Chapter 21 #3
Sahara’s voice cut cleanly through the others as she called the Goddess, not as if she were dialing a number, but as if she were opening a door that had always been there.
The response was quiet. The quiet that fills a room so completely it becomes its own presence.
Something warm spread outward from Victoria’s sternum, steady and sure, like being wrapped in a memory.
Peace settled in. The kind that could survive a bad day, a worse night, and still show up the next morning with coffee.
“Hands,” Sahara said.
They joined.
Eight witches, one circuit.
Energy sparked at the contact, subtle at first, then building, threading through them in a slow, deliberate current.
Victoria felt it move from palm to palm, up her arm, across her shoulders, down her spine.
It wasn’t overwhelming. It was right, like this was what her magic had been waiting to do all along.
Even though in this body, she had no supernatural magic.
She glanced around the circle. Magda’s eyes were half-lidded, focused somewhere deeper than the fire.
Joell looked relaxed, which was always suspicious, but her grip was steady and grounded.
Crystal was smiling as if she’d just discovered a new flavor of ice cream.
Rayna stood braced, like if the magic tried anything funny, she’d tackle it.
Brianna mouthed the chant with fierce concentration, only flicking her gaze upward when her owl shifted in the branches.
Rayna met Victoria’s eyes for a beat and gave the smallest nod.
We’ve got you.
The words weren’t spoken. They didn’t need to be.
Gratitude swelled up, unexpectedly, and the back of her eyes stung. Victoria tightened her grip, letting it move through her instead of bottling it up like she usually did.
They weren’t just celebrating the harvest. They were celebrating survival and progress. Celebrating found family. Celebrating the fact that they’d come this far without accidentally blowing up a coastline, timeline, or deadline. Small wins.
Sahara released their hands and gestured to the ingredients. Five witches stepped forward and picked up one of the rare plants.
“Let’s not mess this part up,” Lioness said brightly.
“Confidence,” Joell replied.
One by one, the components went into the cauldron. Five rare plants, each handled with the kind of care usually reserved for explosives or very expensive skincare. Leaves, roots, petals… strange shapes and stranger colors slipped into the dark water with soft plunks.
Sahara added the stone dust from Chichen Itza last. It fell in a pale stream, catching the firelight for a split second before disappearing beneath the surface.
They all leaned in, just a little.
Waiting.
The cauldron sat there. The fire crackled. A log shifted. Above, the owl rustled its feathers.
“That’s it?” Brianna whispered.
“Not every spell needs to be a Broadway production,” Joell said.
Lioness squinted at the pot. “I was expecting at least one ominous glow.”
“We’re not casting it yet,” Sahara reminded them, calm and unbothered. “We’re preparing.”
“Ah,” Crystal said. “Pre-glow phase.”
“Everything happens for a reason,” Lioness reminded her. Some of the witches groaned. “I know it sounds placating, but it’s true!”
Victoria let out a breath she’d been holding.
The lack of spectacle didn’t feel disappointing.
It felt intentional. Like the magic was waiting for the last ingredient.
She trusted Duke to come back with the corpse plant…
eventually. Sometimes timing works out for the best, even if it doesn’t seem like it.
They closed the working with thanks, voices softer now, the energy easing from a roar to a steady pulse.
Gratitude rolled through the circle, not forced, not by rote, but real.
Victoria was grateful for the ingredients gathered.
For the fact that, somehow, against all odds and some questionable decisions, they had almost everything they needed.
Almost.
Victoria’s gaze flicked toward the edge of the clearing. No Duke. Not yet.
“Patience,” Sahara murmured, catching her look of longing.
“Working on it.”
They opened the circle after thanking the deities for attending their ritual and releasing the energy, like a silent sigh. The boundary dissolved, and the outside world returned with crickets, wind, and the distant creak of branches.
“Food!” Magda declared, already heading toward the table where the feast had been laid out.
“Bless you,” Crystal said. “I hate going first, but I’m so hungry that I wanted to.”
Roasted vegetables, still steaming. Bread with a crust that cracked just right when torn. Wine that caught the lantern light like a garnet.
Victoria paused a moment, appreciating that everything was already done.
“They didn’t let you cook,” Joell said, handing her a cup.
“I’d be offended, but I’d sound like an ungrateful douche,” Victoria replied.
“You’re welcome.”
Laughter came easily. Conversation overlapped, bounced, spread into side tangents about everything and nothing. Someone told a story that involved a cursed blender. Someone else insisted it had been possessed, not cursed, which was a very important distinction.
Victoria found herself laughing along, the tension that had been coiled tight in her chest for days finally unwinding.
Above them, the moon climbed, bright and unapologetic.
When the last of the food was gone, and the wine had dwindled to a few sips, they drifted back toward the mansion in loose clusters, still talking, still connected by something that didn’t require a circle.
Victoria lingered a moment behind the others. The ritual space looked ordinary again. Just grass. Just trees. But she could still feel it. That warmth. That sense of being exactly where she was supposed to be, even if everything else about her life was currently questionable.
She glanced down at her hands. Same foreign hands. Same foreign body. But for the first time, it felt like a temporary problem.
Behind her, the mansion lights glowed through the trees, warm and steady. Home. Not the penthouse apartment with the view she loved… Here. With the people she loved.
Victoria turned and followed her witch sisters; the Goddess’s presence still wrapped around her shoulders like an invisible cloak.
Whatever happened next, whatever she looked like when this was over, she wouldn’t be facing it alone.