Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
The next day at noon, Asher and I are sitting on a wooden bench, stationed in the center of town, which put us smack in the middle of the Emberwood town square.
Everything sprawling out before us seems calm and ordinary—the freshly mowed grass, the old oaks lining the walkways, the gazebo standing white and proud in the distance—but nothing could be further from the truth.
We’re doing this again.
A couple walks their dog past us. A jogger with earbuds bobs along the path.
Are they in danger? Should I clear the area?
My leg bounces.
Asher nudges me with his elbow. "You're vibrating."
"I'm fine."
"You're literally shaking the bench."
I force my leg still. "Better?"
"Marginally." He leans back, arms stretched across the bench's backrest. "You know, when I imagined saving the world, I thought there'd be more... I don't know… theme music."
I snort. “Seriously? You think we should have a soundtrack?”
“You don’t?”
“Honestly, that would be kind of cool. But we're not saving the world. Just the citizens of Emberwood."
He grins. "Still counts. I'm putting it on my résumé."
“You should. And also start working on our soundtrack. What would we even put on there?”
Before he can answer, my phone buzzes. Then his does, too. We both look down.
Mica: In position with two coven members. This old mill smells like wet wood and regret.
I scroll further up the thread. “Sebastian checked in from the cemetery ten minutes ago. He’s ready.”
“And Rowan is at the standing stones with two witches from Thornhill. Her parents sent them to ensure she’s good.”
Another text comes in…
Wylder: I dropped Clara and Weston at the stream convergence point north of town. Brice and I are in position as well.
Izzy: Ashcroft Manor backyard. Hiding in the bushes. Orion says hi, and also that if Laurel catches us, we're blaming you.
Orion: She's joking.
I exhale a laugh and type back.
Poppy: Noted. Don't get caught.
Asher stretches his arms overhead. “It’s sad to think Laurel would be so petty that she’d interfere or even threaten witches from her coven because they’re trying to do the right thing.”
“Sad, yes, but Laurel isn’t interested in doing the right thing. She only cares that I broke the glass and now everyone hears the alarm bells.”
We sit there quietly for a moment before Asher squeezes my hand. “Are you good?"
I slip my phone into my jacket pocket with my other hand. "Yeah."
"You sure? Because I know how freaked you get when Tharuzel is in the picture. How is your mental jewelry box?”
“Locked tight and quiet. My thoughts and my will are my own.”
“Good to hear. If that changes—"
“Yeah, I know." I stand, brushing imaginary dust off my jeans. "I’m solid, Ash. Let’s change the subject. You’re making me nervous."
He stands too, and hugs me from behind, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Sorry. I just worry.”
I pat his arms where they come around me. “I know. But for this moment, I feel strong and I want to get this done.”
“That’s good because I kinda want to call it off and for us to go hide in our onesies and watch S’Nark crackle in the fireplace.”
I snort. “That’s weird, right?”
“Really weird. But hey, I guess we’re here, everyone's in place, and it would be super awkward if I had to text them all and be like, 'Sorry, folks, rain check on the exorcism. Please return to your regularly scheduled magical anchoring at a later date.’"
I lean my head back against his chest and close my eyes. “You're ridiculous."
"And yet, you love me."
“No accounting for taste.”
He gives me a tight squeeze and then kisses my head. “Good luck, pop star.”
I miss the warmth of his hug the moment he urges me forward, but try not to think about it. My position for this ritual is the center point Sebastian marked on the map with an X. It's just grass. No plaque, no monument. Just earth and the energy of ley lines converging beneath the surface.
I sit cross-legged. Asher settles opposite me, close enough that his presence steadies me.
"If anyone asks, we’re meditating," he murmurs.
"Got it."
I close my eyes and breathe.
The world doesn't disappear—I still hear the breeze rustling leaves, and the distant hum of car engines—but I sink beneath it. Down into the place where magic hums.
I reach for the first thread.
Rowan's shadow magic flares to life at the standing stones. Dark and cool, wrapping around the anchor point like smoke given form. I feel her—steady, focused, a little defiant even now. I feel the power of her guardians, too.
Thornhill has sent us powerful help.
Sebastian's spirit magic joins next, rising from the cemetery. It carries the weight of old souls, history pressed into bone and stone. Clinical. Precise.
Then Wylder. His magic unfurls like roots breaking through soil—earthy, warm, alive. It smells like rain and growing things.
Clara's water magic flows in, gentle but relentless. A current that shifts and bends but never stops.
Izzy's animal magic pulses—soft and fierce all at once, protective in a way that makes my chest tighten.
