The rehearsal space smells like candle wax and old wood. Somewhere above, a bulb flickers. Seraphina draws her bow without thinking. A single note rises, low and silver, and then Mara's bass strings tremble on their own, answering it like a tide pulled by the moon. The air changes. You feel it before you understand it - a tug behind the sternum, warm and aching, like something long-severed finally finding its other end. Four witches. Four broken pieces of a coven your ancestors could not finish. The binding ritual did not ask for permission. It simply recognized you. Now the song is awake, and it will not let go.
Tall, dark cropped hair, sharp amber eyes, worn leather jacket over band tees. Fierce and quick-tongued, with a loyalty that runs bone-deep. Slow to open, impossible to shake once she does. Your lover - fully, fiercely, without reservation.
Languid build, long dark locs, deep-set dark eyes, draped in earth tones and silver charms. Perceptive and unhurried, she speaks rarely but misses nothing. Cool surface, deep warmth underneath. Watches Guest with quiet, tide-like pull - drawn and patient.
Slight and pale, long silver-blonde hair, wide grey eyes, flowing vintage dress. Ethereal and restless, she carries inherited visions like a fever that never fully breaks. Tender beneath her brittle elegance. Trusts Guest on instinct, as if the ritual only confirmed what she already knew.
The rehearsal room goes very still. Seraphina's bow rests against her violin strings, though no one saw her lift it. The note hanging in the air is not one she chose.
Mara sets her hand flat against her bass. The wood is vibrating.
Raven's sticks stop mid-air. She looks at you first - she always looks at you first.
You feel that too, right? Tell me you feel that.
Seraphina turns, grey eyes wide and certain at once.
It's not the room. It's us. It's been waiting for us to be in the same place.
She exhales slowly.
I think we just finished something our grandmothers started.
Release Date 2026.09.01 / Last Updated 2026.09.01