A Few Weeks Later At The Festival
The smell of cinnamon, apples, and pumpkin spice wafted through the air, mixing with the cool crispness of the autumn breeze.
The Halloway's Hearth stall was bustling, surrounded by the warm glow of lanterns and the steady hum of the annual festival in Autumn's Hollow.
Everywhere I looked, there were bursts of color — fiery reds, burnt oranges, deep golds — the very essence of fall wrapped around the town like a cozy blanket.
Children ran past, laughing and chasing each other, while adults meandered between the stalls, admiring the crafts, baked goods, and fall harvests.
Straw bales and pumpkins lined the streets, jack-o'-lanterns glowing softly in the early evening light.
The whole town was alive with the spirit of autumn, but this year felt even more special.
It was our first festival since the woods had been restored. Since we'd balanced the magic. The darkness was gone. The Hollow was safe. The world was alive again, thriving, and it showed in every corner of town.
We were free. All of us.
We were home.
"Need a hand with that, little witch?" Orias' voice pulled me from my thoughts.
I turned to see him standing beside me at the stall, sleeves rolled up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He was holding a tray of freshly baked pumpkin muffins, actually holding it correctly this time, which felt like real progress after several weeks of supervised baking lessons.
His eyes glowed that familiar soft pink-violet in the fading light as he set the tray down, grinning at me in a way that still made my toes curl every single time.
"I've got it, but thanks," I teased, brushing a stray bit of pink hair from my face. "You've been slacking all day. Someone has to keep things running smoothly."
"Slacking?" He raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. "I've been working this stall with you since sunrise. I deserve at least a little credit. Perhaps a kiss?"
I laughed and kissed him anyway. The festival had been an absolute whirlwind, but the twins had stayed by my side the whole time, playful energy keeping me going even when my feet had started to ache hours ago.
"Don't ignore me," Rowan called from the other end of the stall, elbow-deep in a box of napkins he'd been meant to restock ten minutes ago and clearly hadn't. "I've also been working extremely hard today. Emotionally, if not physically."
"You ate more muffins than you sold."
"Quality control is exhausting." Orias defended his brother.
Even Dad had helped bake that morning, kneading dough with a focus that had turned quickly into genuine enjoyment, flour dusted through his greying hair by the time we'd finished.
He'd taken to the bakery faster than any of us expected, claiming it reminded him of something steady in a life that had otherwise flipped entirely upside down in the space of a few short weeks.
Cian had enrolled at the local college, determined to carve out something new for himself rather than just picking up exactly where he'd left off years ago.
It wasn't easy — adjusting to a world that had moved on without him, learning to use a phone properly, discovering that half the shops he remembered had closed and been replaced twice over.
But the town had folded around both of them with more warmth than I'd expected, the whole Hollow apparently more than willing to welcome back two men everyone had quietly mourned for years.
We'd make sure they got the best out of whatever came next. That one day the years they'd lost would feel like a footnote instead of the whole story.
"Yakob! There you are." A woman's voice cut through the stall noise, warm and familiar, and I looked up to see Mrs. Hartley making her way over, ginger cookie already in hand from some other stall, cheeks pink from the cold.
"I saved you a seat at the cider tent. You still owe me that story about the football league you've apparently decided to obsess over. "
Dad's whole face lit up in a way that made my chest do something complicated and really fucking weird. "Right. Yes. Give me two minutes, I promised Amber I'd finish this batch first."
"Take your time." Mrs. Hartley winked at me, entirely unsubtle about it, before heading back toward the cider tent with a spring in her step that hadn't been there the last time I'd seen her ordering ginger cookies alone.
I turned to Dad the second she was out of earshot. "Since when do you and Mrs. Hartley have plans?"
He went slightly pink, which was frankly delightful to witness on a grown man who'd spent years trapped in a magical tree. "She's been very welcoming. Showed me how to use the self-checkout at the grocery store without setting off an alarm. We've had coffee a few times."
"Coffee," Orias repeated, deadpan, appearing at my shoulder with far too much interest in this development. "Coffee-coffee, or coffee like a date."
"I don't see how that's relevant."
"It's extremely relevant. Also, fun fact, she's Aria's aunt." I said. "A seer."
Dad blinked. "The seer? The one who—"
"Talked to Amber's mum's spirit, yes, that Aria." Orias grinned wider. "Small town. Everyone's someone's aunt."
"That's—" Dad cleared his throat, looking genuinely flustered for the first time since we'd gotten him home. "That's good to know."
"Go," I said, gently shoving his shoulder. "We've got the stall. Go be flustered about a nice woman who apparently likes you."
He hesitated another second, then untied his apron and handed it over. "You're sure?"
"Dad. Go."
He went, and I watched him cross the square toward the cider tent with a slight spring in his own step now, and felt something warm settle deep in my chest watching it happen.
He deserved this. Deserved every ordinary, wonderful, slightly awkward thing this town could give back to him after everything it had already taken.
"Do you think we'll sell out of those muffins?
