Chapter 24
HAPPY FOR NOW
brANDON
“Are you sure about this?” Brandon asked, hand hovering over the hidden door that led to his underground sanctuary.
Muriel rolled her eyes, the Codex warm and purring in her arms. “We've been over this. The Codex needs a proper home, and your vault is the safest place for it. Unless…”
“Unless?”
“Unless there’s something in there you don’t want me to see. Do you secretly keep body parts in jars? A porn stash? Pictures of you in your awkward, gangly phase?
Brandon felt her teasing affection and couldn't help but smile. “I ditched my porn stash years ago, and I have never been gangly.”
“Hm. Body parts, then.”
“Maybe,” he teased.
“Open the door.”
He pressed his hand to the wood, and wards shimmered to life, recognizing his blood. The door swung open, revealing stairs descending into darkness. Orbs of mage-light flickered to life as they descended, responding to his presence.
Brandon watched Muriel's face as she took in his sanctuary—the enormous underground chamber, the shelves packed with centuries of collected knowledge, the artifacts that gleamed with old magic. Her eyes lit with wonder.
Not greed. Not the calculating assessment of someone looking to exploit what he had.
Just genuine wonder and appreciation for the beauty of it.
“Brandon,” she breathed. “This is incredible.”
Something in his chest eased. “It's been in my family for generations. Everything Merlin collected and left behind. Everything we've collected since.”
She moved deeper into the space, and Brandon followed, seeing it through her eyes. The leather-bound journals in their place of honor. The spatial magic that made the chamber larger than it should be. The protective wards layered so thick they were almost visible.
“These are Merlin's journals,” Muriel said, stopping in front of the section he'd known she'd notice. Her fingers hovered over the spines but didn't touch. “Written in code. Only someone with his blood can read them.”
“You've been paying attention.”
“Hard not to when your boyfriend is descended from the most famous mage in history.” She turned to look at him, eyes bright. “Have you read them all?”
“Most. Some are still difficult.” Brandon moved to stand beside her, running his fingers along the familiar spines. “He documented everything. His research, his failures, his regrets.”
“About the Lady of the Lake?”
“Among other things.” He pulled one volume, opening it to a passage he'd read a hundred times.
“Here. This one's from late in his life.
'I fear I have built a cage of my own making.
She asked why I hesitated, and I could not tell her the truth—that once sealed, she would be bound to me for eternity.
Now I am the one imprisoned, and I wonder: if I had been honest from the first, would she have chosen differently? '”
“Nimue didn’t know what she had,” Muriel murmured softly. “I’m glad I didn’t make the same mistake.”
“But I nearly did.”
“Your heart was in the right place. And you told me the truth—eventually. That’s what matters.”
He felt her certainty, her love, her absolute faith that they'd gotten it right where Merlin had gotten it wrong.
“Come on,” she said, hefting the Codex. “Let's find this old book a proper home.”
Brandon led her to the center of the vault, where a raised pillar of smooth stone sat. Ancient wards radiated from it, designed specifically to preserve and protect.
“Merlin used to keep his most precious items here,” he explained. “The wards are some of the strongest I've ever seen—even stronger than what protects the rest of the collection. If you're comfortable with it, the Codex could stay here.”
He'd barely finished speaking before the Codex practically leaped from Muriel's arms onto the pedestal, settling with a satisfied thump.
Muriel laughed. “Well. I guess that's decided.”
“Hm. It needs something.” Brandon was already moving toward a cabinet where he stored preservation materials. “A stand, cushioning, something to—”
“It likes silk,” Muriel said. “Deep green. The color of forest shadows.”
Brandon stopped, turned to look at her. “The Codex told you that?”
“Sort of.” She touched the grimoire gently, reverently. “I just knew. Like I know it's content here. Happy, even.”
“Keeper and Codex,” Brandon murmured, watching them together. “The journals talked about this. The bond between them, how it deepens over time until they're almost one being.”
“Does that scare you?”
“No.” He meant it. Through the bond, he could feel her connection to the Codex—how it complemented rather than competed with their mate bond. “It's beautiful. You're becoming what you were always meant to be.”
Brandon had bolts of fabric suitable for preserving magical artifacts and together, they created a nest for the Codex. Deep green silk, soft as water, with cushioning underneath. The ancient grimoire settled into it with a sigh, like it had finally come home after centuries of wandering.
