Epilogue
The house looked normal again.
No vines growing through the walls. No flowers blooming out of season in every corner.
No autumn leaves perpetually drifting through rooms that should have been closed off from the wind.
Jack had turned it all back before he left, restoring Seraphina’s home to its usual organized chaos, he had even cleaned and restocked the display shelves in the shop below with crystals and herbs and mysterious things in jars… well he had his familiars do it.
A day before winter’s official start, and Locke stood in his bedroom surrounded by half-packed bags, trying to figure out what exactly you brought when moving to a magical realm to become an immortal god.
“Clothes?” he muttered to himself. “Do I even need clothes? Will I have god clothes? Should I bring my toothbrush?”
“Definitely bring the toothbrush,” Rowan said from the doorway. “Immortal or not, nobody wants god breath.”
Locke threw a sock at him.
Downstairs, Seraphina Shadehaven hummed as she cleaned up her shop from the days customers, two weeks back from her “cruise” that Locke was now ninety percent sure had never actually been a cruise at all. As a matter of fact he had even confronted her about it just yesterday.
“Grandma,” Locke had sat on the step while she was closing up shop. “Did you actually go on a cruise?”
Seraphina appeared near the step, looking entirely too pleased with herself. Her blonde hair was pulled back, her hazel eyes sparkling with mischief that Locke recognized in his own mirror.
“Oh, I went on a cruise, darling. Just not the kind with shuffleboard.” She smiled.
"So it was some kinda witchy cruise? is that something you take your grimoire to?"
“A witch always has more than one, darling. And I needed to leave something here to spark my curious grandson's interest. Though I admit, I wasn’t expecting you to summon a harvest deity specifically. That was a delightful surprise.”
“You PLANNED this?”
“Not all of it. But I certainly nudged you in the right direction. I've always known you've had a great power within you, even if it did skip your mother.” She winked. “And I’m very proud of you. Becoming a god’s consort? That’s my boy.”
Now Locke zipped up his roller luggage, still feeling foolish for bring it but what else was he gonna bring. Rowan flipped through that very grimoire like an arch villain.
Grandma's hand shot out once she entered the living room, snatching it back. “Nice try.”
“Come on! I need it for research! Winter gods don’t just summon themselves!”
Seraphina pulled her grandson into a hug. “You’ll visit?”
“Of course I will. Rowan’s going to summon us back.”
“And if he doesn’t, I most certainly will.” She kissed his forehead. “I didn’t raise you to forget your grandmother.”
Locke held on tight, breathing in the familiar scent of her lavender sachets and incense. “Thank you. For everything. For the grimoire. For...for knowing what I needed even when I didn’t.”
“That’s what grandmothers do, darling.”
Rowan grabbed him next, pulling him into a crushing hug. “You better come back every year, or I’m coming to the Loam to drag your ass home.”
“I will. I promise.” Locke pulled back. "I guess I better go before this winter God shows up, if he shows up. I have no idea what the rules are."
"You will learn." Seraphina assured him. “Oh, the Loam is wonderful this time of year. I spent my early twenties there, you know. Wild times. All those satyrs...” She got a distant, fond look. “And the orgies were—“
“GRANDMA!”
“What? I was young once!”
Rowan leaned forward, delighted. “Holy shit, keep talking!”
“I don’t wanna hear any more of that!” Locke covered his ears.
Seraphina just smiled, perfectly pleased with herself. Then her expression turned gentle. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a stone. Teal, shot through with veins of gold, smooth and warm.
“This is for you,” she said, pressing it into Locke’s palm. “Set it on the floor and charge it with your magic. It will open a portal directly to the Loam. Your way home.”
Locke stared at the stone. This was it. This was really happening.
His hands shook slightly as he knelt, placing the stone on the living room floor. He took a breath. Reached for that well of power inside him that Jack had helped him find, that he was still learning to understand.
Magic poured into the stone.
The air shimmered. Split. A portal bloomed into existence, edges rippling with autumn colors even though winter was nearly here. Through it, Locke could see the Loam. Golden light and ancient trees and a castle in the distance that looked like something from a dream.
And there, waiting on the other side, were Jack or Lord Mabon and the familiars.
He stood in his full fae glory. White-gold hair catching the light. Golden skin. Crown of vines. Those autumn eyes fixed on Locke like he was the only thing that mattered in any realm.
He reached out. His hand stopped at the portal’s edge, not crossing through, just extended in invitation.
Pumpkin the cat appeared from nowhere, weaving between Locke’s legs and purring. The cat who’d ignored him for weeks, who’d given exactly zero fucks about anything, was rubbing against him like this was goodbye.
Seraphina beamed. “Wait until I tell the other witches. My grandson discovered his magic and became a god. They’re going to be so jealous.”
Locke looked back at them. His grandmother, proud and mischievous. His best friend since kindergarten, already planning how to summon him back. This place that had been his refuge. This town that had been his home.
Then he looked forward. At Jack. At forever. At the adventure waiting on the other side of that portal.
He stepped through.
The Loam embraced him immediately. Warm and alive and welcoming. Jack pulled him close, and Locke melted into him, feeling the rightness of it settle into his bones.
“Welcome home,” Jack murmured against his hair.
Locke pulled back just enough to look at him. To see that joy and relief and love written across his face.
Then he kissed him.
The portal shimmered behind them. Began to close. Through it, Locke could see Rowan waving wildly, Seraphina dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, Pumpkin sitting sphinx-like and watching with those inscrutable cat eyes.
The portal sealed shut.
And Locke Shadehaven, warlock, accidentally powerful, anxious and brave and finally, finally home, began his forever.
THE END