Page 65 of Claws for Celebration
She drew deeper from her magical well, pulling enough energy to make the air around them shimmer with heat. What should have been overwhelming felt manageable, controlled, purposeful. "This is what we needed. This connection, this stability. I can actually feel confident about the ritual now."
"Good," he said, but his expression remained serious. "Because we're going to need every advantage we can get."
Twyla swept into the bookstore carrying a wicker basket that smelled like cinnamon and courage, her wheat-colored hair braided with what looked suspiciously like protective charms.
"Morning, you two," she called cheerfully, though Moira caught the underlying tension in her voice. "I brought supplies for the big day."
"Supplies?" Moira asked, accepting the steaming mug Twyla pressed into her hands.
"Courage tea, blessed by every magical resident in Hollow Oak," Twyla explained, settling into the third chair with the kind of maternal authority that brooked no argument. "Elena contributed strength herbs, Cordelia added clarity blossoms, and Mrs. Thornwell insisted on adding a pinch of her grandmother's protection powder."
The tea tasted like liquid determination. "They all contributed?"
"Honey, the entire town knows what you're doing today. What you're risking for all of us." Twyla's brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Marcus Ashford sent a hand-carved focusing crystal. The Greyward twins blessed a protection charm with their combined earth magic. Even old Mr. Henderson, who barely speaks to anyone, left a bundle of sage from his personal garden on my doorstep."
Moira felt her throat tighten with emotion. "I had no idea."
"You've become part of us," Twyla said simply. "Family protects family, and family celebrates family's victories. Which is exactly what we're planning to do tonight after you banish this ancient nastiness once and for all."
The confidence in Twyla's voice, the absolute certainty that Moira would succeed and return safely, made something warm and fierce bloom in her chest. This was what she was fighting for. Not just the abstract concept of saving the world, but these specific people who'd welcomed her home.
"There's more," Twyla continued, pulling a small leather pouch from her basket. "Blessings from the Cherokee shamans Elder Varric contacted. They sent protective tokens made from sacred mountain stone. And the Appalachian Fae Collective contributed this."
She held up what looked like a simple silver pendant, but Moira could feel the power humming from it even across the table. "What does it do?"
"Dimensional anchor," Twyla explained. "If the ritual magic tries to pull you too far into the between-spaces, this will help you find your way back to the physical world."
Lucien leaned forward, his protective instincts clearly engaged. "How do we know it's safe? Fae magic can be tricky."
"Because I tested it myself," Twyla said with a slight smile. "Fae-blooded, remember? I can sense if there are any nasty surprises woven into the enchantment. This is clean, honest protection magic."
As Moira fastened the pendant around her neck, feeling its subtle weight settle against her collarbone, she marveled at how much her life had changed. Six weeks ago, she'd been Dr. Moira Marsh, solitary academic with a quiet life and modest ambitions. Now she was the Guardian Witch of Hollow Oak, mate to a shape-shifting panther, and apparently beloved enough by her adopted community that they'd moved mountains to ensure her safety.
"Thank you," she said, the words completely inadequate for what she was feeling. "All of you. I don't know how to repay this kind of generosity."
"You repay it by coming home safe," Twyla said firmly. "Now, I'll leave you two to your final preparations. But Moira? Remember that courage isn't the absence of fear. It's doing what needs to be done despite the fear."
After Twyla left, Moira found herself drawn back to the Shadowheart Codex, which had been unusually quiet since their conversation the previous evening. The ancient tome sat on her usual table like a sleeping predator, its leather binding dark and still.
"One more consultation," she told Lucien, settling into her chair with the kind of grim determination that had carried her through graduate school and would hopefully carry her through magical apocalypse prevention.
The grimoire's pages fell open at her touch, revealing text that shimmered with seductive golden script. The words seemed to caress the parchment as they appeared, carrying an undertone of honeyed persuasion that made her skin prickle with awareness.
The liberation ritual requires precise channeling of dimensional energies through the willing vessel. Success demands absolute commitment to the working, without hesitation or doubt clouding the practitioner's resolve.
"Liberation," Moira read aloud, her voice catching on the word. "It's still trying to make freeing him sound like the right choice."
Lucien moved to stand behind her chair, his hands settling on her shoulders. "What else is it saying?"
The Shadowheart bloodline has always been destined for greatness beyond mortal comprehension. Why settle for protecting one small community when you could reshape the very foundations of magical society? The power offered through partnership with Malphas transcends any earthly bond.
"It's trying to tempt me," she said, her analytical mind recognizing the manipulation even as part of her responded to the promise of unlimited power. "Making it sound like I'm choosing between small-minded duty and cosmic destiny."
Consider carefully, daughter of shadows. The mate bond that anchors you now will become a chain that limits your true potential. Mortal attachments fade, but the power to command reality itself is eternal. Choose wisely.
"Now it's attacking our bond," Lucien growled, his fingers tightening protectively on her shoulders. "Trying to make you see me as an obstacle instead of support."
The ritual requires only the opening of dimensional barriers. A simple matter for one with your evolved abilities. No sacrifice necessary, no dangerous channeling of life force. Merely the wisdom to embrace what you were born to be.
