Chapter 16
Pippa
It was finally the night of the Solstice. A week ago, when I'd been named the Keeper, I hadn't held any great hope for love during the holidays. But wow, things had changed.
Tess nudged me, her elbow finding my ribs. "You look happy. Like... real happy. When did that happen?"
I opened my mouth—then snapped it shut again. Because what was I supposed to say? Oh, you know, just sometime between kissing a brooding mage senseless and having a fox shifter confess he's been waiting years to claim me. Typical Tuesday.
Snow drifted through the courtyard. The massive evergreen stood over us, the Hearth pulsing warm against the winter air. Everyone was here—townsfolk, Dragon Riders, Library denizens—all waiting.
All watching.
My chest felt... full. Overflowing. Like I'd been cramming myself into a box that was way too small, and someone had finally ripped the sides clean off.
I didn't answer Tess. Just bumped my shoulder against hers and let my crooked smile say everything I couldn't.
Before she could press—because she would press, that was what best friends did—Moriyana's voice rang out across the courtyard. Rich and commanding, carrying easily over the crowd with centuries of authority behind it.
"It is time," the Grand Luminary announced, her magnificent red-scaled form catching the magical lights and throwing them back in prismatic flashes. Every conversation died. Every face turned toward the Hearth. "Keeper of Solstice. Come forward."
My pulse jumped. The leather-bound pages of collected wishes felt heavier in my arms—hundreds of whispered confessions, scrawled blessings, desperate pleas for the coming year. All of it pressing against my chest.
No turning back now.
I let my magic stir beneath my skin as I straightened my shoulders. Pixie fire danced along my fingertips, casting warm golden light across the bound pages. The crowd parted as I stepped forward, their faces expectant and reverent. This was it. The moment I'd been preparing for all week.
Don't mess this up, I told myself, then immediately wanted to kick my own brain for the thought. You've got this. You've always had this.
The Hearth loomed before me, its flames dancing higher as I approached. Dragonfire burned at its heart—ancient, powerful, and somehow... welcoming. Like it recognized me. Like it had been waiting.
The magic thrummed through every piece of parchment in my arms. So many hopes. So many dreams. All trusting me to carry them forward, to bind them into something lasting and release them into the night sky.
Silence fell as I reached the stone circle. Time to speak the ritual words, to weave the binding spell that would transform scattered wishes into a single, luminous tome.
I opened my mouth to begin—
And felt familiar warmth brush my right arm.
Jarek stepped into place beside me, his amber eyes catching the firelight as his fingers found the bare skin of my wrist. Not possessive. Not demanding. Just... there. Present. Solid.
My breath caught. Measured footsteps approached from my left. Callen moved into position on my other side, his steel-gray gaze meeting mine with a single, decisive nod. Like this had been planned. Like this was exactly where he belonged.
The crowd murmured—this wasn't traditional. The Solstice Keeper was meant to stand alone, to bear the responsibility in solitude.
But as I stood there between them, feeling Callen's steady presence and the electric energy radiating from Jarek, something fundamental shifted. I wasn't alone anymore. I didn't want to be alone anymore.
My hands trembled as I slid my fingers into theirs—Jarek's palm rough with calluses from dragon reins, Callen's long fingers steady and sure. Fire and earth. Wild and grounded. Both of them anchoring me to something I'd never dared hope for.
The magic in the wish pages pulsed, responding not just to my voice but to the connection flowing between the three of us.
"By hearth and flame," I began, my voice carrying clearly across the silent courtyard, "by hope and dream, by the longest night and the promise of dawn..." The ritual words flowed from my lips, but they felt different now. Stronger. Like they were being spoken by all three of us at once.
The pages in my free arm began to glow. Wishes rose from the parchment like golden butterflies, swirling around us in spirals of light. They danced higher, faster, weaving together in patterns that made my heart race.
This is what magic is supposed to feel like, I realized with a jolt of pure wonder. Not strained or desperate or lonely. But shared. Amplified. Like three voices singing in perfect harmony.
The wishes bound themselves together mid-air, pages melting and reforming into a single, luminous book. Golden script blazed along its spine. My magic didn't feel stretched thin anymore—it felt buoyed by theirs, lifted and strengthened by the connection flowing between us.
Together, we walked the bound book to the hearthstone. I knelt before the flames, Callen and Jarek flanking me like guardians, and placed the tome into the fire.
The Hearth roared.
Fire climbed toward the star-scattered sky. Enchanted wind swept through the courtyard, setting garlands dancing and sending spell-lit snow swirling in impossible patterns.
Smoke rose in graceful spirals, carrying our bound wishes toward the constellation-bright heavens. The crowd watched in reverent silence as the silvery tendrils disappeared into the night, bearing their hopes to whatever forces governed magic and fate.
Then I felt it—a profound sense of rightness. Of completion. Not just from the ritual itself, but from the way we'd performed it together, the three of us united.
The Hearth pulsed with warmth that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the love and longing we'd fed into its flames. Magic rippled through the courtyard in gentle waves, touching everyone present with the promise that their wishes had been heard.
The crowd erupted. Flower petals and spell-sparks flew into the air. Music swelled from somewhere in the throng, voices joining in traditional Solstice songs. Loved ones hugged and kissed around us, the entire courtyard alive with joy and magic and hope.
I stayed kneeling between the two men who had somehow become essential to my existence.
I turned to look at Callen first, meeting those steel-gray eyes that had seen through every wall I'd ever built. He didn't ask for an answer, didn't demand promises or declarations. He just... stayed. Solid and patient and there.
Then I looked at Jarek, at amber eyes that had been watching me with patient hunger for longer than I'd realized.
His fox-sharp grin was softer now, full of something that looked suspiciously like contentment.
He didn't push or tease or challenge. He just waited, like he had all the time in the world.
My magic hummed steady and strong inside my chest for the first time all festival. Not chaotic or overwhelming or desperate to escape. Just... settled. Like it had finally found its proper place.
The Hearth burned behind us, its flames reaching toward the winter stars. The Solstice had been kept, the wishes released, the ritual completed.
But this—this—felt like the real beginning.