Page 62 of Claws for Celebration
"Which means the choice is entirely mine," Moira said, the weight of inherited responsibility settling across her shoulders like a heavy cloak. "Maintain the prison and hope it holds indefinitely, or attempt the banishment ritual and risk everything on dimensional magic that's never been successfully performed."
"The prison is already failing," Lucien pointed out, his protective instincts evident in the way he moved closer to her side. "Four days until the Convergence, and we're already seeing signs of Malphas's influence seeping through weakened barriers."
"But the banishment ritual could kill you," Twyla said from where she'd been preparing tea with the kind of focused attention that suggested she was using cooking as a way to process overwhelming information. "The historical accounts are clear about the energy requirements. Tearing dimensional barriers requires more power than most blood magic practitioners can safely channel."
"Most blood magic practitioners don't have mate bonds with shifters," Elena pointed out. "The magical stability Lucien provides might be exactly what's needed to survive the working."
"Might being the operative term," Bram added unhelpfully. "We're essentially gambling Miss Marsh's life on theoretical applications of bond magic."
"The alternative is gambling everyone's life on a failing prison," Moira replied, her analytical mind already weighing risks against potential outcomes. "If the binding collapses during the Convergence, Malphas breaks free with three centuries of accumulated rage and whatever power he's gained during his imprisonment."
"And if the banishment ritual fails?" Lucien asked quietly, though she could feel through their bond that he already knew her answer.
"Then at least we tried to solve the problem permanently rather than just postponing it for future generations," she said with more confidence than she felt. "Lucien, what does your tactical analysis say about our chances?"
His dark green eyes reflected the weight of potentially sending his mate into mortal danger. "Honestly? The banishment ritual is incredibly risky, but it's also our only chance at a permanent solution. Maintaining the prison just kicks the problem down the road until the next Convergence."
"And you support the more dangerous option?"
"I support whatever choice you make," Lucien said with the unwavering faith that had become her foundation through every impossible decision. "But yes, if you're asking for my recommendation, I think the banishment attempt is worth the risk."
"Even knowing it could kill me?"
"Even knowing it could kill both of us," he corrected gently. "Because Moira, if Malphas breaks free, the world that survives won't be one worth living in anyway."
The stark honesty in his voice, combined with the absolute trust she could feel through their mate bond, gave her the courage to voice the decision that had been crystallizing since she'd first learned about the dimensional banishment option.
"Then we attempt the permanent solution," she said firmly. "Tomorrow we visit the binding site to understand what we'll be working with. The day after that, we gather whatever additional resources we can find. And in four days, during the Convergence, we either save everyone or die trying."
"There's one more thing," Varric said hesitantly, as if reluctant to add another complication to an alreadyoverwhelming situation. "The fae archives mention that Malphas retained his original personality and intelligence despite the corruption. He's not a mindless force of destruction but a calculating entity with centuries to plan his revenge."
"Meaning he'll try to manipulate me during the ritual," Moira concluded. "Offer power, threaten people I care about, use whatever psychological pressure he thinks will work."
"Exactly. And according to these accounts, his persuasive abilities were legendary even before his corruption. He convinced entire fae courts to join his cause willingly. So the seduction you’ve been hearing in your mind from the Codex is most likely him pouring through it."
"Then it's a good thing I'll have an anchor to remind me who I really am," Moira said, her hand tightening on Lucien's as she drew strength from their connection. "Whatever Malphas offers, whatever threats he makes, the mate bond will keep me grounded in what actually matters."
"You're sure about this?" Twyla asked, setting down tea cups with the careful movements of someone trying not to let emotions interfere with hospitality. "Once we commit to this path, there's no changing our minds."
"I'm sure," Moira replied, surprised by how certain she felt despite the magnitude of what they were planning. "For the first time since arriving in Hollow Oak, I'm completely sure about something. This is what I was meant to do. What my family's magical legacy was always building toward."
As they spent the rest of the morning refining details and confirming magical preparations, Moira found herself grateful that the choice between safer and better had turned out to be the same choice between cowardice and courage. She would rather risk everything attempting to permanently solve an ancient problem than live with the knowledge that she'd chosentemporary safety over lasting protection for the people she'd grown to love.
"Four days," Lucien said quietly as they stood together in the garden behind the bookstore, watching afternoon sunlight filter through leaves that were beginning to show the first hints of autumn color.
"Four days," she agreed, leaning into his solid warmth as they both contemplated the approaching confrontation.
Whatever Malphas had planned during his centuries of imprisonment, whatever psychological warfare he intended to deploy during the banishment ritual, he would face a witch who'd found her true strength through love rather than corruption.
And that, Moira hoped, would make all the difference.
37
LUCIEN
The grandfather clock in the corner of Moira's bookstore chimed ten times, each resonant note echoing through the quiet space like a countdown to something Lucien couldn't bear to name. Tomorrow. The ritual. The possibility that everything he'd found with this remarkable woman could be ripped away by forces neither of them fully understood.
He sat in the worn leather armchair near the occult section, watching Moira move between the shelves with that fluid grace that had first caught his attention weeks ago. She was organizing books that didn't need organizing, her fingers trailing along familiar spines as if drawing comfort from their presence. The soft lamplight caught the auburn highlights in her dark hair, creating a halo effect that made his chest tighten with something dangerously close to worship.
