Grachi [repack] -

She raised her own hand—and a black, viscous smoke poured from her palm. Anti-magic. The hunter’s curse.

Not a highlight. Not a streak. Full, radioactive, swamp-thing green. grachi

Grachi’s stomach dropped. “You mean… you?” She raised her own hand—and a black, viscous

For two weeks, life was almost normal. Diego Reyes, the cute skateboarder from her chem class, started talking to her—not about magic, but about music and bad TV. Mía, her green hair now hidden under a series of increasingly ridiculous hats, glared daggers but kept her distance. Grachi almost believed she could be a normal girl who happened to have a little extra . Not a highlight

Abuela Elena wiped her floury hands on her apron. Then she lifted a finger. A single, perfect flame danced at her fingertip—a warm, golden flame that smelled of cinnamon and rosemary. Not a threat. A hearth.

“I followed the trail of fried vending machines,” he said, sitting down next to her in the muck without hesitation. He wasn’t scared. His dark eyes were calm. “So. You’re a witch.”

Something hot and defensive flared in Grachi’s chest. “You don’t know anything about me.”