Chapter 29 Krystal #2
Aurelia uncapped the chalk and drew a simple rune on the table. "This is a focusing sigil. Like a funnel. When you concentrate, aim your power at the center."
Bryce stared, then closed his eyes, wolf plush in a death grip. His brow creased with concentration. At first, nothing happened, just the slow, shuddering breath Eleanor had taught him. But then the air shimmered. Not much, a shift in light, as if the air itself was waking up.
The chalked rune glowed faint blue. The sparks in Bryce’s fingers drifted toward it, drawn like iron filings to a magnet.
Eleanor’s hand tightened on his shoulder. "Good. Now let it go. Don’t force it."
He exhaled, and the sparks collapsed into the center of the rune, igniting it. The chalk burned away, leaving a perfect circle of blackened residue. The three of us adults exchanged looks, shock, awe, maybe a little fear.
Bryce looked up, face bright. "Did I do it?"
"You did," Aurelia said, her tone edged with excitement. "That was perfect, B. Most adults can’t manage that on the first try."
He beamed, chest puffed out. "Can I show Dad when he comes home?"
I nodded, trying to keep my own field from crackling with emotion. "Absolutely," I said. "He’ll be so proud."
Aurelia caught my eye, her smile broad. "We’ll run a few more exercises, then take it outside. No use lighting the kitchen on fire if we can avoid it."
I nodded, grateful for the segue.
They worked through more runes, each one a little harder, a little more focused.
Eleanor stayed behind Bryce, coaching him through every breath.
Aurelia handled the technical stuff, angles, pressure, the tiny details that separated control from chaos.
Their styles couldn’t have been more different.
Eleanor’s was all soft encouragement and patience, a careful guidance that made every step feel safe.
Aurelia’s was brisk, almost surgical, her corrections clipped but never unkind.
Bryce responded to both, matching his energy to whoever spoke. With Eleanor, he was gentler, letting the magic ooze out in slow drips. With Aurelia, he went for broke, launching sparks and testing the limits of what the crystals could take.
After half an hour, the table was scorched in three places, and Bryce’s shirt had a fresh burn hole on the sleeve. But the pride on his face was worth every bit of the mess.
Eleanor pulled out her phone. "I promised your mother we’d take pictures, remember?"
Bryce grinned, then posed with his hands splayed over the last glowing rune. The wolf plush peeked out from under his arm, singed but still present. Eleanor snapped a few shots, then scrolled through, showing him each one.
"Can we send one to Uncle Nathan?" he asked.
"Of course," I said, and Eleanor did, her thumb dancing across the screen.
Aurelia started packing up, but Bryce caught her hand. "Can we do the outside practice now? You said it’s safer."
She glanced at me, eyebrows raised. "If you’re up for it?"
"Let’s go," I said, opening the back door.
The yard was muddy, but the sun had burned off most of the morning chill. Bryce charged out, stopping at the first patch of grass dry enough to kneel on. He waited, eyes big.
Aurelia took a stick and traced another rune in the dirt. This one was more complex, looping back on itself. She stepped aside, letting Bryce study it.
"Same as before," she said. "But this time, aim for the ground. Imagine the energy sinking down, not out."
Bryce nodded. Eleanor stood behind him again, hands light but steady. He inhaled, held it, then exhaled. The grass around the rune shivered, and a pulse of blue raced along the lines, scorching the dirt but not the plants. The air filled with the smell of fresh earth and a hint of smoke.
Aurelia clapped, genuinely delighted. "You’re a natural. Seriously, Krystal, you couldn’t pay for better results."
I smiled, pride swelling.
Bryce looked at me, hope flickering. "Am I weird, Mom?"
I knelt and hugged him. "You’re amazing. And you’re exactly what this family needed."
He hugged back, wolf plush mashed between us.
Aurelia cleared her throat, then turned to me. "With proper training, he’ll be extraordinary. You have my word on that."
