But as she raised the glass, the lights flickered. The TV turned on by itself. On the screen was a live feed of her own office—except it was empty, yet every drawer was open. Papers flew in circles.

A distorted voice, Julian's but layered with something ancient, echoed from the speakers: "You wanted magic, Ava? Abracadabra."

Her stock portfolio? Abracadabra. Gone. A glitch wiped it clean.