It's been a year since Caleb found himself back in New England, at Harvard for his first day of law school. Three years older, no time has passed, and the last thing in the world he wanted in that moment had been to become a lawyer and pretend like he wasn't a witch. Nothing in him wanted to pretend that everything in Duplicity hadn't happened, that he hadn't practiced magic daily, hourly, each minute of every day. That he hadn't belonged to a coven of men he ached to see again, who he missed dearly, and who he trusted he might one day see again.

If he could find the way to work magic again without it killing him.

He'd quit school, drawn out money from his account, and after explaining to the other he needed to find time to make sense of some things, he headed out. He wouldn't get their hopes up that maybe, one day, he might find a way for them to all live a long life and practice magic while they did it.

If he found answers.

A grimoire from centuries ago lead him to Germany and then to Romania and then to Italy. Time and again a name kept coming up. Katinen. A witch known as far back as Rome, as far as he can tell. One who not only practiced magic for centuries, but who didn't seem to age. One outside of a curse like his family's own.

He's talked to Stregas and wiccans and dark practitioners. He's been open and obvious, and hoped that maybe, just maybe, if this Katinen was still around that maybe, just maybe, Caleb could draw him out.

Maybe.