Chapter 52
Renata
Sitting on a picnic blanket in the meadow, I stare down at the blank sheet of paper in front of me and consider how I want this letter to go.
It’s been three weeks since I traded Nestor’s soul for Archer’s. I wish I could say I didn’t have any regrets about my choice. It passes quickly, but it weighs on me often. It’s a small consolation to know she can’t put his soul back into a body herself.
I know if I was presented with the choice again, I would do it all the same.
Now that I know the truth—though a lot is still fragmented—a righteous part of me knows that Archer and I deserve this life together.
Neither of us should have to pay for Nestor’s selfish dissatisfaction.
Petra, Barrett, and everyone else who came into proximity with him didn’t deserve it, either.
I try to push the dreadful thoughts of why Calista wanted his soul so badly out of my mind and focus on other things.
Definitely not the fear that has settled in my bones, knowing that our time with her is only beginning. Barrett’s warnings about how many enemies the coven died with isn’t promising either.
Looking at the lake, beginning to return to its former state, I let that pesky ball of hope grow another millimeter in my heart. After I released half of Nestor’s soul from its bond to the property and Calista took the other half she hid in the inn’s grounds, most of it went back to normal.
The plants are far from healed. They’ll need at least one season to heal, unless Clover gets a handle on her magic soon.
That’s something else I need to spend time thinking about, but don’t have the guts to do yet.
Not when I just found my friends. I can’t bear the thought of losing someone after what we went through.
It’s a start though.
The town hasn’t grown any. There are more new faces stopping through, but no one stays or leaves.
The residents of Briarhollow noticed a difference in the air. It’s lighter, fresher somehow. It’s like the town is slowly waking up, knowing that the inn is healing itself after Calista’s anger struck.
The Dreaming Willow Inn is still the heart of Briarhollow, so there’s only so much change that can happen until it’s fully healed. Rowyn is working nearly every day at trying to light the hearth.
The thought of hearts pathetically makes my mind drift to my Chosen.
Everything between the two of us has changed recently, and it feels comfortable.
It feels right. I’ve begun to question how much control fate truly has over our lives after meeting Calista.
She was able to manipulate the lives of multiple generations of Blackthorn witches, and ended the Divination line in the Vexley family just from the strength of her own rage.
The fates will no longer control us.
Archer’s spirit is now tied to the coven, and the inn itself. My spirit courses through each of the witches and the property, too. We can also sense each other’s emotions on a much deeper level than ever before—even more so than our dream state, or what Archer’s magical abilities naturally allow.
Last week, he dropped a stack of books on his hand while he was working in the library and I felt the pain as if it were my own from the inn.
Almost all of our dreams are intertwined, whether he’s looking for me or not.
They aren’t only in our meadow anymore. He’s there, in all my dreams. I feel his emotions as strongly as my own, and same for him.
Whether it be from the Soul Tie ritual or the handful of other ways our spirits are entangled, we share bonds with each other’s familiars now. To an extent.
When Archer died, his connection to Whisper didn’t break because of me. Part of his soul lives in me, just like mine does with him. Our familiars are part of our souls—an intricate part of our very essence. Because of that, their bond never fully broke.
I’m still not positive what would have happened to Agatha and Thimble that morning on our mother’s porch, but I have a much deeper understanding of how fragile these powerful bonds between us truly are.
The best part of the last few weeks has been my lack of hallucinations. I was worried that Calista would go back on her word and they’d start up again. There hasn’t been a single one—nor a nightmare.
I’m anxious it could start again in a few months, maybe years, but I try not to let my thoughts spiral down; focusing instead on the now.
The crunch of boots on the grass grabs my attention, and I look over my shoulder and smile.
Archer is walking over with Whisper at his side and Hexate wrapped around his shoulders. With a basket full of food, he sits next to me and immediately pulls me into his lap.
“Hi, Little Wisp,” he murmurs against my neck and places soft kisses along the skin.
“I love this,” I muse and settle back into his chest, momentarily forgetting my task.
He grabs each of us a wine glass and begins to uncork the bottle. “I love you,” he says with a boyish grin.
Rolling my eyes, I bite back my grin and look at the setting sun.
“One of the old diners took down a For Sale sign today,” he says casually. I perk up immediately. “Gale is going to talk to the family but his guess is that they have plans to reopen. Apparently, a few of the family-run businesses are feeling hopeful lately.”
