If all it took was me watching her to alert her to my presence, I couldn’t guess how much it could go the other way.
I pressed my hands together and grounded myself. Our worlds weren’t merely adjacent. They were entangled. And if I could see her…Then someday, if not already, she might see me too.
And that told me everything I needed to know about Celeste.
She had to go home.
Chapter Thirty-One
Nova’s shop always felt like a cozy, mystical step back in time.
The moment we stepped inside, the noise of Stonewick softened, as if the world beyond the door knew better than to intrude. Shelves curved inward instead of standing straight, bowing slightly beneath the weight of crystals, cards, charms, and objects that didn’t like being categorized. The air shimmered faintly, threaded with incense and old magic and something louder that reminded me of thunderstorms just before they broke.
I paused just inside the threshold. Nova’s shop had always existed half a step sideways from reality. It was a place for seeing, for truth laid bare without apology. Normally, that comforted me, even after my first experience had been less than ideal.
Tonight, the importance of what this shop could do for my daughter and her dad couldn’t be ignored.
But the echoes of the Oath Room still clung to me. The ownerless whispers brushed the back of my mind, and the imageof the Priestess in her castle refused to fade. It didn’t matter, though. What mattered was right in front of me.
This wasn’t the time to spiral.
Celeste stood near the central table, hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweater, eyes bright but serious. She looked older tonight somehow.
Keegan lingered close to her without crowding, his posture easy but attentive, the way it always was when he sensed something fragile unfolding. Twobble perched on a stool he absolutely wasn’t supposed to be on, swinging his feet and pretending he wasn’t nervous. Skonk stood near the back wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable, but his gaze never strayed far from the door or the windows.
Bella leaned against a display of moonstone spheres, her fox-shifter grace lending the room an undercurrent of motion even when she was still. Ardetia hovered near Nova’s worktable, fingers lightly tracing sigils etched into the wood, her expression thoughtful and solemn.
And Nova stood at the center of it all.
Her shop wrapped around her like it knew who its heart belonged to. The crystal cases glowed brighter at her approach, and tarot decks rustled softly as if eager to be chosen. Her raven-dark hair framed her face, and her green eyes looked calm and entirely present as she surveyed the room.
“Everyone’s here,” Nova said quietly.
The toad ribbited loudly from the table.
I winced. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Celeste shot him a look. “You’re not helping.”
He puffed up in protest.
Nova allowed herself the faintest hint of a smile before sobering again.
“Before we begin,” she said, “I need to be very clear about what’s happening tonight.”
The room stilled.
“This is not punishment,” Nova continued. “This is not correction. This is release. Celeste, you will undo what you cast, but you will not be revisiting the moment that created it. You will not relive the anger or the hurt. You’ll acknowledge it, and then you’ll let it go.”
Celeste nodded once. “Right.”
“And I’ll handle the memory weave,” Nova added. “That part doesn’t involve you.”
Celeste hesitated, then nodded again. “Okay.”
I stepped closer, unable to help myself. “I’m here for you,” I reminded her softly, but I think that reminder was more for myself than her.
“I know,” she said, meeting my eyes. “But I’m ready.”
