Epilogue
Winter has never been Veda’s favorite time of year, but now that it’s here, she realizes its purpose isn’t only frigid dormancy. It’s a season for growth and evolution. Veda has picked through the rubble of her old life and made a new one that’s all her own.
Under the cold winter sun, in her freshly constructed greenhouse, she stands in a new safe space as Hiram wraps his arms around her.
There aren’t any plants yet, and the fruit trees won’t arrive until next month, but soon enough this place will be teeming with life.
Veda winces through each movement thanks to soreness—from an exhaustive afternoon not of pleasure, but of hard work.
Thickening by the hour, a blanket of white stretches beyond the windows.
In the warmth of the greenhouse, Hiram has a picnic set up.
It’s a Vietnamese spread, and more than enough for them.
They eat until they’re stuffed while Hiram listens to Veda’s plans for the space with a small smile on his face.
The food is incredible, but watching the snowfall on the other side of the glass is better.
“I have something for you,” Hiram says after a while. He reaches into the basket, pulling out a slender box.
Veda’s brow rises as she accepts the gift. “Christmas isn’t for another two weeks.”
“It’s something I’ve been working on since July. Took longer than I planned, but . . . it’s yours.”
She doesn’t understand until she opens the box and sees it.
She’s utterly shocked. Mouth parted, her hands tremble as she lifts it from its velvet cradle.
The chain has been replaced, and though the twisted stones still bear the same cracks, there’s something different about it.
It hums in her palm when she touches it.
Beneath the sapphire, a soft white light glows, reminding her of a moonlit night.
There is no doubt in her mind what it is. And whom it belongs to.
“My amulet . . .” Her voice breaks as she looks at him, tears in her eyes. Hiram helps her clasp it around her neck, the feeling both new and familiar. Changed, but undeniably hers.
“Where did you—”
“I brought it back myself.”
“With your magic? That must have taken months.”
“Yeah, a few drops of magic every day paid for with temporary but blinding headaches.”
“You couldn’t use your amulet.”
“No.” Hiram touches the gemstone. “You’re worth it.” He cups her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then her lips.
Reborn. For her. Because of her. Love was his driving point. His purpose.
“You’re making Christmas gifts hard for me to top.”
Hiram laughs, but his smile slowly sobers. “I’m happy you’re here.”
Veda’s heart melts. “Me too.”
The moment is broken by the buzz of Hiram’s phone.
It’s Antaris, calling from Gabriel’s place, where he’s staying with August. At first, he doesn’t say much, but August’s enthusiastic chatter hypes him up enough to get him talking about learning to ice-skate.
When the call ends, Hiram sets the phone down, a thoughtful look on his face.
“I didn’t have to tell him that I’m coming back.”
Veda leans in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Because he knows.”
The celebration of Hiram’s law firm opening takes place a few days later, surrounded by everyone who helped bring it to life.
Peter, who has been newly elected to the Oracle Council, is there with Khadijah, Clinton, and the rest of the new appointees, all of whom are now clients.
Everly and Marlene are here, too. Francisco comes late, followed by Gabriel and August. John will be in town for the grand opening the week after New Year’s.
A surprising number of Seers turn up to show their support.
When Hiram’s parents arrive, late and unannounced, Veda watches Hiram quietly excuse himself from his conversation with Moab’s oldest son and Francisco.
He crosses the room to greet them. Simran hands him a gift bag while Antaris tentatively approaches Barrett with the cat he’s introduced to every adult in the room.
Much to Veda and Hiram’s surprise, his father scratches the growing cat behind his ears. His deep voice carries when he asks, “What’s his name?”
“Mint,” Antaris says bashfully, then flees to her side.
Veda hugs him close until he settles.
“Thanks, Mom.”
And he’s off to the next person. She can’t help but smile.
Peter sits next to her. “Five minutes.”
“What?”
“It’ll be five minutes before Simran approaches you.”
Veda pouts. “I rue the day I challenged her to change.”
Peter laughs. “No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t.”
They sit in companionable silence, watching the crowd until Peter speaks again. “I know you have your own greenhouse, but you’re always welcome at Weston’s. My storage is still yours.”
She bumps him with her shoulder. “I know, and trust me, I’ll take you up on that. How’s the new person working out?” Veda left Weston in September to start at Khadijah’s clinic, where she’s been knocking the dust off her skills in preparation for restarting her internship in March.
“Well enough, I think. She’s got big shoes to fill . . . Right on time. Incoming.”
With that, he has the nerve to leave her alone to face Simran. For a fleeting moment, Veda considers locking herself inside Hiram’s office to avoid the encounter, but for the past few months, things have been somewhat amiable.