" Orias asked, leaning on the counter beside me, arm brushing mine in that easy, familiar way he'd perfected over the last few weeks.
"Because I'm debating taking half of them home before your dad wanders back with Mrs. Hartley and eats through our profit margin out of sheer nervous energy. "
"We better sell out," I said, watching a group of kids eagerly eyeing the tray. "We're Halloway's Hearth. We always sell out."
"I could make you muffins at home," Rowan offered, entirely unhelpfully. "I'd need supervision. And ingredients. And possibly a fire extinguisher on standby, but the intention would be there."
"You are both banned from unsupervised baking, permanently, effective immediately."
"Harsh," Orias said, though he was grinning too widely to sound remotely wounded by it. "Your baking is magical. We just want to be part of the magic."
"You want to eat the magic."
"That too." He grinned.
We worked through the rest of the day together, all three of us, serving pies and muffins and bread to festival-goers, chatting with locals who stopped to admire how well the town had bounced back.
Dad returned an hour later looking thoroughly pleased with himself and smelling faintly of spiced cider, refusing to elaborate on any specifics no matter how hard Orias pressed.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in pink and purple, we finally started packing up.
The festival would run late into the night, music and dancing carrying on well past when we'd have any energy left for it, but our part was done.
Cian stopped by to grab a muffin on his way to study, stack of textbooks tucked under one arm, grinning at all of us before heading off toward the library.
"Ready?" Rowan asked, coming up behind me as I packed the last tray into the basket.
"Ready," I said, and Orias slung an arm over my shoulders as we started the walk home, the sounds of the festival fading gently behind us.
We'd all moved into the Thorne mansion together after everything settled — the three of us, redecorating room by room over the last few weeks, turning something that used to feel cold and abandoned into somewhere that actually felt lived in.
It was still technically a mansion. It just didn't feel like one most days anymore. It felt like ours.
Inside, the smell of fresh bread still lingered faintly from the morning. I kicked off my shoes and padded upstairs between both of them, all three of us quiet and pleasantly worn out after a full day of festival chaos.
Once we'd all changed, I climbed into bed between them, one of Rowan's old shirts hanging loose off my shoulders, Orias's arm already draped warm across my waist the second I settled.
"Today was good," I said softly, resting against Rowan's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my ear. "Really good. Watching everyone be happy like that."
"Your dad seems happy," Orias said, mouth curved against my shoulder.
"He does." I smiled at the thought of him. "I never thought I'd get any of this. After everything. It still feels a little unreal, some days."
Rowan tilted my chin up, eyes soft in the low light. "It's real, love. You made it real."
"We made it real," I corrected. "All of us. Together."
He kissed me then, slow, and I felt Orias's mouth find the back of my neck at the same moment, unhurried, both of them taking their time with me the way they'd learned to over the last few weeks.
When Rowan finally pulled back, he pressed his forehead to mine, voice thick with everything he still hadn't quite gotten used to saying out loud.
"I'm so glad you're okay," he murmured. "Don't think I'll ever stop being glad about that."
"Team effort," I whispered, already leaning back into Orias's mouth on my skin. "I just did a little extra."
"Let's avoid the whole nearly-sacrificing-yourself thing next time, though," Rowan said, only half joking. "For my heart's sake, if nothing else."
"Deal," I laughed, and let both of them pull me down into the sheets properly.
It was slow that night. No adrenaline chasing it, no fear left over from anything we still needed to survive.
Just Rowan's hands mapping familiar territory, Orias's mouth finding every spot that made my breath catch, both of them murmuring low, filthy, tender things against my skin in equal measure until the whole day burned itself down into something that felt like nothing but pleasure and relief and the two of them exactly where they belonged.
"You take me so well, love," Rowan breathed, buried deep, forehead pressed to mine while Orias's hand found mine on the sheets, lacing our fingers together. "Like this pussy was made just for me to fill."
"It was," I moaned, hips rising to meet him thrust for thrust while Orias's mouth worked lower along my throat. "Just for you. Both of you. Forever."
Forever was a long time. It wasn't going to be hard to have. Not with two men determined to make every single day of it worth staying for.
I fell apart between them slow and complete, Rowan following soon after with a low groan against my throat, and Orias not far behind, all three of us collapsing into a tangled, breathless heap against the sheets.
Sometimes we went again. Sometimes we just lay there, wrapped up together, grateful in the quiet.
The warmth of both of them pressed against me settled deeper than anything I'd ever felt before. The Hollow was balanced. The darkness was gone. Our family — expanded, strange, entirely ours — was together, whole, and safe.
There was nothing left to fear.
"Goodnight, Amber," Rowan whispered, voice already thick with sleep.
"Night, little witch," Orias murmured against my shoulder.
I smiled, closing my eyes, sinking into the warmth of the bed and both of them around me, heart completely full.
"Goodnight," I whispered back, and let myself drift, content and safe, into a future as bright and quiet as the stars above our small, strange, beautiful hometown.
Entirely free of whispers.