Two squibs and a witch (Version 2)

Chapter 3: The First Connection

The rhythmic sound of gravel crunching beneath Jane's boots was the only thing breaking the silence as she approached the secluded cottage on the outskirts of New Orleans. She had arrived after days of travel, the humid air thick with the scent of moss and cypress trees, mingling with the faint notes of jazz that lingered in the breeze. Her heart raced with a mixture of excitement and apprehension, each step bringing her closer to the cousin she had only recently learned about—Amara Vera Jackson.

The cottage itself was modest, tucked away from the bustle of the city. Its weathered wooden façade seemed to belong to another time, as if it had stood watch over the bayou for centuries. A small garden out front was overgrown with wildflowers and herbs, and a wrought-iron gate hung ajar, inviting yet eerily silent. Jane paused at the gate, taking a deep breath, feeling the weight of the letter in her pocket, the letter that had set her on this path. The name Amara felt foreign on her lips, yet the connection between them was undeniable, woven by the thread of their shared bloodline.

She hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering over the wrought-iron handle, her pulse quickening. The thought crossed her mind that this could all be a mistake. What if Amara didn't want to be found? What if she had no interest in the ancient curse or their shared ancestry? But Jane had come too far to turn back now. She had left everything behind—the orphanage, her quiet, mundane life—to uncover the mysteries of her family and find a place where she belonged.

With a final deep breath, Jane steeled herself and knocked on the weathered wooden door. The sound echoed through the stillness, loud and sudden. She stepped back, her hands trembling slightly, clutching the strap of her bag as she waited. For a moment, nothing happened, and she felt a sinking dread in her stomach. Maybe no one was home. But then she heard footsteps approaching, slow and deliberate, the creak of floorboards barely audible through the door.

The door swung open, revealing a woman in her late twenties, her blond curls falling loosely around her face, eyes wide with a mix of surprise and caution. Amara Vera Jackson looked strikingly familiar, a reflection of the same features Jane had seen in old, forgotten family portraits—sharp cheekbones, deep-set blue eyes, and an expression that hinted at a lifetime of questions unanswered.

"Who are you?" Amara's voice was steady but laced with wariness, her gaze scanning Jane with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

Jane swallowed hard, suddenly acutely aware of the weight of the moment. "I'm Jane Velvette Tolans," she said, her voice trembling slightly but determined. "Your cousin." She paused, searching Amara's face for any sign of recognition. "I found out about our family... about the curse."

For a long moment, Amara stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes searching Jane's face as if trying to discern whether she was telling the truth. Jane held her breath, unsure of what to expect. But then, slowly, Amara's expression shifted from suspicion to something softer—an unspoken understanding, perhaps even relief. She stepped aside, opening the door wider.

"Come in," Amara said quietly.

The interior of the cottage was cozy, though it carried the air of someone who lived alone. Piles of books were scattered across mismatched furniture, and the soft glow of candles flickered in the dim light. The scent of herbs—sage, rosemary, and something unfamiliar—hung in the air. Amara led Jane to a small sitting area near the fireplace, where they settled into armchairs facing each other.

For a few moments, they sat in silence, the tension thick between them. Jane fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, unsure of how to begin. Amara, too, seemed to struggle with her thoughts, her fingers tracing patterns along the fabric of her chair.

"I... didn't know I had family," Amara finally said, her voice quiet, as if the admission pained her. "I grew up thinking I was alone."

"I did, too," Jane replied softly. "I only found out about you through an old book—The Chronicles of the Huofeng Lineage. It's part of our family's history. It talks about the curse, the one tied to our bloodline."

Amara's eyes flickered with recognition at the mention of the curse. "I've heard of it," she said, her voice tinged with something darker. "My mother used to talk about it in hushed tones, like it was some family secret she couldn't bring herself to fully explain. But I never understood. I was too young when she... passed."

Jane nodded, sensing the pain behind Amara's words. "The book says the curse is tied to an ancient ancestor, Shuimei Huofeng, a high lady of ancient China who was wronged by a witch. It's said that only someone from the bloodline can reactivate the curse, and... I think that's what's happening to us."

Amara's gaze sharpened, and for the first time, Jane saw a glimmer of the burden they shared. "Do you feel it too?" Amara asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "That sense that something's missing? Like a part of us has been... lost?"

Jane felt a knot tighten in her chest. "Yes," she admitted, her voice strained with emotion. "I've felt it my whole life. Like I don't quite belong, like there's something just out of reach. And now, with everything I've learned... I think the curse is still alive. And it's pulling us toward something—something we need to find."

Amara leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful, though a shadow of worry crossed her features. "I always knew there was more to our family than what I was told," she said softly. "But I never thought I'd actually meet someone who could understand. Another squib, no less." She gave a bitter smile, though it was tinged with a hint of relief. "We were born into this magical legacy, and yet, here we are, on the outside looking in."

"I've felt like an outsider my whole life," Jane admitted, her voice barely audible. "But I think... maybe we're not as powerless as we think. The book, the letter, they're leading us somewhere. We just have to figure out where."

For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of their shared history settling between them. The faint crackling of the fire was the only sound in the room. Then, with a deep breath, Amara reached out, placing her hand over Jane's.

"We'll figure it out together," she said, her voice filled with quiet determination. "You're not alone anymore, Jane."

The words hit Jane like a wave, and she felt a warmth spreading through her—a warmth that felt like hope. For the first time in her life, she had found someone who understood her, someone who shared the same burden and the same quest. Together, they would unravel the mysteries of their family, and maybe, just maybe, they would find a way to break the curse that had haunted them for generations.

With newfound resolve, Jane looked into Amara's eyes and nodded. "Together."