The sound wasn’t wood or glass—it was her bone, snapping in the air between us. Violet light erupted from the grandmother’s chest like shattered glass, throwing her backward into the dirt. Her pouch of moonpetals burst open, petals scattering like dying stars.

The grandmother gasped, her body jerking as if yanked by invisible chains. Her eyes flew open wide, terrified and for a split second, they glowed the same sickly violet as Margaret’s tracery. Blood trickled from her nose, then her ears, as she crumpled to her knees.

“Grandma!” I lunged forward, catching her before she hit the floor.

Malcolm was at her other side instantly, his hands gentle but...