“A pleasure to see you as always, Miss Thorne,” Simran says with impeccable poise.
“Likewise, for the most part,” Veda replies with the barest hint of a smile. “You can call me Veda.”
Simran raises a brow. “Duly noted, Miss Thorne. I will see you three for our quarterly dinner tomorrow.”
It’s the first of its kind, and Hiram’s idea. A trial run of reconciliation, so to speak.
“You will,” Veda confirms.
“Thank you for helping us get to this point with him.”
“I did nothing. It was all Hiram. He’ll try as long as you do.”
“I have been.”
Veda knows. Simran’s been donating to the Seer clinic.
The donations are returned each time, just as Khadijah continues to decline Simran’s invitations for tea.
But in both respects, Simran remains persistent, continuing to unlearn her bias.
Perhaps one day things will change, but she isn’t waiting.
She’s doing what Veda once told Hiram: showing them who she is .
. . or rather, who she wants to become. Watching Simran walk around, greeting everyone the same, is still strange to see, but it’s another step toward progress.
After the party ends, they clean up, activate the talisman, and head home.
It’s near sunset when the urge to walk the forest strikes.
The decision to search for Nénuphar today is unconscious, but Hiram drifts in the direction he remembers as Veda and Antaris follow.
The sun slips lower while they search the forest. North to south. East to west. They don’t find it.
Dusk marks the end of their search, when they finally accept that the healing waters won’t appear this time. They gather around Antaris, each one hugging him gently as his shoulders dip.
“Nénuphar is only for those who need healing,” Veda explains. “I don’t think we need it anymore.”
Still a little fractured individually, together they are whole.
Veda takes both their hands, and they all walk home in the soft dark, moonlight gently rising behind them. Home greets them with open arms, but there’s something else.
A familiar, healing olive tree.
Veda turns to Hiram, who smiles. “Figured it was only fitting that it would be the first resident. Peter had a few of the staff deliver it while we were at the party.”
She stares at the tree for so long that she doesn’t realize Hiram and Antaris left and the former returns with hot chocolate—spiked for the two of them, sweet and simple for Antaris.
They’re armed with blankets when they step outside to savor the crisp night.
Antaris will join them again shortly. The sky is clear, the moon is new, and the stars, unhindered, blaze across the sky, shining in full splendor.
They settle on the dormant grass. Veda leans against Hiram as she catches him gazing skyward.
“I thought you didn’t care much for the stars.”
“I’ve been told I should look at them more often to gain perspective.”
Veda smiles in the face of his smirk. “Now, who told you to do such a thing?”
“Someone extremely aggravating, and bossy, and—”
“Such romantic adjectives.”
Hiram rolls his eyes but smiles.
“So . . .” Veda sips her drink. “How does it feel to have your own practice?”
“Surreal,” he answers quietly. “But no more surreal than watching you and my mother today. You know why she keeps cornering you, right?”
“No.”
“She’s checking your hand—not for the pillbox ring, but for a new one.”
Veda recoils. “Absolutely the hell not. We’ve been together for five minutes.”
“Six months.”
“You’re making that up.”
“It’s a generous estimate.” He laughs when she sulks, but soon sobers. “Is that a permanent no . . . or a no for now?”
“For now. I want peace with you and Antaris before we change anything. What do you think?”
“I agree,” he says. “I love you, and I’m in no rush. I’ve waited about a decade, what’s a few more years?”
“A decade?” Veda bursts out laughing. “The graduation party where you never even talked to me? You’re insane.”
“When you know, you know.” He leans closer. “We took the long way around.”
The back door swings open, and Antaris comes out carrying two lanterns. One his, one hers. Curious, Veda sheds her blanket and follows him to the water’s edge.
Hiram joins them. “What is it?”
Antaris offers Veda her lantern, then concentrates on his finger until there is a tiny flame hovering over it. Veda’s smile grows. She can’t contain how proud she is of him doing magic without fear.
“Well done.” Hiram kneels beside him.
Antaris grins, then tries to guide the flame toward the lantern.
“You want to light it?” Veda asks, confused.
“I’ve caught them all,” Antaris whispers.
Nightmares, sadness, grief, and everything that left him struggling at night.
“Me too.” Veda holds her own lantern, struck by a profound feeling of knowing it’s time to let it go. “Let’s do it.”
Antaris’s eyes brighten when he lights his lantern with Hiram’s help, and Veda lights hers with both their support.
Three. Two. One.
They let go.
Beneath the crescent moon, the breeze carries their lanterns skyward until they are mere specks on their way to join the stars.