Page 69 of Stolen Magic

We laughed, we argued, we healed. And during my darkest moments when old fears and insecurities emerged I almost fled.But he always found me—sometimes with words, sometimes with silence, always with that aching gentleness it took me a long time to believe I deserved and was worth fighting for.

Over the course of a year, we built something fragile but real—not forged by titles or duty, but by long walks in the garden, by late-night tea, by hours in the library poring over maps and magic tomes. We discovered each other slowly in stolen kisses beneath ivy trellises, in letters tucked between alchemy notes, in quiet conversation—not as a prince and a vengeful witch who were former enemies, but as two people daring to believe in a shared future. He had loved me before memory, and he chose me again after. This time, there were no spells or lies, only truth.

Our story didn’t erase the past, but from its ashes, we had built something new. It wasn’t easy, but it was ours. Somehow, impossibly, it led to this moment I never imagined would belong to me. I still struggled to believe that not only had Callan chosen me, but the king had agreed to our union after Myrona agreed to honor the treaty if Callan married the nation’s most powerful mage instead of its princess.

The king had only granted us his blessing after I completed the first stage of my apprenticeship and proved myself and my magical capacity before the court—not with perfection, but with persistence and integrity. I had made mistakes, and each time I learned and made amends. And now, I would take my vows not just as a bride, but as a mage, a woman no longer bound by vengeance, but carried forward by love.

I stood on the balcony of my chambers that I would leave today, as I moved into the royal rooms I’d share with Callan. The sunlight brushed a sheen of gold across the courtyard below, where garlands of wildflowers adorned every archway and balustrade. It was the kind of day Mother would have loved—the air heavy with blossoms and sun-warmed stone, clear and full of promise.

I rested my hand on the smooth marble and closed my eyes. I could feel her, not just in the whispers of magic that stirred the breeze or the memories I kept tucked safely in my heart, nor even in her magic I’d finally unlocked that now resided within me, but in something quieter and deeper, a stillness that felt like peace. I knew she was proud, no longer watching from beyond with the sorrow I had once imagined, but rejoicing in her daughter’s newfound happiness.

Once, I had walked these corridors draped in borrowed silk, a living lie. Today, I wore truth layered over scars I no longer hid.

Myst, in her shimmering feline form, sat beside me with her tail curled neatly around her paws. Over time, we’d formed an unexpectedly deep bond—one that only deepened the day she revealed what she truly was. From the moment I met her, I’d felt an odd sense of familiarity, and now I understood why.

Long before her death, Mother had brought Myst into being through a complicated, costly spell—a creation of magic and sentience. Fearing a future in which she might not be there to protect me, she crafted a familiar to watch over me, especially if my magic were ever sealed, leaving me vulnerable to the mages who might one day seek me.

For years, Myst had observed from the shadows, remaining hidden until she was ensnared by one of Eldoria’s traps. Only then did she allow herself to be visible to me, sending out a magical signal to draw me to her. From that moment on, she had sought to fulfill her purpose by guiding me and protecting me not only from malevolent forces, but from what she considered the greatest threat to my purpose: my growing feelings for Callan.

But everything changed the day I freed Callan and Gwen, inadvertently breaking the curse sealing my powers. With my heart no longer ruled by vengeance and her duty to protect me fulfilled, Myst became more companion than guardian. Herform grew more material as well—visible not just to me, but at times even to Callan and a select few, if she felt in the mood to be seen.

The cat who had once regarded me with aloof silence now sought me out to bicker over magical theory or smuggle spellbooks from the royal library, yet her favorite pastime seemed to be teasing Callan; she loved nothing more than to materialize in front of him and startle him. He pretended to be annoyed with her antics, yet more than once I’d caught him stroking her fur when she allowed herself to be seen; with each interaction, I could almost swear she smiled.

She watched me now with eyes full of emotion I hadn’t known familiars could feel, akin to parental tenderness. “Ready?” she asked softly.