Brandon stood back, admiring their work. The Codex looked right there, centered on the pedestal where Merlin had once kept his greatest treasures. They’d come full circle, he thought. The text his ancestor had spent his entire life searching for, finally in the Emrys vault.
Because of Muriel.
Then the Codex did something Brandon had never seen before.
It opened itself, and golden light spilled out. Not the visions it had shown Muriel before, but something gentler. Warmer. Text appeared on a blank page, writing itself in elegant script:
Thank you, daughter of earth. Thank you, son of sky. For giving this old soul a home worthy of the knowledge it guards.
Brandon's breath caught. “Did it just—”
“Thank us,” Muriel finished, her voice thick with emotion. “Yes.”
“And it called me 'son of sky.'” He stared at the glowing text. “Merlin's line. The journals mentioned that—earth and sky, the old magic before the Consilium divided everything into neat categories.”
“We're completing something,” Muriel said softly. “Something that started centuries ago. Something our ancestors couldn't finish.”
The Codex's light pulsed once more in agreement, then settled into a warm, contented glow.
For a moment, everything was still.
Then the air shimmered.
Magic swirled up from the Codex in ribbons of green and gold, illuminating the vault with soft light. The ancient pages rustled though no wind touched them. Brandon felt Muriel go rigid beside him.
“Do you see—” she breathed.
“Yes.” His voice was rough with wonder.
The light coalesced into images, like looking through a window into the past. A young woman stood in a sunlit cottage garden, her silvery blonde hair loose around her shoulders. She looked so much like Muriel it stole Brandon's breath.
Beside her stood a mage with auburn hair and kind green eyes. He was laughing at something she'd said, his whole face alight with joy. When he looked at her, there was no mistaking how he felt about her.
Love. Pure and absolute.
The scene shifted. The woman's belly was rounded with pregnancy.
The mage knelt before her, his hands gentle on her stomach.
He leaned in and pressed a kiss there, his eyes closing as if in prayer.
When he looked up at the woman—at Siobhan—his expression held such fierce tenderness it made Brandon's chest ache.
The mage pulled something from his pocket. A small carved wooden toy—a horse, lovingly shaped. He showed it to Siobhan with boyish pride, and she laughed, pulling him up for a kiss.
“You can see it too?” Muriel's voice cracked. “The vision?”
Brandon nodded, not trusting his voice. He'd heard Jason's intel about Declan Rourke. But seeing the truth of what that man had felt touched his soul.
The vision shifted again. Declan teaching Siobhan how to layer wards, his patience endless. Declan looking at her sleeping face with such devotion. Declan's hand always finding hers, their fingers intertwining the way Brandon’s and Muriel’s often did.
A man who loved her. Who would have loved their daughter.
The light faded, the images dissolving like mist.
Muriel stood frozen, tears streaming down her face. But when she looked at Brandon, she was smiling.
“He loved her,” she whispered. “He loved me.”
Brandon pulled her close, feeling her tremble against him. Not with sobs, but with something that felt like relief. Like a wound finally beginning to heal.
“The Codex wanted you to know,” he said quietly. “It wanted you to see the truth.”
She nodded against his chest, then pulled back enough to look at the ancient grimoire resting peacefully in its new home. “Thank you,” she whispered to it.
The Codex's pages rustled once more.
Brandon pulled Muriel close, and they stood there for a long moment, just looking at the ancient grimoire in its new home.
“You know what it needs?” Muriel said suddenly.
“What?”
“A friend.” She moved to a nearby shelf, pulling down a massive tome with a cover embossed in symbols that matched the Codex's. “This one. They have the same energy. The same... I don't know, vibe?”
“Are you trying to set up the Codex on a date?”
“I'm saying ancient, sentient magical texts probably get lonely.” She set the tome on the platform next to the Codex. “And look—they already match. It's perfect.”
The Codex's pages rustled, and if Brandon didn't know better, he'd swear it sounded pleased.
“I can't believe this is my life,” he said, unable to stop smiling. “Finding companionship for magical grimoires.”
“Our life,” Muriel corrected. She turned in his arms to face him.
“Right.” The word came out rough with emotion. He'd spent so long guarding this place alone, keeping Merlin's legacy safe by himself. Having someone to share it with, someone who understood its value and treated it with respect.
It was everything.
“Thank you,” he said. “For understanding what this means. For treating it like it matters.”
She touched his face gently. “This is your history. Your family. Of course it matters.”
He kissed her then, long and deep.