Shadows cypher, p.1
Shadow's Cypher, page 1
part #1 of Stonebridge Witches - Book Four Series
Shadow’s Cypher
Stonebridge Witches - Book Four
Nicole R. Taylor
Shadow’s Cypher
(Stonebridge Witches - Book Four) by Nicole R. Taylor
Copyright © 2024 by Nicole R. Taylor
All rights reserved.
This book is written in British/AU English.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
www.nicolertaylorwrites.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
NEXT: SHADOW’S RECKONING
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About Nicole
Chapter 1
Beneath a sky bruised with gathering storm clouds, the quaint town of Stonebridge lay nestled in the heart of an impossibly green valley, made up of forests, lakes, and patchwork villages.
June Morgan stood on a footpath on the outskirts, watching the brewing clouds that promised a heavy dose of late spring rain, an unsettled breeze ruffling her blonde hair.
It took little to put her on edge these days. After the messy business with the Shadow’s Embrace—the rare and powerful plant that’d taken over the forest and tried to corrupt the coven—she’d been looking over her shoulder. Someone was out there, manipulating events, stirring dark magic, and putting people’s lives at risk, working with the same darkness that’d killed her parents.
And now they were waiting for her magic to grow so she could be claimed as well. For what dark purpose, she didn’t know, but there was a battle looming, one that she had to be ready for…no matter what.
June’s fingers traced the wrought-iron gate before her, its cool touch a silent reminder of the next threshold she was about to cross. Beyond lay Harry’s secluded cottage, surrounded by layers of protective wards, invisible to the untrained eye but detectable to those sensitive to magic. The garden was a tangle of thorny rosebushes that were in dire need of pruning, and a lawn that’d seen better days.
I bet Lydia could whip this place into shape, she thought, pushing through the gate. She smiled at the memory of her friend, and herbalism teacher, knowing she was thriving since she’d lost her voice to the Shadow’s Embrace. Her sacrifice hadn’t dampened her spirits at all, which was something to aspire to.
The door to the cottage swung open before June could knock. She let out a little squeak and blinked up at Harry. She’d only met him once before, though she’d seen him around since, but she’d completely forgotten how tall and intimidating he was. He had to be at least six foot three, with broad shoulders, short black hair that was streaked with grey, and a perpetually stubbled jaw.
She felt her cheeks heat and almost looked away, but his sharp green eyes met hers, an unspoken conversation passing between them. There was curiosity there, perhaps at the raw potential he saw within her, yet tempered with a wisdom of someone who’d been through a lot of his own battles.
“June,” he said, his deep voice rather soothing. “Come in.”
She stepped across the threshold, her heart leaping at the sight of the small study Harry led her to. Shelves groaning under the weight of books lined the walls, their spines a mosaic of faded colours and gold lettering. Artefacts of every kind cluttered the room, each whispering tales of ancient spells and long-forgotten enchantments.
“Mind the crystals,” Harry advised as June carefully moved around a precariously stacked pile of tattered notebooks. She glimpsed shimmering stones atop an oak desk, their facets catching the slants of sunlight that pierced through the dirty windows.
June approached the desk, cautiously reaching out to touch a vibrant amethyst that pulled at her senses. As her fingers grazed the cool, smooth surface, a jolt of energy surged up her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
“Careful,” Harry said. “Those crystals are more than just decorative. They’re imbued with energies that can react unpredictably to untrained hands.”
June withdrew her fingers quickly, feeling a tingling sensation still dancing along her skin. “Sorry,” she murmured, clasping her hands together.
“It’s fine,” he went on. “I like to tinker with spells. Especially ones I’ve learned from other covens.”
June’s interest sparked. “Other covens?”
He nodded. “Stonebridge wasn’t my first port of call. I spent a lot of my younger years travelling from one part of the world to another.”
This revelation widened June’s eyes. “So you’ve learned from witches in other places? Other cultures?” Her voice was tinged with a mixture of awe and excitement.
“Yes,” Harry confirmed, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Each coven has its own traditions, its unique spells and rituals. The coven here, well, it’s a bit different from others I’ve encountered. Stronger bonds, deeper secrets.” Harry’s gaze drifted to a thick book on the far shelf as he spoke, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “I learned a great deal during my travels—magic that strays a bit from the norm. If you could call it that.”
“Where have you been? What kind of magic? I heard there are witches in Mexico who—”
“Take a breath, June.” Harry chuckled and moved the amethyst out of her reach. “Before you can run off to the other side of the world, you have to learn to walk first. And walking in the world of warding begins with understanding the basics, which is why we’re here.” He gestured toward the walls of his study, where faint glimmers of light danced just beneath the surface of the plaster.
