here?”

Sophrayni whispered the searching spell—not aloud, not with words, but with intention. A thread of magic slipped from her chest, curling through the room like smoke. It brushed against the walls, the lock, the air... and then Tess.

The girl flinched. “You’re casting,” she said, voice low. “You don’t trust me.”

Sophrayni opened her eyes. “You felt that?”

Tess nodded slowly. “It tickled. “It poked around inside—like a thought that wasn’t mine.”

Sophrayni studied her. The spell had returned its answer—not in words, but in resonance. Tess wasn’t just resistant. She was touched. Not powerful yet, but threaded with potential. The kind that could grow wild or wise, depending on what shaped it.

“You have witchcraft in you,” Sophrayni said softly.

Tess didn’t react. “I thought maybe. Things happen when I get scared. Or angry. Or when I want something too much.”

Sophrayni leaned forward. “Has anyone taught you?”

“No one knows,” Tess whispered. “I don’t think they’d like it.”

Sophrayni smiled faintly. “They wouldn’t. But I do.”

She paused, studying Tess more closely. “You know,” she said quietly, “you could make yourself very popular with Wilgan and that woman if you told them who I am.”

Tess sucked air through her teeth. “I’d rather swallow nettle thorns than speak to either of them.”

“Good,” said Sophrayni. “Now I need to know what’s been going on here. Please sit down and talk to me.”