34. Moths and Magic
Ren
As I walked up the winding path to Professor Crowe's cottage, the evening mist curled around my ankles, cool tendrils licking at my skin. I clutched the glass terrarium tighter, my breath fogging its surface.
Dorian opened the door before I could even knock, his green eyes crinkling with warmth. “Ren! Come in, come in. I've got a kettle on.” He ushered me inside, his hand a reassuring weight between my shoulder blades.
The cottage interior wrapped me in its golden embrace, the crackling fireplace chasing away the autumn chill. The familiar scent of old books, herbs, and Dorian's favorite bergamot tea filled the air. Carefully arranged crystals caught the firelight, casting rainbow shadows across walls lined with ancient texts and magical artifacts. It felt like home. Bones lifted his head from his paws, tail thumping in lazy greeting. I set my terrarium down on the worn oak table, finally letting out the breath I'd been holding.
“I wanted to keep an eye on Grim,” I explained, tapping the glass. The pupa twitched, shadows swirling beneath the translucent surface. “It's been almost a month. Any day now...”
Dorian peered over my shoulder, his presence solid and comforting. “Ah, yes. The anticipation is half the magic, isn't it? Waiting for a new life to unfurl.”
I nodded, my throat tight.
The kettle's whistle pierced the air, a shrill note that made Bones' ears perk up. Dorian patted my shoulder before moving to the stove, the scent of bergamot and honey wafting through the cottage as he poured the steaming tea into mismatched mugs.
“Come, sit,” he said, nodding toward the plush sofa. “You look like you could use a good cuppa.”
I sank into the cushions, their warmth enveloping me like a hug. Dorian pressed a mug into my hands, the heat seeping into my fingers, thawing the chill that always seemed to linger in my bones. He settled beside me, long legs stretched out, socked feet resting on the coffee table.
“So,” he began, his voice a soothing rumble, “how are you holding up, mo stóirín? I know this waiting game isn't easy.”
I shrugged, my gaze drifting back to the terrarium. “I just...I feel like I'm on the edge of something big, you know? Like Grim's transformation is somehow tied to my own.” I let out a shaky laugh. “It's silly, I know.”
Dorian shook his head, his expression softening. “Not at all. The journey of a necromancer is a deeply personal one. It's only natural to see reflections of yourself in your familiar. You two are bonded, after all.”
I took a sip of tea, letting the warmth bloom in my chest. “I guess you're right. It's just...a lot, sometimes. Trying to find my place here at Blackstone, trying to prove myself.” I glanced at Dorian, a wry smile tugging at my lips. “Speaking of proving oneself, how's the new gig treating you? Caretaker of the necropolis and guest lecturer extraordinaire?”
Dorian chuckled, running a hand through his chestnut waves. “It's been an adventure, that's for sure. The necropolis is a demanding mistress, but I'm learning her secrets, bit by bit. And the students...” He shook his head, a fond smile playing on his lips. “They're a bright bunch. Eager to learn, to push the boundaries of what we know about death and what lies beyond.”
“Like a certain dashing professor I know,” I teased, bumping my shoulder against his.
Dorian's eyes sparkled with mirth. “Ah, you flatter me, mo stóirín. I'm just a humble guide, pointing the way.” He took a sip of tea, his gaze turning thoughtful.
“Speaking of pointing the way,” I said, tracing the rim of my mug with a finger, “I wanted to thank you for your guidance with my necromantic botany project. Those extra lessons you gave me on the finer points of funerary flowers really helped everything click into place.” A flush of pride warmed my cheeks. “Professor Nightshade even pulled me aside after class to compliment my 'keen insights' and 'impressive command of the material.'”
Dorian's face lit up, his eyes shining with unmistakable pride. “That's wonderful, Ren! I knew you had it in you. Your passion for this field is evident in everything you do, in the way you pour your heart and soul into your studies.” He reached out, resting a warm hand on my knee. “You have a rare gift, mo stóirín. A sensitivity and intuition that cannot be taught. It's a joy to watch you come into your own, to see your confidence grow with each passing day.”
His words wrapped around my heart like a tender embrace, soothing the doubts and insecurities that so often plagued me.
I looked up at Dorian, my heart swelling with gratitude and something deeper, something that made my pulse flutter like a hummingbird's wings. His green eyes held mine, full of pride, affection, and a tenderness that stole my breath away.
Slowly, as if drawn by an invisible thread, we leaned toward each other, the space between us shrinking until I could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over my lips. My eyes fluttered closed, and then his mouth was on mine, soft and sweet, tasting of bergamot and honey.
The kiss deepened, Dorian's hand sliding up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone with a feather-light touch. I melted into him, my own hands coming up to tangle in his chestnut waves, silken strands slipping through my fingers like water. The world fell away, narrowing down to the press of his lips, the gentle exploration of his tongue, the intoxicating scent of rosemary and pine that clung to his skin.
A sudden fluttering sound broke the spell, drawing us apart, breathless and flushed. We turned as one toward the terrarium, eyes widening as a delicate creature emerged from the shadows, unfurling gossamer wings that shimmered in the firelight.
“Grim,” I breathed, my voice hushed with awe.
I rose from the sofa as if in a trance, Dorian's hand falling away as I drifted toward the terrarium. With trembling fingers, I unlatched the lid, holding my breath as Grim fluttered up to perch on the rim.