“Really?” I ask in disbelief. It’s a long road to go, and I’m not sure hope is anymore familiar to the town of Briarhollow as it used to be to me.
He nods and hands me my glass.
“Mm,” I hum and finally let my smile peek through. “That’s good. Really good.”
Archer hands me a small plate, and I chuckle at the poorly crafted sandwiches. He clearly didn’t let Rowyn or his sister help him pack this. The sentiment is sweet.
“Do you want to open the inn as a business?” he asks. “Or do you think you’ll keep it only for the coven?”
Taking a bite, I tilt my head to the side and think it over. “I think I’d like to open it one day. It’s a part of Petra’s legacy, you know? I don’t want her story to die with me.”
He gently grabs my cheek and turns my head to face him. “It won’t—we’re making sure of it.”
Archer decided to document everything we’ve learned about the Dreaming Willow Inn’s history so far, and anything we have yet to discover. Maybe one day, our descendants will continue the tradition, making sure stories are never forgotten or hidden ever again.
I change the subject to the letter he received from his mother.
He and Sybil miss their family, and he’s aware of my secret fascination with Junimere.
Now it makes sense why I was so interested in the town, and why Hexate traveled all the way from there.
I’d like to visit. As nervous as I am, I would love to meet his family.
It’ll be different than anything I’ve experienced.
I’m proud of our coven and hope that they’d want to visit us one day too.
Laying back, he closes his eyes and lays an arm across my lap. “What were you doing out here anyway?”
I almost ask how he knew where to find me. The bond.
Twisting my lips to the side, I admit, “I was writing Agatha back. It’s been a little over two months but… I don’t know.”
He opens one eye and offers me an encouraging smile. “I think you should. We’ll stay out here with you.”
Nodding, I swallow my anxiety down and grab the pen again. He squeezes my leg before resting next to me.
With a deep breath, I start writing.
Dear Agatha,
I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to respond. Life has been… interesting since I got to the Dreaming Willow Inn.
It was a nice surprise to hear from you. Truthfully, I didn’t expect anyone would care that I left. Mother’s anger was never a question. It’s nice to know how terrified of the inn she is.
Please, Agatha, do not share this with anyone. I want you to know that the inn is safe. I am okay. Better than okay.
For the first time in a very long time, I can see a glimmer of hope for my future. The curse is broken. Well, sort of. That is far too simple of a way to explain what happened, but no more Blackthorn witches should be driven mad and back to the inn. I wasn’t alone while I did it.
I have a coven now. I’m restoring the inn. And… I made the Soul Tie Bond.
My life is everything I could have ever hoped for it to be.
I wanted to tell you not to worry. Don’t waste that energy on me.
There’s one more thing. I met Calista. She is a complicated being. She told us what the price of everoot is. I don’t know what it does to you, to have someone drain the blood and magic right out of your body.
I want to tell you thank you for the many sacrifices you have made to protect me and our younger sisters. It’s not something a person can fully grasp without meeting Calista. Still, I only have a small inkling of what you have endured by her hand.
So believe me when I promise, if you ever want to run away yourself, come to the Dreaming Willow Inn. To hell with New York City. We could be together again here.
The invitation has no expiration date, so I hope to see you again in this lifetime.
Forever your sister,
Renata
Taking a deep breath, I look at Archer and try to not let the grief pull me down. It was easier to live without Agatha when I didn’t understand the extent of her sacrifices and our complicated family. Now, I find myself longing for that relationship more often than I have in years.
Archer opens his eyes, looking concerned, and I crawl into his lap. He holds me close and rests his chin on my head as I cry for Agatha—for myself.
Thanks to his powers, Archer has always known that sadness is one of my most familiar emotions. Once we had access to the years in our dream state, he realized that it goes much deeper. It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to cure, and he feels it all the time now too.
“Archer,” I murmur. “Can you just ease the pain? A little?”
He looks down at me and tilts my chin to meet his eyes.
His reluctance weakens every time I ask him to use his magic to lift some of the weight from my soul, if only for a little while.
I hope one day he realizes what a beautiful gift it is to bring someone instant comfort when they need it the most.
He nods and tucks my head into his neck. After a few seconds, the waves of despair and melancholy begin to pull back, and I’m left with the warmth of Archer’s love and appreciation for me—for our life.
That small spark of hope I’m trying to nurture into a roaring fire grows a little as he pulls that to the forefront too. We stay like that until the sun sets before he grabs my hand and pulls me inside for dinner with the coven.