After a while, Livia dug through the pile for twospecial boxes, both wrapped in tissue and ribbon instead of the gold foil.
"These are family pieces," she said quietly. "Heirlooms. For you girls."
Fifi's box opened to a beautiful necklace. An oval pendant that flickered red, gold, and orange all at once, like fire poured into crystal. It was mesmerizing. Livia hooked it around Fifi's neck, then explained, "Dragonstone. From your great-great-grandmother. It's meant to keep you grounded when you're struggling. Wear it as often as you like, dear. Jewelry like this isn't meant to be tucked away in a box."
Fifi turned the pendant in her hands, eyes gone a little glassy. "It's beautiful. Thank you, Grandma."
Livia fussed with her napkin, dabbing her eye. "My pleasure, my darling."
Next, Mere's. Her gift was a delicate silver bracelet, etched with narrow bands of runes that shimmered despite the low light. Mere put it on, then instantly jerked back in surprise. "It's warm!"
Livia smiled. "It's a focusing band. The witches in our family have used them for generations. It's supposed to hum when your magic gets too strong. Think of it as a gentle reminder to breathe. The runes are old, from my own mother's side. You're thefirst in a long time to wear it. We've been producing a lot of dragons for the last few generations, and few witches."
Mere's answer was barely above a whisper, but it shook me. "Thank you, Grandma. I'll take good care of it."
Watching it happen, watching the way Livia included my girls as if sixteen years could be washed away with tea and family jewelry, nearly undid me. I just perched on the edge of the couch, tracing the rim of my teacup, not trusting myself to speak. It was an odd mixture of being touched and yet a little angry.
Chance stood, then knelt between the girls for his turn. "I went a little old-school for you both," he explained. "I made both of these."
He handed Fifi a box, smooth as river rock, made of golden wood, with little dragons worked into the lid.
She flipped it open and gasped. "My necklace fits in here!"
He grinned. "Figured you could use a safe place for treasures. No offense to your backpack, but dragons are particular about storage."
Fifi hugged it to her chest.
For Mere, he'd made a bowl out of very dark wood, maybe ebony. It was small, but the surface shimmeredwith engraved flowers, each petal a different texture. Mere ran her hands over the carvings, awe in her eyes.
"It's for seeing the future, right?"
"Maybe. Scrying is a favored method of asking questions that don't have good answers for witches. Thought you might like the design."
Mere nodded, too moved for words.
Then it was my turn. If the world had a record for "Most Awkward Gift Recipient," I would've snatched it in a heartbeat. But Chance just winked, stepped around the twins, and produced the most dazzling pin I'd ever seen. It was heavy, intricate, and unmistakably old. Rubies and diamonds curled into a flower, with a dragon's head at the center.
My brain glitched. "It's… wow. Chance, it's—" It was definitely extravagant. Beyond so.
"My grandmother used to wear it every winter. She'd say the dragon flower only bloomed for people who protected what they loved." He smiled, careful. "You fit the legend."
He didn't wait for permission, just pinned it to my sweater, close enough to my collarbone to brush my skin. His hands stayed a second too long, but I didn't mind. Not even a little.
The room was so quiet I could hear the snow tapping the window.
Livia's eyes were glassy again, and Xavier clapped Chance so hard on the shoulder it actually made him wince.
Across the hearth, Maeve jiggled her package for Mere.
"I thought you might want this now," she said, shy for once.
The book Mere pulled from the wrapping was battered, cloth-bound, and clearly old. "Is that a grimoire?" I asked. I'd been doing atonof research on the internet about witches and dragons. They were all mythical, but some truths peeked through the legends.
Maeve nodded. "It belonged to my mother, and before that, her mother. It's meant to pass on when the next witch in the neighborhood is ready. Just, uh, don't try the fruitcake spell on page eighty-eight. Mom said it was cursed."
The line cracked everyone up, but Mere just hugged the book to her chest and mouthed a silent thank you before launching herself at Maeve for a hug.
Then they both grinned, wrestling a giant package out of the gift pile and plopping it in Livia's lap. The unwrapping revealed a scrapbook-style album. The cover was crooked, homemade, and stitched with stickers and glittery letters. Every page was loaded with photos. Some from their baby years, some from soccergames, even a few with Huey in the center, tongue lolling.
