Maggit had spent thirty-two years hiding the fact that her magic came out wrong. Other witches drew perfect circles; her spells hiccupped into jam jars. Other witches levitated; she made things smell faintly of burnt toast. The global witch registry had labeled her "Unstable Variance" and assigned her to a lonely cottage on a tidal island, reachable only six hours a day.
"What if we're not dangerous? What if we're just... different? And what if different, together, becomes something they can't control?" very secret society of irregular witches
"Just their tracking system," Lark said with a sly smile. "For a few hours. Long enough for us to disappear." They performed it at midnight in the conservatory, where moonlight fell in stripes through the overgrown ivy. The house held its breath. Maggit had spent thirty-two years hiding the fact
The house, which had never liked her, played a single note from "Moon River" and locked all its doors. They didn't disappear. They just went irregular. The global witch registry had labeled her "Unstable
"And they won't," Samir said slowly, "because undoing a Binding creates a magical backlash big enough to... what? Destroy a city block?"