Page 46 of Claws for Celebration
But closing the book didn't silence the whispers that had begun echoing in her mind, seductive voices that promised relief from the emotional agony of Lucien's withdrawal if she would just let her magic flow freely.
The mate bond was a tool, nothing more. You are complete without him. You are powerful beyond his comprehension. Why limit yourself for the sake of his fear?
"Because his fear is keeping the world safe," Moira replied through gritted teeth, though the words felt hollow in the face of her overwhelming sense of loss.
A knock at the bookstore's front door made her look up to see Twyla's concerned face pressed against the glass. The café owner's hair was disheveled, and her usually cheerful expressionshowed genuine worry as she gestured urgently for Moira to let her in.
"Thank God you're here," Moira said, unlocking the door and immediately feeling some of her isolation ease at the sight of a friendly face. "I don't know what to do."
"Honey, half the town's magical protections just flickered like a bad lightbulb," Twyla said, stepping inside and immediately wrapping Moira in a maternal hug that smelled of cinnamon and comfort. "Whatever's happening with your magic, it's affecting everything connected to the defensive grid."
"Lucien left," Moira said simply, the words carrying more weight than any detailed explanation could have managed.
"Left how? Left for patrol duty, or left left?" Twyla's tone suggested she already suspected the answer.
"Left left. We discovered that the grimoire has been manipulating my magical development to prepare me for something terrible. He thinks our mate bond is accelerating my power toward a catastrophic threshold, so he's removing himself from the equation."
"And how's that working out for your magical stability?"
As if in response to the question, a surge of uncontrolled power rippled through the bookstore, making every book on the shelves glow with faint golden light before the energy dissipated into harmless sparkles.
"About as well as you'd expect," Moira said weakly.
Twyla guided her to a chair and settled beside her with the practiced efficiency of someone accustomed to magical crises. "Tell me what the grimoire showed you. All of it."
Moira explained the cryptic revelations about prisoners and keys, about Seraphina's binding being temporary rather than permanent, about the countdown to a convergence that would either free ancient evil or destroy her in the attempt to prevent it.
"And Lucien thinks that staying away from you will slow down your magical development enough to prevent disaster?" Twyla asked when the explanation was complete.
"That's the theory. Remove the emotional intensity that's been amplifying my abilities, hope that my power stays below whatever threshold the grimoire needs to complete its plan."
"Honey, that's the dumbest thing I've heard since Edgar tried to convince me that enchanted beer was a legitimate business venture." Twyla's blunt assessment carried the authority of someone who'd dealt with supernatural politics for decades. "Your magic isn't just tied to your mate bond. It's tied to your emotional state, period. Heartbreak and isolation aren't going to make you less powerful. They're going to make you less stable."
Even as Twyla spoke, another wave of chaotic energy pulsed through the room, this time strong enough to rattle the windows and make several ancient volumes fall from their shelves.
"See what I mean?" Twyla continued. "You need emotional anchoring, not emotional devastation. The mate bond wasn't just amplifying your power. It was helping you control it."
"But what if the grimoire is right? What if our connection is what pushes me over the edge into apocalyptic territory?"
"Then we find another way to manage your abilities that doesn't involve abandoning you when you need support most." Twyla's voice carried fierce determination. "Magic responds to intention as much as emotion. If your conscious goal is preventing disaster, that intention should influence how your power manifests."
The grimoire's pages fluttered open despite Moira's efforts to keep it closed, revealing new text that made her stomach clench with dread.
The awakening cannot be stopped by separation or intention. The bloodline magic has already passed the point of no return. In nine days, when the moon reaches its apex,the ritual will complete itself whether the granddaughter participates willingly or not.
"Nine days?" Moira said, noting that the timeline had shortened. "It was eleven days this morning."
Each moment of emotional turmoil accelerates the process. The pain of abandonment feeds the magic just as surely as the joy of connection once did. There is no path that leads away from destiny.
"This thing is really starting to get on my nerves," Twyla said, studying the text with obvious irritation. "Moira, close your eyes and listen to me."
"What?"
"Just do it. Close your eyes and focus on my voice instead of whatever nonsense that book is spouting."
Moira obeyed, grateful for any distraction from the grimoire's relentless psychological pressure.
"Your magic isn't evil," Twyla said firmly. "It's not corrupted or doomed or destined for destruction. It's yours, and you get to decide how to use it. That book has been lying to you since day one, and it's still lying now."
