Chapter 71 Better Together

Chapter 71 Better Together
The air inside Roman’s estate carried a heavy charge, the kind that prickled the skin and made the lamps flicker though no wind stirred. Lorraine sat in the grand hall, her hands folded tightly in her lap as she watched the others file in one by one.
Roman had opened the estate for a full gathering—his coven, Shanta and Despoina, and Rhyan at her side. Never before had so many of them gathered in one place. The weight of what they were about to attempt pressed on all of them, but Lorraine felt a different kind of pressure, a hum beneath her skin, restless and insistent.
Roman noticed it first.
He stepped closer, eyes narrowing, scanning her aura the way he did when he read the air for danger. His expression flickered, sharp and questioning, though his touch was gentle when he tilted her chin up.
“You’ve changed,” he murmured.
Lorraine blinked. “Changed how?”
Roman hesitated, but before he could answer, Shanta gasped from across the hall. Her bracelets jingled as she hurried forward, Despoina close behind. Both women stared, not at Lorraine’s face, but at the shimmering ripple that seemed to cling to her like a second skin.
“Her aura,” Shanta whispered. “It’s…older. Deeper.”
Despoina’s dark eyes locked onto Lorraine’s, searching, recognizing. She pressed her hand over her heart. “You opened Jadis’s door,” she said softly. “I feel her strength in you.”
The words hit Lorraine like a rush of air, cold and hot at once. She stumbled back a step. “I…don’t remember. I mean, I went to the bayou. I saw something. But it—blacked out. I woke up with nothing but a feeling.”
“That is enough,” Despoina replied. “Power leaves a mark even when memory does not. Jadis has passed a part of her legacy to you. That is why your magic feels…different. Why even Roman feels it now.”
Roman’s hand hovered near hers, his thumb brushing her knuckles. His eyes, though steady, carried both pride and fear.
Roman turned back toward Lorraine. "You went back out there on your own after you saw what happened to Mara?"
"I had to do something, Roman," she pressed. "I couldn't let her life be taken for nothing. And I wasn't putting anyone else at risk."
"You are brave, caring. And mine," Roman whispered, kissing her forehead.
The others gathered in close, the sound of chairs scraping against the wooden floor as Roman’s coven assembled. Anari, precise as ever, carried chalk to the center of the room and began drawing a circle wide enough for them all. Felix lit candles, their flames bending oddly, as if the room itself leaned toward Lorraine.
“Tonight,” Roman began, his voice carrying over the restless murmurs, “we set aside individual practice. We stand as one.”
Shanta raised her bundle of sage, smoke curling into the air. “A circle to bind us, to focus us, to give strength where strength falters.”
Despoina lifted a silver bowl, etched with spirals that glowed faintly under the lamplight. “And a channel to direct our power when the time comes. To protect. To fight. To endure.”
The coven members added their own pieces. Colette, sharp-tongued as always, cracked a joke about “finally getting to show off” before producing a vial of powdered quartz. Neve contributed sprigs of rosemary and bay. Sam and Tracy, moving in perfect tandem, unfurled a cloth embroidered with runes. Trevor placed a dagger in the center, its blade dulled with age but humming with energy.
Lorraine watched them, awe curling in her chest. Each had something to give. Each had chosen to stand with them.
And then she realized she had something too—her bond with Rhyan, and the strange, heavy pulse of Jadis’s power in her blood.
She met Rhyan’s eyes, and her friend nodded, stepping closer. “Moon sisters,” Rhyan said quietly.
Lorraine swallowed and added, “Together.”
Once the circle was complete, they sat cross-legged around it. Roman’s voice guided them, measured and calm, though Lorraine could feel the tightness in him, the weight of leadership pressed hard against his shoulders.
“Dwade grows stronger,” Roman said. “The storms no longer hide his presence—they reveal it. He has made a pact, one that twists the natural order. Every strike of lightning, every whisper of wind, is no longer just weather. It is him. His will. His reach.”
A murmur of unease passed through the group.
“He will come again,” Roman continued. “Not only for our shipments, but for us. For Lorraine.” His eyes flicked to hers, softening. “For what she now carries.”
Lorraine’s throat tightened. She wanted to protest, to say she could handle it—but Despoina spoke first.
“He fears prophecy. He fears what the moon sisters could awaken. That is why he pushes harder. He will not wait for you to be ready.”
Shanta placed her hand on the floor, steady. “Then we cannot wait either.”
Roman nodded. “Agreed. But to face him, we need more than scattered strength. We need a unified force.”
He gestured around the circle. “This is that force.”
One by one, they pledged aloud what they would bring.
Anari: “Order and structure. I will anchor the circle when chaos strikes.”
Felix: “Light to cut the shadows, even when they move like men.”
Colette: “Sharp wit and sharper spells. And if nothing else, a well-timed insult.”
Neve: “Healing hands for wounds that will surely come.”
Sam and Tracy: “Dual channels, to double the flow of energy.”
Trevor: “Experience. I’ve seen what darkness can do, and I’ll see it undone.”
Roxy: “Strength. Both in body and spirit.”
Sal: “A steady shield. For whoever needs it.”
Julien: “Knowledge of runes, wards, and cloaks.”
Mara (her absence hung heavy, but her name was spoken with reverence): “Her memory, to remind us of what we risk.”
Dray: “Fire. Real fire. Let Dwade’s shadows choke on it.”
Shanta: “Rituals older than this city. Spells meant to bind and break.”
Despoina: “Ancestral magic, blood-deep, carried through centuries.”
Rhyan: “The bond of the moon, shared with my sister.”
Lorraine: “And I—” She hesitated, breath shaky. “I bring what Jadis gave me. Whatever that means.”
The air seemed to shiver when she said it, as though the house itself approved.
The circle was lit, the candles flickering higher. Lorraine felt energy weaving between them, threads of light and warmth. She closed her eyes and leaned into it, her skin buzzing, her breath deepening.
But beneath it was something else.
A voice, faint and steady, like Jadis whispering from far away. Not words exactly, but guidance. Trust.
Roman’s gaze flicked to her, his pupils dilated, his mouth tense. He could feel it too—the shift, the swell of something more ancient flowing into her.
“Careful,” he murmured, only loud enough for her.
“I’m fine,” Lorraine whispered back, though her heart was racing.
Despoina’s eyes gleamed. “No. She is more than fine. She is stepping into what she was always meant to be.”
Lorraine looked down at her hands. Faint silver lines traced over her skin, glowing softly before fading again. Not burns this time. Not scars. Marks of inheritance.
She felt Roman’s fingers brush against hers under the circle, grounding her. She clung to that touch, letting it tether her when the surge threatened to spill over.
When the ritual closed, the candles burned steady and strong, the air clear despite the heaviness of the night beyond the walls.
They sat in silence for a long moment, the weight of their shared vow pressing down like a mantle.
Roman was the first to break it. “We go forward as one. No half-measures. No hesitation. If Dwade rises, we rise higher.”
Shanta lifted her chin. “And if his storm spreads, we will be the shelter.”
Despoina’s voice was calm, but firm. “The prophecy has shifted. The moon sisters are no longer only waiting for their moment. They are making it.”
Lorraine swallowed hard, staring into the candle’s flame. For the first time since this began, she felt not just fear, but purpose.
They would not run. They would not wait.
They would face Dwade head-on.
And this time, she would not face him as just Lorraine.
She would face him carrying Jadis’s strength.