Chapter 49
Hanna
The forest thinned gradually before opening into the clearing, and every time I saw Kragor Lake—even after only a handful of visits—it stole the breath right out of my lungs.
Sunlight spilled between the tall pines in long golden beams, turning the mist into strands of pale silver.
The air smelled like cedar and cold water and the faint mineral tang of mountain stone.
Leaves rustled overhead with that soft, deep hush that only old forests carried—the kind that felt sacred, ancient and almost aware of itself.
Ahead, the land dipped into a gentle slope, revealing the lake. And dearest Goddess Mother… the lake.
It stretched out like a great mirror of sky, its surface impossibly smooth where the wind didn’t touch it.
The water was so clear you could see the pale stones lining the bottom near the shore, each one rounded by time and shimmering faintly under the shifting light.
Farther out, the lake deepened into a rich cobalt blue—so dark it looked like it held secrets.
A ring of wildflowers traced the shoreline—clusters of indigo thistle, star-shaped moonpetals, and tiny yellow firebuds that almost glowed when the sunlight hit them just right. Their scent drifted on the breeze, soft and sweet, mixing with the earthy green smell of the forest.
A small mountain range rose on the far side—the Kragor Ridge—its gray-and-violet peaks dusted with old snow even though we were well past winter.
Wisps of cloud curled around the highest summit like white scarves, and waterfalls tumbled down the crags in thin silver ribbons.
You could hear them even from here—a distant melodic rush that blended with birdsong.
Closer to the clearing, tall birch and evergreen trees guarded the perimeter in a quiet circle. Their branches filtered the sunlight into shifting lace patterns on the forest floor. A few white-barked birches leaned toward the water, their leaves trembling in the slightest breeze.
Near the spot where Darak wanted to build our home, the ground was carpeted in moss soft enough to sleep on. Smooth river stones dotted the shoreline, perfect for sitting or skipping or—if you were Ribbon—sunbathing.
And the magick… The magick here was different.
Alive.
It hummed under my skin with a soft, welcoming warmth, like the land itself recognized us. Like it had been waiting. There were places where the air shimmered faintly, where the veil between the mundane and the enchanted felt thin enough to touch.
Dristan paused beside me, taking in the view with a reverent exhale.
Pen whispered, “It’s beautiful.”
Ribbon let out a low, awed croak and hopped toward the water like he’d found his personal heaven.
Savla stood behind me, shoulders relaxed for the first time in days, the sunlight catching the faint runes on his forearms. The ones that he’d had marked on him.
They were mine. A special spell that I’d made just for him.
It represented us and I’d made it to enhance our bond using my grandmother’s old book of spells. A special combination of our names and lineage.
The surroundings were peaceful. Untouched and hopeful.
Staring out at the glimmering lake and the forest that cradled it—I saw a future.
A real one. A home that felt like it belonged in a story my grandmother might have whispered beside the fire.
Savla leaned close enough that I felt the warmth of him against my back.
“Zoga,” he said softly, voice deep and certain. “This is going to be ours.”
And looking out at Kragor Lake—vast, shimmering, alive—I believed him.
By the time we reached the clearing at the edge of Kragor Lake—our soon-to-be home site—I already regretted bringing the entire clan and coven. Not because they weren’t helpful, but because this group had the attention span of squirrels on espresso.
Darak stood front and center with a rolled blueprint under his arm, posture stiff with authority, expression absolutely thrilled. Yes, thrilled, which immediately put everyone on high alert.
Krusk muttered to Savla, “He’s smiling. Why is he smiling? He never smiles.”
Enka whispered loudly, “Maybe he found a girlfriend.”
Ribbon croaked in agreement, nudging my leg so hard I nearly toppled into Savla. Savla caught me by the waist automatically, and my fingers twined with his.
Darak clapped his hands once, loudly enough to silence the crowd. “Okay! Let’s begin.”
Begin what, no one seemed sure. Becca raised her hand from the back.
“I thought we were just finalizing the lots.”
“No,” Darak said, pulling the blueprint open with a flourish that sent dust flying. “We are finalizing all plans. For all homes. Today.”
Zara blinked. “Uh. All?”
“Yes,” Darak said, adjusting his sunglasses and somehow radiating menace.
“Why the rush?” Krusk asked slowly.
Darak’s eye gleamed. “No reason.”
Every orc exchanged looks. Tabitha raised one eyebrow—the ‘witching senses activated’ eyebrow.
Even Dristan leaned toward Penelope and murmured, “Something’s wrong with him.”
