Chapter 43
Hanna
The celebration that the clan and coven had planned after the hearing was in full swing when Tabitha caught my eye from across the room. I knew that look—the subtle lift of her brow and the twitch of her fingers.
Witch business. Important witch business.
“Hanna,” she said gently, touching my elbow. “Come with me.”
Before I could ask what was happening, Zara swooped in at my other side like a glitter tornado.
“Yes, come on, it’s time! Oh, Savla, you’re coming too,” she insisted.
Savla blinked from where he’d been watching me talk with Dristan. “I’m what?”
Zara grabbed his wrist. “Yes. You. Come. Now.”
He shot me a confused look, but followed without protest—mostly because Zara was surprisingly insistent and also because Ribbon was now herding him forward with soft but relentless nudges.
Tabitha led us out of the noisy hall, past the elevator, down the corridor lined with lanterns.
My stomach fluttered. The air felt different here—thicker, humming, warm like the atmosphere before a lightning storm.
“Where are we going?” I whispered.
Tabitha smiled softly. “Somewhere long overdue.”
We reached the coven room at the far end of the floor from the general gathering room. I’d only been inside a few times—usually for full-moon blessings or spell renewals. It always smelled like sage and cedar, and carried a quiet power that made the skin on my arms tingle.
When Tabitha opened the door, flickering candles illuminated a circle of runes carved into the floor. The air shimmered faintly, as though waiting for breath.
Savla stopped short. “This is… magick meant for witches. I shouldn’t—”
Tabitha turned to him. “Tonight, you should.”
Zara nodded so hard her braids—that Gabbi had insisted on doing for her, so they were pretty lopsided—bounced. “Trust us. You want this.”
Savla glanced at me. The bond warmed in my chest, reassuring him the way he never let himself ask for aloud. He stepped inside beside me, shoulders squared but eyes uncertain.
Tabitha closed the door behind us. The room sealed with a soft rush of magick. My pulse skittered along my throat, and I glanced around at the empty space.
Zara gently took my hands. “Hanna, this is about your inheritance. Not the physical part. The spiritual one.”
My breath caught and I suddenly understood. I knew what they were trying to do.
“Tabitha,” I whispered. “Are you calling—?”
“Yes,” she said. “If she chooses to come.”
Savla looked between us. “Who?”
I swallowed hard. “My grandmother.”
His eyes widened, the warmth of his hand brushing mine in instinctive comfort. I squeezed back, grounding myself.
Tabitha lifted her staff and Zara stepped into the circle with her wand. I stepped with her. Savla hesitated, then followed directly behind me like my shadow.
Tabitha began to chant—low and ancient, weaving threads of moonlight around us. Zara joined in, her voice higher, brightening the spell and adding power. The candles flared, flames dancing upward in thin white spirals.
The runes under our feet glowed soft gold. A wind moved through the room though the windows were closed. It swept my curls around my face, lifting the hairs on my arms.
Then, a warmth bloomed at the center of the circle. Soft and familiar. A presence I knew before I saw her.
“Hanna,” Tabitha whispered, “call her.”
My throat tightened and I closed my eyes, pressing a shaking hand to my heart.
“Grandmother… I’m here. I—” My voice cracked. “I hope you can hear me. I hope you’re near.”
The air shimmered and I’d barely finished my words when a figure appeared—not fully solid, not fully transparent—glowing with soft silver light. A woman with a halo of pale hair and a gentle smile that always made me feel like I belonged somewhere. My breath shuddered out of me.
“Grandma,” I whispered, hoarsely.
Her spirit stepped forward, warm light flickering like candle flame around her. She lifted a hand and brushed my cheek—not physically, but I felt it. A warm touch like the summer sun.
“Oh, my darling girl,” she said, voice soft as falling petals. “You’ve grown into everything I hoped for.”
Emotion broke through me in a rush. “I—I miss you.”
“I know,” she said. “But you carry me with you every day.”
