Lark handed her a scone. "It's protection. When Irregulars love, their magic gets... loud. The Society can track loud. And then they separate us."
"Always."
The Binding took. Not with a bang, but with a sigh. very secret society of irregular witches
She stood on the doorstep, clipboard hanging at her side. Lark handed her a scone
Inside: You are not broken. You are just irregular. very secret society of irregular witches
Inside, the house unfolded like a secret. Hallways appeared only when she turned her head. A grandfather clock ticked in reverse, counting down to something. And in the kitchen, three people sat around a scarred oak table, looking at her like she was both a miracle and a disaster.
"What if the Society is wrong?" she said.