He was breathtaking, a delicate masterpiece of shadow and light. His wings, translucent and impossibly thin, bore the intricate designs of an ancient illuminated manuscript, decorated in flowing script and elaborate borders in rich hues of gold, crimson, and midnight blue. As he flexed them gently, the pages seemed to come alive, the words shimmering and dancing like flames.
“Grim,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “You're magnificent!”
The moth preened, clearly pleased with my praise. Then, with a mischievous glint in his obsidian eyes, he launched himself into the air, wings whispering secrets as he flitted about the room.
Dorian let out a low chuckle. “He's got quite the personality, hasn't he?”
I could only nod, transfixed by the sight of Grim exploring his new world. He darted from shelf to shelf, alighting on stacks of books and jars of herbs, his curiosity boundless. Bones watched from his bed, head cocked and tail swishing in lazy arcs.
As I watched Grim flit about the room, my heart swelled with a fierce sort of pride. This extraordinary creature, born of shadow and magic, was mine. My friend, my familiar.
Grim fluttered over to Dorian's desk, landing on an open tome with a thump. I hurried over, Dorian close behind, both of us eager to see what mischief Grim might be up to.
As we watched, Grim began to dance across the pages, his delicate feet tracing patterns in the ancient script. At first, I thought he was simply exploring the texture of the parchment, but then I noticed the words shifting beneath his steps, rearranging themselves into new phrases.
“Ren,” Dorian breathed, his eyes wide with astonishment. “Look!”
I leaned closer, my nose nearly touching the page. There, spelled out in shimmering gold lettering, was a message:
Ren,
In pages and whispers, I've grown,
Fed by the love you’ve always shown.
Through your care, my wings take flight,
A creature born of moonlit night.
With every glance and tender word,
A bond between us, softly stirred.
Though I may change, one truth will stay—
I'm with you now, and every day.
Grim.
I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. “Grim? You...you can communicate?”
“And in rhyming verse, too,” Dorian noted. “He’s quite the scholar, isn’t he?”
Grim fluttered his wings, clearly pleased with our reaction. He hopped off the page and onto my outstretched hand, his tiny feet tickling my skin. I brought him up to eye level, marveling at the intricacy of his patterned wings.
“You never cease to amaze me, Grim,” I murmured, a smile tugging at my lips. “What other secrets do you hold?”
Grim's antennae twitched, and he let out a soft chirp, as if to say, “You'll just have to wait and see.”
Dorian chuckled, his hand coming to rest on the small of my back. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver up my spine, a reminder of the moment we had shared just minutes before. I glanced up at him, my cheeks flushing as our eyes met.
“It seems our Grim is full of surprises,” Dorian said. “Much like his necromancer.”
I pressed a quick kiss to Dorian’s cheek. “I learned from the best.”
Grim flitted from my hand, landing on Dorian's shoulder. He nuzzled against Dorian's cheek, his wings fluttering softly, and Dorian laughed, a rich, warm sound that filled the cottage.
“Well, it seems you have Grim's approval,” I teased, my heart swelling at the sight of my two favorite beings in the world, bonding over their shared affection for me.
Dorian reached up to stroke Grim's delicate wings with a gentle finger. “I'm honored,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “It's not every day one receives the blessing of such a magnificent creature.”
I stepped closer, drawn by the magnetic pull of Dorian's presence. He wrapped his free arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his side. I rested my head on his shoulder, breathing in the comforting scent of him.
We stood like that for a long moment, basking in the warmth of the fire and the joy of Grim's metamorphosis. It felt like a turning point, a new chapter unfolding before us, ripe with possibility.
“I can't wait to see what the future holds,” I murmured, my fingers playing with the hem of Dorian's sweater. “For Grim, for us, for everything.”
Dorian pressed a kiss to my temple, his lips lingering on my skin. “The future is ours to shape, mo stóirín.”
I grinned up at him, my heart full to bursting. “With you by my side, I feel like I can take on the world.”
Grim chirped his agreement, fluttering from Dorian's shoulder to perch atop Bones' head. The boney familiar huffed, but made no move to dislodge his new companion. It seemed our little family was growing by the day.
I leaned into Dorian’s side, content in a way I hadn’t thought possible. The warmth of his touch, the gentle sound of his heartbeat, and the weight of his presence made everything else fade away.
Grim’s wings fluttered lazily as he settled beside Bones, and the cottage was filled with a peaceful stillness, as if the world outside had paused just for us.
I tilted my head up to look at Dorian. “I heard Dean Vane’s trial was coming up.”
Dorian nodded grimly. “Yes, and he’ll be going away for a long time. As he deserves. And we deserve this.”
“What’s this?” I asked cocking my head to the side.
“This.” Dorian gestured around him. “Happiness. Us. Each other. A bright and wonderful future, Ren. Spent together.”
I smiled and settled in against him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
A brief silence fell between us, comfortable and complete, until he murmured again, almost as if testing the weight of the words. “I love you, Ren.”
I closed my eyes, letting the words settle into the space between us. “I love you too, Dorian,” I whispered, my voice thick with the truth of it.
He pulled me closer, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. As Grim's wings cast dancing shadows on the walls and Bones dozed contentedly at our feet, I knew I belonged in this magical cottage, with this extraordinary man, building our own kind of happily ever after.
And there, in that quiet moment, surrounded by our strange little family, I realized that this was the future I’d always dreamt of.