Savla stood behind me, unmoving, breath held like he was witnessing something sacred, and my grandmother’s eyes turned to him. For the first time ever, I saw Savla stiffen like he was about to face a God.
Instead of the judgment he probably expected, a smile stretched my grandmother’s face. And the bond inside me thrummed in recognition.
“You,” she said kindly, “love her.”
Savla made a quiet sound—half inhale, half helpless confession.
“I—” His voice cracked now. “I do.”
My heart splintered open at having both the people I loved more than anything in this world with me at the same time. She stepped closer to him. He bowed his head instinctively, like he respected her on a level beyond magick.
“You fear what it means,” she murmured. “The bond. The cost.”
Savla swallowed hard. “Yes.”
Her hand glowed softly as she lifted it toward him. “You are not your father’s story.”
Savla’s chest shook with a gasp of shock and pain.
“And Hanna is not your mother’s fate.”
The quickly released breath was one that spoke of deep relief. As if he’d been carrying that worry with him the entire time. Tears shimmered in his eyes—real, raw and unguarded.
“I don’t want to hurt her,” he whispered.
“My boy,” my grandmother said gently, “you are the safest place she has ever known.”
His eyes squeezed shut and something in me snapped—soft and aching. I reached for his hand and he threaded his fingers through mine instantly, gripping like he needed the contact to stay upright. My grandmother looked at our joined hands and smiled, warm and bright.
“You have my blessing,” she said.
The tears blossomed in my eyes before I was ready for them, blurring her to me. I blinked them away quickly, trying to memorize every second in her presence.
Savla’s entire body went still. Her blessing wasn’t just a formality. It carried real magick. Ancient Greyleaf magick—rare, powerful and binding in the best way.
We were from an ancient line of green witches. The witches of the earth. The ones that worshipped nature, sex and what the earth gave to us. Including mates.
The candles flared, the runes glowed brighter and without hesitation, the bond surged in my chest—warmth spreading like honey through my veins. My grandmother reached into the air and pulled something from the shimmer. A wooden box appeared—old, worn and carved with the Greyleaf crest.
I stared at it, knowing what it was, and shaking from what it meant. She held it out to me.
“These were mine,” she said. “Tools shaped by my hands, used with love and guided by heart, not ambition.”
She pressed the box into my hands. It hummed with familiar magick. As soon as I touched it, a pulse traveled through my skin—soft, welcoming and ancient.
“You’ll build something beautiful,” she whispered.
I looked up at her, tears streaming down my face.
“Grandma—thank you,” I gasped, barely able to get the words out around the sobs that were trapped in my chest.
She reached out one more time, touching both our cheeks—not physical, but warm enough to feel like sunlight. Like the blessing it was meant to be.
“My Hanna,” she whispered to me. “My Savla,” she whispered to him. Savla’s breath hitched. “Be good to each other.”
Then her light dimmed—not in sadness, but like a candle finally at peace.
“Goodbye, my heart,” she whispered, her eyes on me for one last second.
Then the wind stilled and the glow that surrounded us faded. The runes dimmed to soft gold and the same way she’d come, she was gone.
I stood there shaking, holding the wooden box like it was my own heart. Savla stepped in front of me, lowering his forehead to mine, both of us breathing unevenly.
“You… got her blessing,” I whispered.
His voice was thick. “We did.” His thumbs brushed the tears from my cheeks. “I don’t deserve that,” he murmured.
“You do,” I said fiercely. “You do. And she knew it.”
He closed his eyes, leaning into me with a soft exhale. Ribbon gently nudged our legs, croaking quietly.
Zara sniffed loudly. “Okay, I’m crying.”
Tabitha wiped her eyes. “This is the best ritual we’ve done in years.”
I clutched the heirloom box to my chest, magick warm against my ribs. My grandmother had seen us and she’d blessed us. She’d given me her tools to do the work that she wanted me to do with the business that had been mine all along.
And she’d given our mating her blessing. In that moment—I felt completely whole. And Savla, still holding me gently, whispered into my hair,
“She’s so proud of you.”
I allowed the tears to come, because I believed him.