“Your home is warded, I take it.” That’s how he knew she was there before she could knock.
“Thoroughly,” he replied with an understated pride. “Warding isn’t just about protection. It’s about creating a sanctuary. It’s the art of weaving magic into barriers—barriers that shield us from those who wish to do us harm.”
“Yes, like the wards the coven renews every Yule.” June nodded, her mind racing with questions. “How do you make these barriers strong enough to block dark forces? Because the Shadow’s Embrace could grow past them.”
“Intent and knowledge,” Harry explained, picking up another small, angular crystal from his desk. “Each ward is layered, like pages in a book. You infuse them with your will, your desire to protect. But you also need to understand the elements you’re working with—the symbols, the materials, the incantations. It’s a delicate balance. One loose thread and any witch can unravel hours of work and leave you vulnerable.”
June knew about unravelling complicated spells, including the ward Alistair had placed on the hidden room in Fortune’s Books. The same room where the shadow entity had been imprisoned for who knew how many centuries. All she’d had to do, was find the loose and and pull. Anyone could do that.
“Could I see one of yours? A ward, I mean. Is it possible to make it visible?” June asked, her fingers itching to take notes. “I’ve helped make shields, but no wards other than the part I had in the Yule rituals.”
“Watch carefully,” Harry instructed. He reached out, tracing an intricate pattern in the air. The gesture seemed to pull at the fabric of reality, as if drawing back a curtain.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, a shimmering veil appeared along the wall—a tapestry of woven light pulsating gently with a rhythm that felt alive. June’s breath caught as she observed the ward, its beauty beyond anything she’d imagined.
“Notice the patterns,” Harry said. “They’re specific to my design, but the principles are universal. You must find your own style, your own signature, when you craft wards.”
“Patterns, like a tapestry. And what about the materials? How do you choose them?”
“Each element has its own resonance,” Harry began, replacing the crystal on the desk. “Some, like quartz, amplify energy. Others, like amethyst, cleanse it. You must select them based on the space and the type of protection you seek.”
June’s gaze travelled over the cluttered room, taking in every detail—the crystals, the books, the artefacts. “Like the clearing in the woods Lydia showed me. The haven the coven goes to when the glade isn’t safe. The sigils on the trees and the different crystals at their roots…”
“Yes. Each has a unique purpose that works in harmony with all the other crystals and sigils in the array. But remember that warding is more than just setting up defences. It’s about understanding the energies at play, and how best to harmonise with them.”
She nodded, absorbing every word. Stonebridge needed her to learn this, to become skilled at weaving protections that could keep the darkness away from innocent people. At least until she was ready to face it for the first, and last, time.
Harry’s words echoed in her mind as she walked around the room, her fingers brushing against the cool surfaces of different crystals. She felt their vibrations, their energy. It was a lot to take in, but she was determined. She had to understand, had
“Can we try making ward from scratch?” she asked. “I’ve only added to others before.”
Harry nodded, a trace of approval lighting up his eyes. “Absolutely,” he agreed. “Creating your own ward is a fundamental skill, and the best way to truly understand the nuances of this craft. Let’s go outside.”
June followed Harry into the garden, where the wildness of the thorny rosebushes hummed with latent magic. An old statue, a weathered cherub whose smile had faded through years of neglect, stood hidden underneath a layer of scaly lichen.
Harry gestured to the area around the statue. “This spot has always been a bit troublesome, energetically speaking. A perfect place for you to set your first ward.” He stepped closer to the statue. “Place your hands like this,” he instructed, demonstrating an intricate series of motions with his fingers. “Feel the flow of your magic and spin it into the ward.”
She mirrored his movements, her fingers tracing the air around the stone figure. It felt like weaving threads only she could feel, pulling at the strands of power that danced on the edge of her senses. June’s brow furrowed as she concentrated, trying to remember the exact flick of Harry’s wrist, and estimating the precise pressure of his touch against the unseen.
“Slowly,” he said. “It’s not about speed or force. It’s about intention and harmony. Wards are a complicated matter and not made for haste.”
“Is there an incantation to seal it?”
“If you want there to be.”
Her brow furrowed, her hands pausing mid-spell. “What do you mean, if I want?”
“Words aren’t important, June,” Harry reminded her. “Didn’t Alistair teach you that?”
“He did, but—”
“The rules of magic aren’t finite—they can bend within reason. There isn’t one way of doing things, as you must already know. Lydia, for example.”
June bristled. “What about her?”
“She doesn’t need words to practise magic…and neither do you.” He had a point.
She returned her attention to the cherub, feeling the energy shift and swirl around the statue, the invisible barrier she’d begun to weave thrumming with potential.