I nodded once, and we made our way downstairs, followed by Melodie and the other attendants who’d grown dear to me over the past months. Slowly the doors opened. The hall stretched before me, filled with Eldorian subjects I had once hated, but whom I had deliberately chosen to see differently, and with time, even love.

My gaze found Gwen first, waiting at the front, her face radiant with joy on my behalf. She had insisted on helping me dress that morning, laughter mingling with her tears as she wove moonflowers into my hair. We were no longer bound by duty or rivalry, but something deeper—sisterhood.

Though she would one day soon return to her homeland, Gwen had remained by my side throughout the past year, navigating the delicate tangle of diplomacy between our two kingdoms. With Callan’s unwavering support—often in direct defiance of his father’s wishes—he negotiated tirelessly to ensure that our union would not only unite hearts but heal lands. As part of the peace he orchestrated, Gwen would return to her homeland with a portion of the magic I’d spent months carefullygathering, a gift now accessible to me through my bond with Callan. It would not be enough to undo every wound, but it was a beginning that we’d fought for together. Today, Gwen stood beside me not as a princess, but as my dearest friend whom I hoped to write to and visit often.

My gaze moved past her to settle on dear Callan, waiting at the altar with a smile meant only for me—the kind that softened everything sharp and healed all that felt broken inside me, reminding me to believe in happy endings.

As I walked towards him, the past fell away—layers of pain and vengeance and masks worn too long, until all that remained was the woman who had fought to endure and had chosen love.

When I reached him, he offered his hand, and I took it. His fingers tenderly enfolded mine, warm and familiar, creating in me the sense of finally, after all these years spent wandering, coming home.

He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Are you ready?”

I smiled. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

He leaned close, resting his forehead against mine. “I love you,” he murmured.

I whispered the tender sentiment back, the words settling inside me like roots finding rich soil. Today, I would begin a new life—not born from fire or grief, but from hope, healing, and a love I had fought to earn. I couldn’t wait to step into that future…together.

The vows we exchanged weren’t just spoken aloud but in private language known only to us—they lived in the glances we shared, the way our fingers remained laced even when ceremony didn’t require it, the quiet squeezes of our hands, every smile. When the priestess finally declared us bound, Callan leaned in and kissed me—not just as a prince or a husband, but as the man who had seen all my brokenness and chosen to love me still.

I kissed him back, choosing to believe it. Because somehow, after everything, I finally did.

After the initial ceremony, we made our way outside, followed by our guests. Pausing on the terrace, I took a tiny crystal vial from a chain around my neck. I tightened my grip on my husband’s hand and glanced at my mage tutor, who had spent the past year helping me to develop my particular power—the magic that had begun the tale of heartbreak across kingdoms years ago…and the one that was the reason I stood here today.

At her nod, I uncorked the bottle, watching the orange-red magic swirling within, the product of countless hours of patiently collecting and distilling the flame-lily’s enchantment. Slowly I lifted the vial above my head, taking a moment to notice the magical strain all around me, the fight to preserve an appearance of verdancy and beauty in a dying land.

Then I upended the vial, spilling the magic out in a swath and sending a wave of my own violet power to mingle with it, entwined with threads of Mother’s magic. With a burst of sparks, the magic collided and arced far out of sight above us, following the magical paths that encompassed the world and renewing the life force of Eldoria.

Long after the sparks faded, Callan and I stood there as the guests gradually returned to the grand hall, which was now lined with tables of food, interspersed with vases of violets. We finally made our way back inside and moved from person to person, accepting their well wishes and their thanks for the renewed magic. Though it was every bit the fairytale spectacle, I had a quieter, more romantic story in mind.

Callan and I slipped away long before the final toast. His fingers brushed mine as we passed beneath the ivy-covered archway into the garden that had become our sanctuary, back when I was still a girl in borrowed silks and sharpenedlies, hiding behind masks I’d once believed I couldn’t survive without.

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