Zara sniffed loudly. “Okay, I’m crying.”
Tabitha wiped her eyes. “This is the best ritual we’ve done in years.”
I clutched the heirloom box to my chest, magick warm against my ribs. My grandmother had seen us and she’d blessed us. She’d given me her tools to do the work that she wanted me to do with the business that had been mine all along.
And she’d given our mating her blessing.In that moment—I felt completely whole. And Savla, still holding me gently, whispered into my hair,
“She’s so proud of you.”
I allowed the tears to come, becauseI believed him.
Chapter 44
Hanna
The room was still buzzing with the afterglow of magick when I finally lowered my gaze to the wooden heirloom box resting in my hands. It felt warm, like it recognized me and it had been waiting.Savla stood behind me, his chest brushing my shoulder as he leaned in just enough to feel—not crowding, just anchoring.
“You can open it,” he murmured. “If you’re ready.”
Ready? Dear Goddess Mother, is anyone ever ready for moments like this?
My fingers trembled as I lifted the lid and a soft breath of air escaped the box—like the exhale of a memory.Inside were tools wrapped in aged linen embroidered with my grandmother’s initials.Myinitials. HG. Each piece was crafted from dark ashwood, polished to a glossy sheen. Some were carved with runes while others were simple and worn smooth by years of use.
Mortar and pestle, precision spoons, a moon-blade forcutting herbs, glass vials etched with Greyleaf runes, a stirring wand with a crystal tip, a measuring scale and at the bottom—a small, silver-bound journal.
My breath hitched. I reached for the stirring wand first, and the moment my fingers closed around it—light erupted.Not bright enough to blind—just bright enough to make every hair on my arms rise.
A soft luminescent glow, like distilled moonlight, wrapped around my hand, spiraling up my wrist and blooming across the tool. The wand hummed with warmth, resonating with my magick.
Threads of light unfurled into the air, weaving patterns that looked almost like vines and constellations at once. Gasps echoed around the circle.
“Hanna…” Zara whispered. “It recognizes you.”
Tabitha’s eyes softened. “Your grandmother’s tools have accepted you as her heir,” she said in a soft, gentle voice.
Savla stood utterly still beside me—but the bond wasn’t still at all. It brushed against me, tentative at first, then drawn in like a tide.
I lifted the moon-blade next, and it glowed too, a soft blue shimmer. Almost like it was singing.My heart thudded painfully.
“I can feel her. I can feel Grandmother.”
“You carry her magick,” Tabitha said gently. “Now her tools do as well.”
My eyes stung, vision blurring. Savla stepped forward, moving slow enough that I felt every inch of space he crossed. He took my trembling hands—carefully and reverently—holding them between his.
“Hanna,” he whispered.
The green magick flared brighter. And something in the bond between us—shifted.It was almost like a lock clicking intoplace.Savla inhaled sharply and his grip on my hands tightened.
“Do you feel that?”
I did. Dear Goddess Mother, I did.
“It’s warm,” I murmured, breath hitching. “Like… like something is waking.”
His forehead lowered to mine instinctively, and my grandmother’s tools—now mine—hummed in response. Light spiraled from them again—this time curling around my hands andhishands, weaving through our fingers like golden thread.
Savla’s bond surged through the contact—steady, warm, grounding—and met mine in the center of my palms.The room faded. Zara, Tabitha, even the candles and the runes. Everything fell away except him. Exceptus.
