Page 29 of Christmas with a Cursed Werewolf

I lean forward, intrigued. "What about you? Are you an arcanist too?"

She shakes her head with a gentle smile. "No, human. But I've learned a lot over the years to keep this place thriving."

"And once the curse is gone?" I ask, a hint of hope threading through my voice.

A soft smile touches her lips, but a shadow of longing lingers in her gaze. "I'll get to go home. Hopefully, my husband and other children haven't moved on without us."

I reach over, placing a hand over hers—a small gesture of solidarity. "It will work out."

"I hope so," she replies, her voice steady yet filled with emotion.

I nod, returning to my task, but her words resonate within me, echoing deep thoughts I’ve been wrestling with. There’s more mystery than concrete facts surrounding us. We’re all holding on to the hope that this curse will lift before Frostspire Keep dies, taking everyone with it.

And then there's the realization that my magical journey is just beginning. The path ahead is still shrouded in mystery despite the groundwork we've laid. Though I’ve begun to understand the basics of magic, I can feel there’s far more waiting to be revealed.

A deeper mystery lingers, just outside of reach. I can almost sense Ember's presence, guiding me toward this knowledge, urging me to trust in the magic that flows within and around me.

I plan to dive into learning more with Ember's help after this all is over. Because I don’t fully grasp what being an arcanist means or how it connects to the whirlwind of emotions tearing through me.

What does it mean to belong to this lineage? What power does it hold?

As I ponder these questions, I can’t shake the feeling that every revelation is tied to my search for my birth mother. With each layer of magic peeled back, I wonder if the connections will lead me closer to her.

I’m certain that in time, I will know more—more about myself, about the Nexus, and about the intricate web of magic that binds us all. It's a journey I’m ready to embark on, but first thing's first.

Rurik's arrival.

I watch as the herbs come alive in my hands, their colors sharpening, the scents bursting forth more vividly. There's a sense of urgency in our work, each charm a shield against the darkness that Rurik brings. I can’t ignore the flicker of fear that accompanies that awareness, but I force it down, channeling it into my hands instead.

"We'll need more than charms," I say, reaching for the fresh herbs. "Rurik won't be stopped by sage and string."

"No," Alistair agrees. "But every layer of protection helps." He picks up one of my finished charms, examining it closely. "These will strengthen the castle's natural defenses. Combined with your magic and Ronan's..."

He trails off, but I understand. Everything we do now is preparation for what's coming. The air thrums with anticipation, like the moment before lightning strikes.

I work faster, letting instinct guide my hands. Each charm feels stronger than the last, infused with my determination to protect this place—to protect everyone I've come to care about.

"The west tower still needs attention," Giselle says, gathering up an armful of completed charms. "I'll start hanging these while you finish the rest."

I nod, already reaching for more herbs. The afternoon light slants through the windows, painting everything in shades of amber and gold. Time is slipping away too quickly.

As I begin another charm, I can’t help but glance toward the tall windows, where the fading light washes the castle in hues of deep gold and crimson. Each minute passes, building toward the inevitable night, where every charm hung will serve as our first line of defense. The air buzzes with the excitement of magic being woven into the very fabric of Frostspire Keep.

The energy is palpable as I feel the pulse of Ember surrounding me, guiding my every weave and knot as I work beside Giselle and Alistair. It’s not just the herbs we’re preparing; it’s the very essence of the castle, and by extension, the lives that dwell within its walls. I let the knowledge settle over me like a warmth, letting it sustain me as I push through the urgency of our preparations.

A shadow passes the window—one of the wolves on patrol. Their presence is constant now, circling the castle grounds in an endless vigil. I catch glimpses of them between tasks: dark shapes moving through the snow, alert and watchful. Their silent strength offers a comforting reminder that we’re not alone in this fight.

Looking out at the snowy expanse, I realize how the Christmas season feels almost forgotten amidst the chaos of our preparations. The twinkling lights hanging along the eaves of Frostspire Keep shimmer like stars against the darkening sky, a stark contrast to the weight of the curse that looms over us.

But our lives have become entwined with the spirit of the season, providing some relief from the oppressive energy that holds us captive.

Once we emerge from this darkness, I swear I will celebrate Christmas with more vigor—after all, it was this season that brought me to Ronan.

The warmth of those memories stirs something deep within me, reminding me that love can bloom even in the coldest of winters. That’s something I’ll never forget.

Each flicker of light and the promise of joy give me hope, that this will be over soon.

The next charm comes together almost on its own, my fingers working while my mind drifts to Ronan. He's been coordinating with the pack all day, strengthening our outer defenses. Every time I sense him nearby, the castle's magic pulses stronger.

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