20. Caius #2
We watch the mist curl in response to the distant claiming—taking on that golden tinge, celebrating a union that the Preservers spent centuries trying to prevent.
Somewhere in Mistvale, two people are discovering what we discovered.
That the magic chooses. That resistance is futile. That love, in the end, finds a way.
“We should go back,” Anouk says eventually. “Face the council. Begin the work.”
“We should.”
Neither of us moves.
“Five more minutes,” she decides.
“Ten.”
“Greedy wolf.”
“Practical wolf. You’ll thank me later.”
We stay for twenty.
The town is different when we return.
Not physically—the cobblestone streets are the same, the shops unchanged, the mist still settling into familiar corners. But the atmosphere has shifted. People stop to stare as we pass. Conversations pause. Eyes track our movements with expressions ranging from delighted to scandalized.
“The gossip network has been busy,” Anouk observes.
“The gossip network lives for moments like this. They’re probably already planning commemorative pastries.”
“That’s horrifying.”
“That’s community.” I take her hand, deliberately visible, and feel her startle before relaxing into the contact. “Let them stare. Let them talk. We have nothing to hide anymore.”
We pass Moonpetal Bakery. Through the glass, I can see Sunny already decorating cookies in shapes that look suspiciously like wolves and witches.
“She’s making themed desserts,” Anouk mutters.
“She made themed desserts for Torin and Sakura too. The bear-shaped ones were surprisingly popular.”
We pass The Crescent Cup, where Marcus and Thalia observe from the shadows with vampiric poise that somehow conveys approval. Marcus raises his coffee cup in a silent toast. Thalia actually smiles—a rare occurrence that probably counts as effusive celebration by vampire standards.
We pass Thornwick Books, where Berry has abandoned all pretense of subtlety and is pressed against the glass like a child watching a parade. She’s taking notes. Frantically.
“She’s definitely writing about this,” Anouk mutters.
“She’s had a chapter on us since long before we claimed. The book probably has multiple volumes by now.”
“I don’t want to know how you know that.”
“Elio told me. He has sources everywhere.”
We reach the apothecary just as a familiar figure emerges from Duskfire Brewery across the street. Zeph spots us immediately, her face splitting into a grin that promises maximum entertainment.
“There they are!” She cups her hands around her mouth like a megaphone. “The alphas and witches of Mistvale! Figured it out at last! Took you long enough!”
“Zeph—” Anouk starts.
“No, no, this requires celebration! I’ve been preparing a special batch for exactly this occasion!” Zeph is already retreating into the brewery. “Come back tonight! Both of you! I’m calling the girls! And the boys! Everyone needs to witness this!”
The door slams behind her before either of us can respond.
“She’s been saving that batch,” Anouk sighs.
“For how long?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
We’re still standing on the street when Leire appears from Whisperwind Charms, Aslan a massive presence behind her. Sakura emerges from Radiant Aura Studio with Torin in tow. Within moments, we’re surrounded by friends who seem to have materialized from thin air.
“You claimed her for real.” Leire hugs Anouk with fierce enthusiasm.
Sakura bounces on her heels, weather magic crackling with barely contained joy. “The mist turned gold last night. All across The Hollow. Everyone knew.” She hugs Anouk too. “I’m so happy for you both.”
“Thank you. Please stop making it rain indoors.”
“Sorry! Emotional weather. I’m working on it.”
Aslan claps me on the shoulder with enough force to stagger a lesser wolf. “Congratulations, brother. You stopped being noble and just took what you wanted.”
“That’s a concerning way to phrase it.”
“It’s accurate. You’ve been martyring yourself since the day you met her. ‘She deserves better, the pack comes first, I can’t be selfish.’” His imitation of my voice is unflattering and uncomfortably accurate. “Meanwhile, she was waiting for you to get over yourself and just ask.”
“I didn’t ask. The magic just—”
“Exploded publicly in front of the entire council? Yes, I heard. Rhodes has documented it extensively. There are diagrams.”
“And subsections,” Torin adds mildly. “The subsections have footnotes.”
The group migrates naturally toward the brewery, conversations overlapping, laughter echoing off the cobblestones. Anouk walks beside me, her hand in mine, her magic humming contentment that I can almost feel through our proximity.
This is what we were fighting for, I realize. Not just the right to claim each other. The right to have this—community, friendship, the easy joy of people who care about us.
The right to be happy.
The impromptu celebration at Duskfire Brewery lasts well into the evening.
Zeph’s special batch turns out to be called “Resolution Ale,” and its side effects include “enhanced truthfulness” and “spontaneous declarations of affection.” By the third round, Torin has composed three poems for Sakura (all terrible, all received with genuine delight), and Aslan has declared his undying devotion to Leire at least four times.
Veren arrives fashionably late, takes one look at the pitcher, and announces he’ll be drinking exactly none of it.
“Enhanced truthfulness sounds like a personal nightmare.” He drops into the booth beside Elio and steals his drink instead, on principle. “I have several ongoing schemes that depend entirely on nobody knowing what I actually think.”
“You could simply not scheme,” Rhodes says, without looking up from his notes.
“And deprive myself of my one joy in life? Rhodes. I thought we’d moved past this.”
“This is chaos,” Anouk observes from our corner booth.
“This is family.” I wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Get used to it.”
“I’ve never had this. Friends who aren’t intimidated by me. People who see me as more than the coven leader.”
“You have it now.” I press a kiss to her temple. “You have all of it. For as long as you want.”
“Forever, then.”
“Forever.”
Zeph appears at our table with a fresh pitcher and a grin that promises trouble. “More Resolution Ale? I’ve noticed you two haven’t made any embarrassing declarations yet. The batch seems to be working on everyone else.”
“We made our embarrassing declarations in private,” Anouk replies. “Like civilized adults.”
“Boring. Extremely boring.” Zeph tops off our glasses anyway. “Speaking of declarations—my magic’s been weird lately.”
I exchange a glance with Anouk. “Weird how?”
“Stable. Predictable. Like my brewing actually does what I want it to do instead of creating random side effects.” Zeph frowns at her own glass. “It’s unsettling. I’ve gotten used to the chaos.”
“That sounds like your magic is maturing,” Anouk observes carefully. “Settling into its proper form.”
“Or—” Zeph’s eyes narrow with sudden suspicion. “Or that matchmaking witch has me on her list. Peach keeps appearing at my brewery with cobbler and meaningful looks.”
“Meaningful looks?”
“Like she knows a secret I don’t. It’s extremely annoying.”
Across the room, Rhodes has already produced his documentation kit.
“Rhodes, please stop studying us,” Aslan calls out.
“Science doesn’t stop for social occasions.”
“That’s not actually science. That’s just you writing things down.”
“All science is writing things down. Eventually.”