It's been three years since I escaped the witches. I'd finally started to think I was free, that I could make up for the things they made me do by helping other novices escape. That I could start a new life, despite the past that haunts me. 

Then they called my blood again. Now all I can think about is finding out who did it--and why--before those old ghosts raise their heads.

And if facing the witch that did it kills me? Better that than live in fear.

"Thief of Smoke and Sorrow"

by Levi Jacobs