Page 59 of Claws for Celebration
"Perfect," he said, and she could feel his satisfaction through their mate bond. "Now layer the barrier magic on top of the foundation. Remember, construction rather than destruction."
The barriers that formed around them shimmered with a different quality than her previous magical efforts. Where her panicked defensive spells had been crude walls of raw power, these felt elegant and sophisticated, designed to protect rather than simply repel.
"I can feel the difference," Moira said with wonder, studying the intricate patterns of light that danced around the bookstore. "It's not just stronger, it's smarter. Like the magic understands what we're trying to achieve."
"Because it does," Elena said from where she'd been observing their practice session. "Blood magic channeled through a mate bond doesn't just amplify power, it amplifies intention. Your conscious desire to protect rather than destroy is becoming part of the spell structure itself."
"Which is exactly what we'll need for the dimensional banishment," Twyla added, entering the bookstore with a tea service that smelled of chamomile and courage. "Complex magical working requires absolute clarity of purpose."
As they paused for tea and the kind of restorative cookies that only Twyla's fae-touched baking could provide, Moira found herself marveling at how domestic their crisis preparations had become. The end of the supernatural world was five days away, and they were sitting around a table discussing magical theory over afternoon snacks.
"The practice sessions are helping," she said, settling against Lucien's side with the casual intimacy that had become second nature since their mating. "But I keep feeling like we're missing something crucial about what we'll actually face during the ritual."
"The grimoire hasn't been very forthcoming about specifics," Lucien agreed, his arm tightening around her waist in a gesture that provided both comfort and grounding for her magical senses.
As if summoned by their conversation, the Shadowheart Codex began glowing with malevolent energy from its position on the nearby table. The ancient tome's pages fluttered open without any wind, revealing text that made Moira's blood run cold.
The time of revelation approaches. The prison weakens with each passing hour, and through the cracks, influence seeps into the mortal realm. Even now, the Destroyer's whispers reach those susceptible to corruption.
"Influence seeping through," Elena repeated with obvious concern. "That suggests the entity isn't completely contained anymore."
The original binding site lies where Seraphina made her desperate gambit. Deep in the Hollow Oak forest, where ancient trees remember the taste of sacrifice and shadow magic still stains the very ground. There, the final confrontation awaits.
"It's telling us where to go," Moira said, though she noticed the grimoire's language had grown more ominous rather than helpful. "The binding site where my ancestor performed the original ritual."
But beware, daughter of shadows. The Destroyer's influence grows stronger as the Convergence approaches. Even those who believe themselves pure of heart may find their thoughts clouded by whispers of power and ambition. Trust becomes a luxury that could prove fatal.
"It's trying to make us suspicious of each other," Lucien said with disgust. "Classic manipulation technique. Sow discord among allies before the final battle."
But even as he dismissed the grimoire's psychological warfare, Moira noticed how Twyla and Elena exchanged a look that suggested the entity's warnings about growing influence weren't entirely without merit.
"Have there been incidents?" she asked quietly. "People acting strangely, making decisions that seem out of character?"
"A few," Twyla admitted reluctantly. "Nothing dramatic, but small things. Marcus Thornwell got into a shouting match with his brother over something trivial. Sarah Ashford has been making comments about how the town would be better off if certain residents left voluntarily."
"The kind of petty conflicts and resentments that normally get smoothed over by community bonds," Elena added. "But lately, people seem less willing to compromise, more focused on their own interests rather than collective wellbeing."
The corruption spreads like ink through water. Soon, even the strongest wills shall bend to the Destroyer's whispered promises. How long before the mate's protective instincts become possessive dominance? How long before the witch's noble intentions become hunger for absolute power?
"Enough," Moira said sharply, slamming the grimoire closed with enough force to make the table shake. "We're not listening to any more of your poison."
But the damage was done. She could feel doubt creeping into her thoughts, wondering if the power that felt so natural and controlled was actually the beginning of the same corruption that had consumed the entity they were trying to banish.
"Hey," Lucien said softly, turning her to face him with gentle hands that framed her face. "Look at me. What are you thinking?"
"What if it's right?" she whispered, voicing the fear that had been growing since the grimoire's latest revelation. "Whatif the power I'm developing is the first step toward becoming something like what we're fighting against?"
"Then we trust each other to recognize the warning signs," he replied with the steady certainty that had become her anchor through every crisis. "Moira, the entity wants us to doubt ourselves because doubt weakens resolve. But I can feel your intentions through our bond. There's no corruption there, no hunger for domination. Just love and determination to protect the people we care about."
"And if that changes? If the magic starts influencing me in ways we don't recognize?"
"Then I'll remind you who you really are," Lucien said, his thumb tracing across her cheekbone with reverent gentleness. "Just as you'd do for me if my protective instincts started crossing the line into possessive control."
The mate bond carried not just his words but the absolute sincerity behind them. Through their connection, she could feel his unwavering faith in her goodness, his certainty that whatever challenges they faced, they would face them together without losing themselves to corruption.
"The binding site," she said finally, drawing strength from his steady presence. "We need to see it, understand what we'll actually be dealing with during the ritual."
"Tomorrow," Elena suggested. "Give you both time to prepare mentally for whatever we find there."
