Chapter 6
Sahara slept for twenty minutes. Maybe less. It was hard to tell. Time got slippery when the obelisk kept brushing her mind.
Lioness sat cross-legged on the infirmary floor, Desert Fox asleep across Sahara’s ankles like a fuzzy ankle weight.
Rayna paced outside the door, muttering in increasingly creative curses.
Brianna had tried to make tea, burned the water, and was now aggressively reorganizing the spice rack.
Joell was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she was talking to Magda about possible potions to break the connection.
Ezra leaned against the door jamb—handy to run in either direction.
When Sahara woke, Ezra was the first one to notice. His head lifted, eyes focusing on her instantly. Not like he’d been watching her sleep… He hadn’t, but he had been listening to her long, slow breaths. “You’re back,” he murmured.
Sahara blinked at him. “Did I go somewhere?”
Ezra hesitated. “You… dimmed.”
Lioness perked up. “Dimmed? Explain ‘dimmed,’ using small words.”
Ezra looked faintly pained. “Her aura dimmed. Went quiet. Like something muffled it.”
“That something being the obelisk?” Sahara asked.
Ezra’s gaze darkened. “Yes. Probably.”
Rayna’s voice snapped through the doorway. “Everyone out. Meeting in the library. Sahara, if you so much as wobble, someone is carrying you.”
The library's lamps brightened as they entered. The chandelier flickered, the hearth flared. Rayna shoved a stack of books aside so Sahara could lie down. The library liked her. Usually.
Ezra stepped inside last, and the house stayed quiet. Whew!
Sahara sat up, sipping water and pretending her heartbeat wasn’t tap-dancing. Ezra positioned himself across the table, close enough to see her clearly, far enough to avoid upsetting Rayna’s territorial instincts.
Rayna slapped her palms on the table. “Okay. Ground rules. One: nobody dies. Two: nobody gets dragged into a stone wormhole. Three: nobody kisses anyone unless I approve it first.”
Lioness choked. Joell wheezed. Sahara turned red. Ezra, infuriatingly, did not react.
“Rayna,” Sahara hissed.
“What?” Rayna snapped. “I know that look you’re trying not to have.”
Lioness whispered, “She means the Ezra look.”
Ezra folded his hands. “We should discuss the imprint.”
“Yes, please,” Rayna said. “Let’s do that.”
Ezra focused on Sahara. He was careful, steady, patient. “Tell me what you felt before you woke.”
Sahara swallowed. “It was like walking down a dark hallway. Except I wasn’t walking. Something else was. You know how a passing train can make you feel like you’re going backward, but your train is standing still? It was like that.”
Ezra’s expression tightened. “It’s reaching faster.”
Rayna glared. “Fan-fucking-tastic. Could you phrase that in a way that doesn’t make me want to push somebody into the Hudson?”
“Ick, don’t do that, Rayna,” Crystal said. She had been quiet up to that point. In fact, she had been spending more time with Mason ever since her run-in with the Sea Witch.
Ezra inclined his head. “The more it reaches, the more it learns. The more it learns, the stronger its pull.”
Joell frowned. “So how do we stop it?”
“There are three kinds of unbinding,” Ezra said. “A reverse binding, burning, and rewriting.”
Lioness squinted. “What’s rewriting? Because burning sounds painful.”
“Rewriting,” Ezra said gently, “reminds her magic what belongs to her, and what doesn’t.”
His gaze found Sahara’s and held it.
Something in Sahara’s chest fluttered. It was unexpected, intense, and inconvenient.
Rayna noticed. “Absolutely not!”
Ezra blinked. “What?”
“Nothing,” Sahara squeaked. “Go on. Please.”
Ezra cleared his throat. “Rewriting requires three anchors: one tied to her power, one tied to her spirit, and one tied to the house.”
Joell raised a hand. “The house?”
Lioness slapped the table. “Spirit? You mean her Soul?”
Rayna crossed her arms. “As her supervisor—”
Sahara groaned. “Please stop. I want to hear what the wise mage has to say.”
Ezra continued, unfazed. “The ritual must be done tonight.”
Sahara nodded. “What do we need?”
Ezra answered softly, “You. Awake. Present. And unwilling to be claimed.”
A spark passed between them. It was quiet, warm, but impossible to ignore.
Lioness mouthed, “Oh my gods.”
Rayna buried her face in her hands. “Every time. Every. Damn. Time.”
Preparation took two hours.
The mansion tried to help by dragging rugs into place, dimming lights, and nudging chairs, but it also tipped Ezra into a wall before Sahara scolded it.
“House,” she murmured, touching the wood, “he’s helping. Ignore the others.”
The vibration softened.
Ezra stared at her like he wasn’t used to anyone softening anything for him.
Lioness leaned in. “Girl, he is looking at you.”
“Stop,” Sahara whispered.
“I refuse.”
Magda threw herbs in the air, as if blessing the couple after a wedding.
Rayna rolled her eyes. “If anyone flirts during a magical crisis, I swear—”
Ezra raised a brow. “Flirting?”
Sahara nearly died of embarrassment.
At midnight, the ritual circle thrummed. All eight witches were present. Candles flickered with Sahara’s heartbeat. A bowl of salt glowed faintly. A strand of Lioness’s hair floated at the center like a living anchor.
Ezra stepped in last.
The house trembled but permitted him.
“Stay behind me,” Lioness warned.
“I’m not the threat,” Ezra murmured.
“Prove it.”
Sahara lifted her chin. “Both of you. Focus.”
Ezra closed his eyes and began murmuring—not a spell, but something older. Something that sounded like he was coaxing the air into a Gregorian chant.
Magic pooled beneath Sahara’s feet. Her skin tingled. Her vision blurred… then a flash and a vision. Stone. Water. Glyphs glowing under the surface. A hand reaching through.
Sahara flinched.
Ezra was instantly there, steady, present. “Stay with me.”
Light snapped through the circle.
Lioness braced her.
Rayna chanted a spell to strengthen the barrier.
Joell added protection to the circle with additional salt.
The obelisk’s voice slithered into Sahara’s skull, whispering a name sounding almost like hers. Samira…
Ezra’s voice cut through it, fierce and low. “Remember who you are. Not what it wants you to be.”
Something tore free inside her, like a hook ripped from muscle. She gasped, and light exploded around her. Sahara pitched forward, and Ezra caught her fully this time, arms strong, breath even.
“You’re back,” he whispered.
Sahara swallowed. “Was I gone? Again?”
Ezra’s eyes softened. “Not in the physical sense.” He set her on her feet.
Lioness collapsed dramatically, spread-eagled and staring at the ceiling. “Well. That was awful.”
Rayna panted. “Seconded.”
Joell adjusted her glasses. “I think the house fainted.”
Sahara leaned into Ezra, just long enough to whisper, “Thank you.”
Ezra’s breath caught. “Always,” he said with a smile.
And the house, for once, didn’t object.
“So, what are we going to do about the obelisk?” Sahara asked. “I think we need to bind it and rebury it. Or find out where it came from and—”
Rayna snapped to attention. “We? Oh, no, no, no… You aren’t going near that thing! The rest of us will figure it out.”
Ezra raised his hand. “I volunteer.”
Rayna cocked her head. “Why would you do that? This isn’t your assignment.”
“Because I don’t want whatever is imprisoned in that thing getting its greedy hands on the woman I l—like.”
Rayna folded her arms. After eyeing him for several seconds, she said. “Fine. I believe you want the same thing we do. Freedom for Sahara.”
“Freedom for Sahara,” he echoed and nodded once.
“Freedom for Sahara!” the witches chanted in unison, as if at a protest march.