Page 41 of Summer L.A.W.

“Dangerous habit.” Esme leaned against the railing. “Want to talk about it?”

Crystal stared into the golden liquid. “He doesn’t belong in this world. Not really. And every time I think I can protect him from it, the ocean, or fate, or whatever has other ideas.”

Esme’s tone softened. “Maybe it’s not about protecting him. Maybe it’s about trusting him to swim, not sink.”

Crystal huffed a laugh. “Metaphors. You really have been around us too long.”

“Occupational hazard.”

Crystal leaned away and looked at their closest neighbor as if seeing her for the first time. “What is your occupation?”

Esmerelda just smiled.

Behind them, Lioness whooped triumphantly. “Bonfire ready! Somebody bring me a lighter!”

Sahara shouted back, “If you so much as touch a flame before the wards are sealed, I will hex your eyebrows off!”

Esme didn’t move. “You know, I could tell the others to back off for a while. Give you space.”

Crystal shook her head. “No. I need this. Litha’s about renewal, right? Rebirth. Maybe I can fake it ‘til I make it.”

“That’s the spirit,” Esme said. “Or at least the marketing slogan.” She nudged Crystal’s shoulder. “Now come help before Lioness accidentally summons a barbecue demon.”

By the time dusk fell, the grounds had transformed. Lanterns hung from branches like captive stars. The bonfire crackled at the center of the meadow, encircled by stones that shimmered faintly with protection spells. The air smelled of sage, cedar, and Esmerelda’s blond brownies.

The older witch had returned in a floppy straw hat and had carried a bowl of strawberries to the altar “for balance.” She declared herself the “Official Snack Priestess” and parked her chair beside the fire, then joined the circle.

As the sacred space formed around the altar and chants began to rise, Crystal let her eyes close.

The mountain breeze brushed her cheek. The fire’s warmth reached her skin. Yesterday’s fear, saltwater, and longing began to ease, replaced by something quieter, steadier. Hope. For the first time since the sea tried to claim her, Crystal felt almost whole. Almost.

Sahara cast the circle, calling in the quarters, then affirming protection for all present.

The bonfire crackled higher, throwing sparks that spiraled into the twilight like tiny comets. The circle of witches swayed gently to the rhythm of their own chanting voices. Low, melodic words older than any of them could remember.

Sahara led the chant, her voice steady as a drumbeat. “Light for growth. Fire for change. Power for purpose. May our power grow as we can allow and accept it.”

Crystal’s shards pulsed faintly where they floated around the altar. A faceted stone refracted the firelight into a halo of color. Magda tossed a handful of powdered herbs into the flames, and the fire flared gold.

“Ha!” she said, beaming. “Didn’t explode this time!”

“Don’t jinx it,” Sahara muttered, tracing another sigil in the air to keep the flames contained.

Crystal stood between Joell and Esmerelda, her fingers loosely linked with theirs. The warmth of their joined magic pulsed through her palms, steady and grounding. She breathed in the scent of burning cedar and strawberries, and for a moment, her pulse matched the rhythm of the fire.

The chant rose and fell, the words blurring into pure vibration. The bonfire roared its approval, higher and brighter until the flames reached taller than any of them.

The witches each spoke their own intentions, and the group spent a few minutes visualizing successful outcomes.

Then something changed.

The air shifted. It became cooler, wetter. A single thread of mist drifted across the clearing, curling around Crystal’s ankles like an affectionate cat. The fire’s golden hue deepened, then shimmered blue for just a heartbeat before returning to normal.

No one else seemed to notice.

Joell lifted her arms. “By fire and light, we celebrate the sun’s strength. By heart and will, we carry it forward. The circle is open but unbroken. Blessed be!” She lifted the air from beneath her knees, up over her head, sending their sacred circle into the universe.

The witches echoed her, “Blessed Be,” and laughter broke free as the formality dissolved. Magda summoned a tray of lemonade glasses from the porch with a flick of her wrist, and Lioness immediately tried to spike hers with rum.