Eleanor nodded, her eyes damp. "He’s already there."
After the last of the sparks died down and Bryce had run his energy off in the yard, he vanished to the living room, calling out that he needed to check his high score.
Aurelia packed up her kit and offered a wink before heading out.
For a moment, the house was quiet. Just me and Eleanor, standing in the kitchen among the scorched marks and the faint citrus tang of lemon cleaner.
"Stay for tea?" I asked, surprising myself. I'd almost asked her a couple of times, and she'd looked hopefully at me every day before leaving, but for some reason today I did it.
Eleanor beamed. "I’d like that."
I set the kettle on, hands suddenly awkward with the old, chipped mugs and the last of the fancy loose-leaf. She moved to the living room and settled into the corner of the couch, hands clasped in her lap, gaze drifting across the photo wall.
When I came in, she hadn’t moved. I set her cup down, took the other side of the couch, and waited.
The silence stretched out. It felt like two people bracing for impact.
Eleanor cradled the mug, watching the curls of steam. "You have a beautiful home," she said, and for a second I almost laughed at the banality of it.
"Thank you." My voice came out hoarse. "We try."
She nodded. "I never meant to hurt you," she said. She didn’t look at me, but her grip on the mug was white-knuckled. "The spell, I wanted to protect you. You were pregnant and alone, and I panicked."
I stared into my tea, waiting for the old anger to bubble up, but it didn’t. It was just sadness now. "Protect me from what?"
Eleanor shrugged, her shoulders so small and sloped they made her look ancient.
"From men like your father, for starters. Quin was nothing like his brother Nathan. He was a good man, but he was not an easy man. I wanted something different for you. I wanted you saved from every disaster that followed him through our house. I thought if I guided you to stability, if I made you less susceptible to reckless choices, you’d land somewhere safe.
I never meant to take away all of your choices. Or your mate."
I set my mug down and flexed my hands, willing them not to shake. "You took away more than that, Mom. You took away the part of me that knows who I am. I thought I was broken. I spent ten years thinking I was unlovable because you decided you couldn’t trust me to make my own mistakes."
Her eyes filled, and she wiped at them, embarrassed. "I know. I don't know how to express how sorry I am."
I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t. I was so tired of fighting old battles. "You could have just trusted me."
Eleanor nodded. "I should have."
We sat with that for a while. In the other room, Bryce cackled at something on the TV, his laughter rolling through the house. I thought of all the years he’d missed with his grandmother, all the birthdays I’d filled with cake and presents and the wolf pack.
"I’m sorry I kept you away from him," I said, not expecting to. "He needed you. I needed you."
Eleanor reached across the cushion and put her hand over mine. Her skin was thin and cool, but her grip was strong. "I want to be here now," she said. "Let me make it up to you both."
I squeezed her hand. "Okay."
The next hour passed in small conversation, the kind that builds bridges from the rubble of the old ones.
We talked about the garden, Bryce's obsession with space documentaries, and her coven.
Each story was a little less stilted, a little more like the old days before everything fell apart.
We'd never been close, but this was better than yesterday.
When the tea was gone, Eleanor stood. "I should let you get back to your evening."
I got up, too, and walked her to the door. Instead of the usual polite nod, I hugged her. It was quick, a little awkward, but real. She hugged back, her arms shaking.
"See you tomorrow for Bryce’s lesson?" I asked.
She smiled, hope lighting her face. "I’ll be here."
She walked down the porch, her shadow long in the late afternoon. For the first time, she looked lighter, as if the guilt she’d carried was finally starting to dissolve.
I closed the door, leaned against it, and let out a breath I’d been holding for a decade.
Outside, the world waited, big, uncertain, full of new disasters. But inside, the weight I’d lived with was less than it had been that morning. Maybe not gone, but light enough that I could finally see past it.
I went to the living room, scooped Bryce into a hug, and promised myself that from now on, we’d fight for every good day we got.