MOONSTONE VALE

Chapter 1: Moonstone Vale

Moonstone Vale was Skyler's sanctuary, the one place where she could shed the expectations of the Jasper Coven and just... exist. The Vale lay hidden at the border between Jasper territory and the Obsidian Circle's dark realm, a twilight zone that both covens instinctively avoided, though no one ever explained why. Dense trees formed a canopy, allowing only fragments of moonlight through, while the hidden pools shimmered with an ancient, almost sentient light. The air here buzzed with a hum of power that sent shivers up her spine, intensifying her spells and making her feel truly free.

Tonight, she knelt beside a moonlit pond, carefully grinding elder leaves into a fine powder to mix with moonstone dust, her focus sharp as she whispered a chant. This ritual required precision, and she didn't need distractions. Naturally, that's exactly what she got.

"Well, well," a deep, mocking voice drawled from the shadows. "If it isn't Jasper's golden girl, out here playing with herbs."

Skyler's hands stilled, her heart skipping a beat as she spun around. A tall figure leaned against a tree at the edge of the clearing, looking as though he owned the place. His silver hair glinted in the moonlight and a lazy, arrogant smirk tugged at his lips. Clad in all black, his whole demeanor screamed "Obsidian Circle." She'd never seen him before, but she knew his type.

Of course. Only an Obsidian warlock would have the audacity to intrude on her sacred space with that .

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, keeping her voice steady despite the irritation bubbling inside her.

He pushed off the tree, strolling closer with the ease of someone who thought the world was his playground. "Just enjoying the view. Didn't know the Vale was exclusive to white witches."

She rolled her eyes, already over it. "It's not, but I'd appreciate it if you enjoyed the view... somewhere else." She turned back to her spellwork, hoping he'd take the hint.

But he didn't leave. Instead, he moved closer, hands in his pockets, surveying her setup with an exaggerated curiosity. "So... white witch spells. I hear they're very... safe," he teased, his tone needling her nerves. "Nothing like the real magic we practice."

Skyler clenched her jaw, casting him a glare. "Real magic? Dark magic is just shadow tricks and cheap curses. Hardly impressive."

His smirk widened, as though her disdain amused him. "Oh, really? I thought your precious Jasper Coven was all about peace and respect."

"We are," she replied firmly. "We don't waste our magic on petty curses."

"Good girl vibes only, I get it." He chuckled, unbothered by her attitude. "Must be exhausting to be so pure all the time." He paused, tilting his head in mock thought. "I'm Noah, by the way. Not that you care."

Skyler raised an eyebrow, giving him a look as dismissive as she could muster. "Correct," she replied coolly, turning back to her spell. "I don't."

But he didn't move. Instead, he stayed close, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that was both unsettling and strangely magnetic. She could feel his stare, like he was dissecting every move she made.

"Skyler, right?" he said, testing her name with a smirk that made her skin prickle. "Skyler of the Jasper Coven, out here gathering moonflowers like a good little white witch."

Her patience finally snapped. "What's your problem, Noah? Did the Obsidian Circle run out of people to annoy, so you had to come here?"

He chuckled, clearly entertained by her frustration. "Believe it or not, I find you... fascinating."

Skyler huffed, shoving her herbs back into her bag. "I'm sure you do. You seem like the type who enjoys irritating people."

"Oh, I do," he agreed, his smirk unrelenting. "But I'm also intrigued. Not many Jasper witches wander into neutral territory alone. Rebellious streak?"

Skyler straightened, meeting his gaze defiantly. "Or maybe I just don't follow pointless rules." She shrugged, trying to brush him off. "Not that a warlock like you would understand."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Oh, I understand rebellion. You'd be surprised at how much I get away with." He leaned in, his voice a near whisper. "Maybe even more than you."

"Is that supposed to impress me?" she shot back, surprised by how much he was getting under her skin. He was arrogant, insufferable, and yet... there was something oddly intriguing about his self-assured attitude.

He shrugged, flashing a grin. "I don't need to impress you, golden girl. But let's just say, if you're looking for a taste of real magic, you're in the right place."

Skyler rolled her eyes. "If by 'real magic' you mean cheap tricks and smoke, then I'll pass."

"Oh, I wouldn't call it cheap," he replied, his eyes glinting with mischief. "But if you're too scared to see what the Obsidian Circle is really capable of, I understand."

Skyler crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. "I'm not scared. I just have better things to do than entertain some warlock with a superiority complex."

"Superiority complex?" He laughed, a rich, low sound. "Coming from the golden girl of the Jasper Coven, that's a bit rich, don't you think?"

Skyler felt her cheeks flush with frustration, but she held her ground. "Listen, I'm done here. Feel free to enjoy your 'real magic' somewhere far away from me."

She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her in her tracks.

"See you around, Skyler."

There was something in his tone that felt almost like a promise, and despite herself, a tiny thrill ran down her spine. She hated that feeling, hated the thought that he might think he'd gotten under her skin, even for a second.

Without looking back, she walked away, her heart pounding with a mix of irritation and something else she didn't want to acknowledge. There was something about that smug warlock. His arrogance, his jokes, his total disregard for boundaries. He was everything she couldn't stand, and yet... he was also everything she couldn't shake.

As she left Moonstone Vale, her mind drifted back to his infuriating smirk, the way he'd said her name like it was a challenge. And as much as she tried to brush it off, one question lingered at the edge of her thoughts—a question she hated herself for wondering: Would she see him there again?

And maybe, somewhere deeper, a part of her hoped she would.