Orion is right there with her, adding to their combined thread of power.
Mica's metal magic snaps into place last, sharp-edged and unyielding. She anchors it like a bolt driven through stone.
They're all here—all connected.
I pull their magic—and the magic of the others who have joined us—toward me, weaving it together to create a web that spans across Emberwood.
The mistake we made last time was to cast from one point and push outward. This ritual has us blanketing the town with a grid of magical intention.
The energy builds—magical streams reaching over the vastness of Emberwood, connected and bolstered by the natural power of the ley line convergences.
And I'm at the center, anchoring it all together.
My spirit magic is stronger than theirs. Maybe that’s because it was bound and locked away for so many years, or maybe it’s because I’m an Emberwood Elite.
I doubt I’ll ever know.
But maybe, if all happens the way it is meant, me being here right now, having lived through what I did, is all part of the Goddess Mother’s plan.
Lend me strength, Goddess Mother. Help me free the innocent from the hold of a wicked beast.
As always, the response to my prayer comes immediately. And with her blessing comes a powerful calm.
I push my intention outward.
The strands of my web expand, becoming a net, rippling across Emberwood like a shockwave made of light and intention. I feel it stretch—over rooftops, through alleyways, down streets and into homes.
I’m connected to the others as they stand at their posts.
I sense the sigils as our web of magic washes over them.
They're everywhere. Dozens of them. Targeted marks clinging to souls like burrs, feeding off the negative energy of people. Draining them to bolster him.
Every sigil connects a person to the same place.
Tharuzel.
His presence presses against the edges of my awareness. Hungry. Waiting.
Not today, dickwad.
I block him from my mind and grip the threads of our net tighter. It’s holding.
Here goes everything.
With my intention locked, I anchor the built-up power and send out a blasting pulse across the web of our connections. The explosive energy lights up our grid as if I’ve just electrocuted an expansive spiderweb—all the anchor, radial, and spiral lines vibrating with power.
And just as Sebastian predicted, the blast erupts from me, rushes outward, and identifies Tharuzel’s tethers as it washes over them.
Those connections take hold and, one by one, the sigils crack, flicker, and then bleed into nothing. It takes only a few seconds for the blast pulse to light up the entire grid.
And then it’s done.
I wait, holding my breath, ready for the retaliation. But nothing comes. No explosion. No screaming demons attacking. No backlash of fire or shadow.
The sigils are destroyed, Tharuzel’s dark intention drains out of his targets, and it’s over.
I open my eyes.
Asher's watching me, eyebrows raised. "Why do you look confused?"
"I think it worked."
"Okay… isn't that good?"
"Yeah, but nothing exploded."
He snorts. "P, I'm pretty sure that's a great thing."
I push to my feet, legs shaky but holding. My gaze sweeps the park.
There—near the gazebo. A man I recognize from the coffee shop. Two days ago, he had a faint sigil on his forehead and a ghost hovering behind him, draining him dry.
Now?
His forehead's clear. No mark. No drain on his emotions.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Then again. And again. I pull it out and find the Brigade WhatsApp chatroom blowing up with texts.
Rowan: Holy shit. Did that just work?
Sebastian: The energy dispersed cleanly. No backlash.
Wylder: I felt it. The sigils are gone.
Clara: Poppy? Did it work?
I type quickly.
Poppy: I think so. We just saw someone who had a sigil yesterday. It's gone.
Mica: omg we actually did it
Izzy: WE DID IT???
Orion: Nicely done, Brigade.
Asher: I TOLD YOU WE'D SAVE THE TOWN!
I laugh—sharp and breathless and full of relief.
Asher loops an arm around my shoulders, grinning so wide it's almost ridiculous. "We did it."
"We did," I repeat, and the words settle into my chest like a victory drum.
My phone buzzes again.
Sebastian: Celebration at the diner. I'm buying.
Mica: You're damn right you are.
Wylder: I'm in.
Clara: Same!
Asher: You had me at victory pie!
Poppy: Meet you there.
Asher pumps his fist. "We destroyed Tharuzel’s hold and victory pie. Best day ever."
I wrap an arm around his back, and we walk toward his truck. For the first time in weeks, the weight on my shoulders feels lighter.
Emberwood is safe.
And the Life and Death Brigade just proved we're more than a ragtag group of misfits.
We're the real deal.
Because Asher and I were positioned in the park of the town square, we’re the first two to arrive at Biscuits. The diner smells like coffee and all the comfort foods of life. It's amazing. “We’re going to need the party room, boss. We’ve got a celebration crew coming.”