Definitely not the fear that has settled in my bones, knowing that our time with her is only beginning. Barrett’s warnings about how many enemies the coven died with isn’t promising either.
Looking at the lake, beginning to return to its former state, I let that pesky ball of hope grow another millimeter in my heart. After I releasedhalf of Nestor’s soul from its bond to the property and Calista took the other half she hid in the inn’s grounds, most of it went back to normal.
The plants are far from healed. They’ll need at least one season to heal, unless Clover gets a handle on her magic soon. That’s something else I need to spend time thinking about, but don’t have the guts to do yet. Not when I just found my friends. I can’t bear the thought of losing someone after what we went through.
It’s a start though.
The town hasn’t grown any. There are more new faces stopping through, but no one stays or leaves.
The residents of Briarhollow noticed a difference in the air. It’s lighter, fresher somehow. It’s like the town is slowly waking up, knowing that the inn is healing itself after Calista’s anger struck.
The Dreaming Willow Inn is still the heart of Briarhollow, so there’s only so much change that can happen until it’s fully healed. Rowyn is working nearly every day at trying to light the hearth.
The thought of hearts pathetically makes my mind drift to my Chosen.
Everything between the two of us has changed recently, and it feels comfortable. It feelsright. I’ve begun to question how much control fate truly has over our lives after meeting Calista. She was able to manipulate the lives ofmultiplegenerations of Blackthorn witches, and ended the Divination line in the Vexley family just from the strength of her own rage.
The fates will no longer control us.
Archer’s spirit is now tied to the coven, and the inn itself. My spirit courses through each of the witches and the property, too. We can also sense each other’s emotions on a much deeper level than ever before—even more so than our dream state, or what Archer’s magical abilities naturally allow.
Last week, he dropped a stack of books on his hand while he was working in the library and I felt the pain as if it were my own from the inn. Almost all of our dreams are intertwined, whether he’s looking for me or not. They aren’t only in our meadow anymore. He’s there, in all my dreams. I feel his emotions as strongly as my own, and same for him.
Whether it be from the Soul Tie ritual or the handful of other ways our spirits are entangled, we share bonds with each other’s familiars now. To an extent.
When Archer died, his connection to Whisper didn’t break because ofme. Part of his soul lives in me, just like mine does with him. Our familiars are part of our souls—an intricate part of our very essence. Because of that, their bond never fully broke.
I’m still not positive what would have happened to Agatha and Thimble that morning on our mother’s porch, but I have a much deeper understanding of how fragile these powerful bonds between us truly are.
The best part of the last few weeks has been my lack of hallucinations. I was worried that Calista would go back on her word and they’d start up again. There hasn’t been a single one—nor a nightmare.
I’m anxious it could start again in a few months, maybe years, but I try not to let my thoughts spiral down; focusing instead on thenow.
The crunch of boots on the grass grabs my attention, and I look over my shoulder and smile.
Archer is walking over with Whisper at his side and Hexate wrapped around his shoulders. With a basket full of food, he sits next to me and immediately pulls me into his lap.
“Hi, Little Wisp,” he murmurs against my neck and places soft kisses along the skin.
“I love this,” I muse and settle back into his chest, momentarily forgetting my task.
He grabs each of us a wine glass and begins to uncork the bottle. “I love you,” he says with a boyish grin.
Rolling my eyes, I bite back my grin and look at the setting sun.
“One of the old diners took down a For Sale sign today,” he says casually. I perk up immediately. “Gale is going to talk to the family but his guess is that they have plans to reopen. Apparently, a few of the family-run businesses are feeling hopeful lately.”
“Really?” I ask in disbelief. It’s a long road to go, and I’m not sure hope is anymore familiar to the town of Briarhollow as it used to be to me.
He nods and hands me my glass.
“Mm,” I hum and finally let my smile peek through. “That’s good. Really good.”
Archer hands me a small plate, and I chuckle at the poorly crafted sandwiches. He clearly didn’t let Rowyn or his sister help him pack this. The sentiment is sweet.
“Do you want to open the inn as a business?” he asks. “Or do you think you’ll keep it only for the coven?”
Taking a bite, I tilt my head to the side and think it over. “I think I’d like to open it one day. It’s a part of Petra’s legacy, you know? I don’t want her story to die with me.”
