"I look nervous." Maren turned from the mirror. "Is it normal to get married the same day you're engaged?"
"For shifters? Sometimes. When the bond's that strong, waiting feels pointless." Freya moved into the room, carrying something wrapped in cloth. "Besides, you and Tristan have been dancing around this since the moment you met. Might as well make it official before either of you overthinks it."
"Fair point."
"Here." Freya unwrapped the cloth, revealing a circlet of woven silver and winter berries. "For your hair. Something borrowed from my first Christmas with Kieran."
Maren accepted it carefully, feeling the faint hum of magic worked into metal. "Thank you. For this. For everything. You didn't have to stand by me when the town wanted me gone."
"Yes, I did." Freya's expression turned fierce. "You belong here, whether some people like it or not."
Footsteps thundered up the stairs. Sage appeared, her dark curls bouncing, clutching something in both hands.
"Maren!" She held up a handful of dried flowers tied with ribbon. "For your dress. Mama said brides need flowers."
"They do." Maren crouched down, letting Sage tuck the bundle into her sash. "Thank you, sweetheart."
"You're going to marry the tiger man." Sage said it like stating fact. "And your shadows will be happy forever."
"That's the plan."
"Good. He makes you smile different. Like you're not scared anymore." Sage patted her cheek with the seriousness only children could manage. "I'm glad you're staying."
She pulled Sage into a careful hug, mindful of crushing the flowers. "Me too."
Moira appeared in the doorway, holding a leather-bound book. Her mahogany curls were swept up, her glasses perched on her nose. "Am I interrupting?"
"Never." Maren stood, releasing Sage who immediately ran to show Freya something she'd found.
"I brought you something." Moira offered the book. "It's a spellbook. Protective wards mostly, but some offensive magic if needed. Compiled by generations of witches who wanted to keep their families safe."
Maren opened it carefully, seeing handwritten notes in margins, corrections, additions. Years of knowledge preserved. "Moira, this is beautiful."
"You're family now. Through Tristan, through the town, through choice." Moira's soft brown eyes held warmth behind the scholarly assessment. "And family protects each other. So take this. Learn from it. Add to it if you discover something new."
"I will. Thank you."
"Also." Moira pulled out a smaller bundle. "Lucien wanted me to give you this. He's not great with words but he wanted you to know he approves."
Maren unwrapped silk to find a silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon. Shadow-work had been etched into the metal, creating patterns that caught light. "This is gorgeous."
"He made it himself. Took him three days." Moira smiled slightly. "Don't tell him I told you. He prefers maintaining his mysterious reputation."
"Your secret's safe."
Freya finished adjusting Maren's hair, placing the circlet carefully. "There. Now for the veil."
"I don't have—" Maren started.
Her shadows rose unbidden, spreading upward to frame her face. They wove together in delicate patterns, creating a veil of living darkness that shifted with her breathing. Silver light threaded through it, matching the gown, matching the mark on her neck.
"Well," Freya said. "That solves that problem."
Sage clapped her hands. "Pretty shadows!"
Maren looked in the mirror again. The shadow veil transformed her from nervous bride to something otherworldly. Powerful. The kind of witch who'd destroyed cursed relics and survived mob violence and chosen to stay despite everything.
"It's time," Moira said quietly. "Tristan's waiting."
