Page 98 of Roaring Spell

“The old witches and shifters must have known.” Her voice is wondering. “Before the Severing. This must have been normal. Pairs strengthening the protections, their bonds feeding the magic that kept everyone safe.”

“And the Preservers destroyed that.”

“Tried to destroy it.” She squeezes my hand. “But it’s coming back. We’re proof.”

“Should we be concerned?”

“Grandmother Peach says no.”

“Grandmother Peach also speaks in riddles and appears from nowhere.”

“Valid point.” She leans into me, her head resting against my arm. “But I trust her. Mostly. When she’s not being cryptically unhelpful.”

We stand there for a long moment, watching the shimmer of the Warding Line, feeling its power pulse in time with our heartbeats.

The magic is waking up.

And we’re part of it now.

Later, as the evening settles, we find ourselves on the roof.

The studio has a small balcony accessible from the second floor—I didn’t know that until Sakura led me up the narrow stairs and through a door I’d never noticed. Now we’re sitting on warm tiles, watching the sun sink toward the mountains, the sky painted in shades of gold and pink and violet.

“This is my favorite spot.” She leans against me, her head on my shoulder. “I used to come up here when I couldn’t sleep. When my magic was too restless. The view helped.”

“Does the view help now?”

“The view is perfect.” She smiles. “But so is this.”

I pull her closer. My mate. My storm. My everything.

“What now?” The question emerges without planning. “After all of this—the claiming, the Preservers, the town accepting you—what comes next?”

“Now we live.” She says it simply, like it’s obvious. “I help clients. You protect the community. We figure out how to share a cabin that was designed for one very large bear.”

“The cabin might need expansion.”

“The cabin definitely needs expansion.” She traces patterns on my arm.

The sun sinks lower. The stars begin to emerge. Somewhere in the distance, the Registry bell rings again—another pairing, another bond, another piece of the old ways returning.

“Should we worry?” I ask against her lips.

“Probably.” She doesn’t sound concerned. “But I trust that we’ll figure it out. All of us. The town, the Network, the coven. We’ve handled Preservers. We can handle a magical awakening.”

“Very confident.”

“I have a stubborn bear on my side.” Her hand finds my claiming mark, tracing the shape of it through my shirt. “That makes me brave.”

Far to the north, in the Thornback Mountains, ancient power stirs.

I feel it—a vibration in the earth, a pulse of ancient magic that resonates with the Warding Line and the claiming marks and the growing power of bonds that should never have been severed. Dragons, Grandmother Peach said once. The elder dragons sleep in those mountains. When the magic is strong enough, they wake.

The magic is getting stronger.

“Do you feel that?” Sakura’s voice is quiet.

“Yes.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“I don’t know.” I hold her tighter. “But whatever it is, whatever’s coming—we’ll face it. We’ve proved we can handle danger.”

“We almost died.”

“And yet, here we are.” I tip her chin up, making her meet my eyes. “Alive. Claimed. Sitting on a rooftop watching the sunset. I call that a victory.”

She laughs—bright and happy and mine.

“Okay.” She settles back against my chest. “I’ll take the victory.”

The sky deepens to purple. The first stars appear. Below us, Mistvale eases into evening—lights flickering on in windows, music drifting from the brewery, the soft sounds of a community at peace.

This is home now. This small town with its mist and magic and nosy neighbors. This woman in my arms with her weather and her chaos and her heart that chose me despite every reason not to.