Penelope nodded. “He’s excited. That’s deeply concerning.”
I fought a smile as Darak knelt and spread the blueprint across a flat boulder. It unfurled dramatically, nearly smacking Enka in the face. Savla stood behind me, arms crossed, close enough that his breath brushed my neck whenever he exhaled. It was distracting. Extremely distracting.
“Okay,” Darak announced. “Savla and Hanna’s home goes here—by the lake. Optimal views and minimal wind shear. Close enough to the treeline for privacy since they need access to both for potion brewing and Savla’s art.”
I knew my mate would be blushing at his work being called art, but that was what it was. Beautiful and innovative.
“Do we have to finalize the square footage today?” Savla asked, and Darak nodded. “I didn’t know that. I left my sketches for the workshop at home.”
“I left my sketches at home too,” Dristan said, Lira sleeping in his arms, her tiny lips pouted in a little moue. “When did we decide that today was the day we were finalizing everything?”
Darak stared at him. “When you said, and I quote, ‘We need to build the houses as soon as possible.’”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“Yes, it does,” Darak cut in.
Krusk leaned over. “Darak. Why do you care so much?”
Darak straightened, brushing imaginary dust off his blueprint. “Because efficiency matters.”
“Efficiency?” Enka repeated, skeptical.
“Yes,” Darak said, far too calmly. “If we start now, we can hire the best crew.”
“What crew?” Dristan asked.
Darak’s face lit up just a fraction. “My brother’s company.”
Everyone paused and Penelope blinked.
“You have a brother?” she asked
Darak nodded. “Yes. Seven, in fact. The eldest owns Stonefist Construction.”
“Oh!” Zara clapped. “I’ve seen their work! I love their kitchen renovations!”
Darak’s mouth twitched.
“Good. And,” he continued, pretending his voice wasn’t gaining pitch, “I happen to know a structural engineer. The best in the region. Top of her class. Award-winning. Brilliant. Very thorough. Very… meticulous.”
His voice softened on the last word like he’d said sexy instead. Every orc in the vicinity froze. Krusk was the first to comment.
“Her?” he asked, with a grin.
Rudgar was next. “Well, well, well. Isn’t this a bit of interesting timing. Today wouldn’t happen to line up with this female being able to take on our clan housing, does it?”
Darak straightened stiffly. “Her name’s Willa.”
Zara smirked. “You said that very fondly,” she teased.
“I said it neutrally,” Darak snapped.
“You said it like she invented gravity,” I added.
Darak glared at the ground. “She’s competent.”
Enka nudged his brother. “He’s blushing.”
“I am not,” Darak snapped, the opposite of his usually cold, put together self.
Ever since he’d started this project, he’d been acting different. More... alive. The entire clan nodded in unison.
“Anyway!” Darak barked, slapping the blueprint. “We are here to make decisions. Savla. Hanna. Your house?”
I knelt beside the drawing. “I want a greenhouse. Attached to the kitchen.”
Savla knelt next to me. His knee brushed mine and heat climbed up my spine.
“That’s fine,” he murmured. “As long as our workshop goes here.” He tapped another spot on the blueprint—directly adjoining my greenhouse.
Rudgar sent a smirk our way. “I think everything needs to be soundproofed, if they’re going to be closest to the lake. Just in case any innocent ears are taking a stroll down there...”
Savla shot him a glare lethal enough to fell a grown elk.
Darak scribbled on his notepad. “Done.”
I smiled. “And maybe a balcony?”
Savla nodded slowly. “Overlooking the lake.”
Darak scribbled faster.
“And a big table,” I added, glancing shyly at Savla. “For carving. And crafting. And potions.”
He looked at me with something soft and warm and devastating.
“We’ll need a larger foundation,” his voice low.
“Let’s do it,” I whispered.
He swallowed and Ribbon croaked, plopping himself directly onto the blueprint again.
“Ribbon—no—no—” Enka dove to pull him off.
The blueprint came up covered in a moist spot. Again. Darak froze and his eye twitched.
“I hate toads,” he said calmly.
Ribbon croaked, affronted, and smacked his boot with his entire body. Savla pinched the bridge of his nose.
“This is chaos,” he murmured and his hand curled around mine, softly and automatically.
Darak cleared his throat. “Despite… all of this… I’ll make sure your house is perfect.”
The clan murmured their agreement, the coven nodded and Savla squeezed my hand again. For a moment, the chaos fell away, leaving only the blueprint of a life we were about to build—together.