“Can you sense it?” Harry asked, his presence looming beside her.
“I think so,” she replied. She opened her eyes and watched as Harry picked up a small crystal—a clear quartz—and handed it to her.
“Place this at the base. It will anchor the ward,” he said. “Until then, it’s just a web of magic that can easily be knocked out of place.”
Her hand trembled slightly as she bent to place the crystal on the grass, her fingers brushing the stone cherub’s cold base. As she withdrew her hand, a faint shimmer in the air caught her eye—the ward taking hold. “Did I do it?”
Harry examined her work, prodding the web around the statue with his finger. “Yes, you’ve established a basic protective circle. Clumsy, but decent for a first attempt.”
“Clumsy?” She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. There was no time for clumsy, not when an unknown assailant could attack her and the coven at any time.
“Every witch’s first ward is clumsy. It’s the persistence to refine your craft that defines you,” he assured her. “And from what I’ve witnessed and heard, you’ll have no trouble catching up.”
He motioned for her to sit on a weathered bench beside the garden path, shaded by the leafy boughs of an old elm tree. June brushed off the seat with her hand before settling down, her mind still focused on the ‘clumsy’ ward she’d just created.
“Thank you,” she said, “for showing me.”
Harry joined her on the bench, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun was making its slow descent. “Warding is more than just spells and crystals. It’s an art that has saved many lives—including mine.”
June turned to look at him. “Your life?”
“More times than I care to count.”
“Is that why you returned to Stonebridge? To escape those forces?”
“Escape? No.” Harry shook his head slowly. “You can never really escape such things. But in Stonebridge, there’s hope.”
“Hope?” she scoffed. “There always seems to be another calamity around every corner in this place. I’m just waiting for the next dark magic attack.”
“Yes, that’s the nature of places like this. Magnets for mystical activities, crossroads for the unseen world. This town draws darkness like a beacon, but it also has a strong spirit.”
June absorbed his words with a frown. The coven needed her to be ready, and she would not let them down. She thought of the way the Shadow’s Embrace had grown underneath the town, bypassing the wards the coven cast and wreaked havoc unchallenged.
“Will you teach me more advanced wards?” she asked, envisaging the crystalline structures she was learning to build. “The kind that can protect us from what’s out there?”
“In time. Wards are complex. They take years to master,” Harry replied. “But yes, I’ll teach you everything I know. That’s the point.”
June nodded, watching as the late spring sun began its descent, scattering golden hues across the tangled garden. The shadows beneath the elm elongated, and the air cooled as if it echoed their conversation.
“You’ll learn that each ward you cast carries a bit of your essence,” he went on. “That’s what makes them so potent—and so personal.”
“I’m finding the more complex the magic, the more of myself has to go into it,” she mused. “There has to be a point where it gets too much, right?”
“There’s always that risk,” he admitted. “The balance between giving too much and keeping enough back for yourself is a fine line. That’s why balance is crucial. You must learn to give and take, to draw on your power without letting it consume you.”
June lowered her gaze, her thoughts moving to the darkness waiting in the deep woods. It wanted her magic, just like it’d wanted her parents, and the unknown witch that was working with it… When the time came, she’d have to be ready to wield enough power, or be willing to let it consume her in order to defeat the ultimate evil. If she faced it today with her clumsy ward, she’d be toast.
“Now,” Harry said, drawing her out of her gloomy thoughts. “Homework. Your first task is to set a basic ward around your flat. It’s essential you practise.”
“Will it be strong enough?”
“For now, yes. But we’ll work on strengthening it. It’ll be a ward that can be added to over time, and rewoven until it’s complex and personal. Then only you will be able to unravel it.” He handed her a small pouch filled with various crystals. “Use these and study their properties. I’ll show you more complex configurations in our next lessons.”
“Thanks.” She peered into the pouch and saw small pieces of raw clear quartz, amethyst, selenite, and black tourmaline.
“Don’t forget to keep your grimoire updated.”
“I won’t.” She brushed her fingertips over the smooth and rough surfaces, each crystal humming faintly with its own unique energy. Then she took a deep breath, feeling the thrum of life around her and within her. “Harry?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Do you think the witch is one of us?” she asked. “The witch who’s doing all those rituals in the woods?”
Harry was silent for a long moment as his brow furrowed. “I’ve been thinking about that,” he finally murmured. “Ever since you and Lydia defeated the Shadow’s Embrace, there’s been an unsettling shift in the energies around Stonebridge. A shift that feels like a warning, more than a threat.” His frown deepened. “It’s possible that they may be affiliated with the coven in some way, yes. But a rogue witch, disillusioned or tempted by darker promises, might also align with those forces.”
“But what would they gain by helping the darkness?”
