Lenora slowly turns her head in his direction, the movement sluggish but deliberate, and there’s nothing but pure, murderous intent burning in her eyes. Coward. Traitor. Weak, pathetic fool.That’s what her expression is saying, though she doesn’t have the breath to speak the words aloud. None of it matters now, though, the entire town has witnessed his confession, heard the truth spilled from his own lips.
Ezra’s searching gaze finds me first, frantic and desperate for only the briefest second before overwhelming relief breaks across his face so sharply it nearly undoes what little composure I have left. Lucien stops dead in his tracks when he sees me standing upright and unharmed, sees the power still sparking faintly around my hands like captured lightning, and somethingthat might be awe flickers across his usually composed features as both men start making their way toward me through the crowd.
No one speaks for a long moment, everyone too stunned and overwhelmed to make sense of what they’re witnessing. The silence stretches taut as a wire, filled with shock and confusion and the electric aftermath of unleashed magic.
Then a sound like thunder erupts in the distance, a deep, resonant bang that seems to shake the very ground beneath our feet. The assembled crowd cries out in horror as the faint, comforting glow that usually emanates from the town beyond the trees suddenly stutters and dies, leaving nothing but darkness where Ruby Springs should be.
“The wards!” someone shouts.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
NOT MY CHOICE TO MAKE
The words hit the crowd like a physical blow, and chaos takes hold immediately, rippling outward in waves of panic and disbelief.
People start running back through the trees toward town, pushing and shoving in their desperation to reach their homes and families, to assess whatever damage has been done to the magical infrastructure that keeps them all safe. Voices rise in the darkness, calling out names, shouting questions that no one can answer. The orderly gathering dissolves into scattered motion, bodies disappearing between the trees as the forest swallows them whole.
I watch them go, rooted to the spot as the weight of responsibility bears down on my shoulders like something solid and unyielding. Whatever is happening to the wards, whatever is unraveling inside Ruby Springs right now, it is tied to what just happened here. The release of my power did not happen in isolation. It moved through everything, through the ground beneath me, through the air, through the same threads I only just learned how to touch. The connection is undeniable, written into every fiber of my being with a certainty I cannot ignore.
I am standing at the center of it, exactly where I was meant to be.
I push everything else down, the betrayal, the anger, the sharp, lingering ache of what my aunt tried to take from me again and drop to my knees on the forest floor. The earth is cool beneath my palms, damp with evening dew and scattered with pine needles that press into my skin. Reaching out, I place my hands flat against the ground and close my eyes, shutting out the last traces of movement around me, the distant sounds of people fleeing through the woods.
The newly awakened magic answers immediately, opening to me fully this time without resistance, without hesitation, flooding through me in a way that feels as easy as breathing. It rushes up through my arms, warm and alive, filling spaces inside me I never knew were empty.
Every thread of magic reaches out to me at once, giving me complete and undeniable awareness. The doors open wide as if it was waiting for me to gather it to me, as if this connection has always been here, dormant and patient.
I feel the manor first, sure and familiar, rooted deep and unwavering like an old friend welcoming me home. I feel the threads beneath the ground stretching outward in every direction, alive and humming with quiet power, a network so vast and intricate it takes my breath away. I feel the Spring, vibrant and constant, its pulse moving through the town like a heartbeat, the lifeblood of everything Ruby Springs has ever been. I feel the people, every presence, every spark of magic woven into something larger than any one of us, each life a bright point in the constellation of this place.
Beneath it all, stretching far and wide, are the wards.
They’re there, fractured, flickering and stuttering like a dying lightbulb, but not failing in the way I feared. The protective boundaries are stretched beyond their limits and left without thestrength needed to hold them together, thinning in places where the fabric has worn too long without proper tending.
Understanding dawns with quiet certainty, washing over me like a mantle I have always been meant to wear, and my magic reacts instinctively. Generations of Thorne Witches have held this line, and my duty is written in my DNA, carved into my bones, woven through my blood.
This is what I was meant to do.
I don’t force the magic into it. I don’t have to. I let my intention guide it as it strengthens and reshapes each line, pouring myself into the work with a focus that narrows the world down to just this, just the threads and the power and the steady rhythm of my own breathing. The wards respond like they recognize me, like they have been waiting for exactly this touch, and together we make them whole.
The power surges outward from me in a controlled, deliberate wave as golden threads rise from the ground and stretch across the sky, weaving themselves together in a vast, unbroken arc over Ruby Springs. They shimmer in the darkness, bright enough to cast shadows, beautiful in a way that makes my throat tight as I fight back tears.
The dome forms in a single, seamless motion, immense and pulsing, sealing into place with a quiet finality that sinks deep in my bones. The golden light lingers for a brief moment before fading from sight, turning transparent while remaining firmly in place, fortified and enduring in a way I know will last far beyond this night. The sensation of completion reverberates through me, a perfect note struck and held.
The moment it completes, the strength drains out of me all at once.
My arms give first, trembling and then simply giving up, then my balance follows, and I pitch forward before I can stop myself, the ground rushing up to meet me.
Ezra drops to his knees and catches me before I hit the ground, his reflexes faster than should be possible. His arms wrap around me and pull me onto his lap, cradling me against his chest like something precious and breakable.
“I’ve got you,” he says, hugging me close, his voice rough with something that might be relief or pride or both.
“I did it,” I manage, the words barely more than a breath, my voice threadbare and worn.
“You did, Marvel,” he replies, just as quietly, his hand coming up to smooth over my braids with unexpected gentleness. “You did it beautifully.”
I catch a glimpse of his smile, soft and genuine, before darkness claims me and pulls me under.
