Chapter 78 - New Year's Eve

Chapter 78 - New Year's Eve
The light rain fell steadily, almost lazily, tracing paths across the windows of Hendrick’s house. The sound was soft, rhythmic — a gentle reminder that the year was drawing to a close.

Cassie finished arranging the folded blanket on the couch and stepped back to observe the result. The living room was completely transformed: cushions scattered across the rug, blankets folded in the corners, pillows, baskets with popcorn, and steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

“It looks like a human campout,” joked Amos, holding the projector in his hands. The faint glow of the device reflected on the wall as he adjusted it on the coffee table.

Cassie laughed. “That’s the goal.” She pulled a cushion onto the floor. “The idea is for it to be cozy, no formalities today.”

“Formalities were never the problem.” He looked at her with that subtle humor, the corners of his lips curling. “The hard part was finding a compatible outlet and downloading such heavy files.”

Cassie chuckled, the sound filling the room with lightness. “I told you the adapter would be useful!”

“You did,” Amos nodded, connecting the last wire. “And I doubted you.”

The projector lit up with a yellowish beam of light, illuminating the wall covered with a white sheet in front of the couch. The image began to form — a classic romantic comedy that Cassie had chosen. The first scene showed a snow-covered city, and she sighed, sitting down on the rug.

Hendrick appeared at the living room door at that moment, arms crossed and a discreet smile playing on his lips. “And here I thought the smell of popcorn was a hallucination.”

“You’re invited to join us,” Cassie replied, holding up the popcorn bowl. “New Year’s movie night.”

“Movie what?” asked Bart, emerging right behind him, still with an apron stained with grease and a glass of wine in his hand.

“Movie night,” Cassie looked at him playfully. “Movies. Stories in motion.”

Bart raised an eyebrow. “Ah, those human things we used to watch before Amos restricted the internet.”

“Exactly those,” Amos said, definitively, which drew laughs. “You spent too much, the twins wanted to play video games for hours.”

Uriel was the last to enter, wiping his hands on a kitchen cloth. “The piglet is almost ready. I gave it some time to brown.”

“Great!” Cassie clapped. “We’ll watch a movie in the meantime.”

Yohan and Mason settled on the couch, and Nick brought more wood for the fire. The crackling of the flames mingled with the sound of the rain, and since Cassie had arrived at the village, she felt that everyone seemed simply... at peace.

She looked around and realized how much had changed. There was laughter. There were conversations. There was life.

The movie began, and the room plunged into a cozy twilight. Amos sat beside her, exchanging a knowing look when a comic scene drew laughter from Bart and Yohan.

Cassie snuggled under the blanket, the hot chocolate between her hands. The heat rose in sweet, fragrant spirals, and the cold of the rain seemed distant. Hendrick, beside her, stretched his arm behind her back and pulled her closer.

The gesture was discreet, but Cassie felt her heart warm.

Two hours later, the movie ended, and everyone applauded. Bart, moved by the ending, discreetly wiped his eyes — which, of course, caused a wave of laughter.

“I just... choked on my popcorn,” he muttered, his face red.

“Sure you did,” scoffed Matt.

Cassie shook her head, laughing. “Let’s take a break to eat before the next one.”

They went to the porch, where the smell of roasted meat dominated the air. The golden piglet rested on the grill, its skin crackling under the touch of the embers. Uriel masterfully turned the spit, while Bart cut thin, succulent slices to place on the platters.

Nick appeared with two bottles of champagne and another of white wine, his smile wide. “I did my part.”

Cassie greeted him as if he were a hero. “The savior of the night!”

Hendrick took two glasses and poured wine for her and Amos. “You made all this happen,” he said softly. “Thank you.”

Cassie looked at him, the glow of the flames reflecting in her eyes. “I just wanted us to end the year... together.”

“And we did.” He touched his glass to hers in a silent toast.

The night fell slowly, and the rain became a constant murmur. The sound of laughter echoed inside the house — the shifters alternated between the living room and the backyard, between meat and popcorn, wine and hot chocolate.

Cassie noticed that Hendrick seemed more relaxed than ever. The usual weight on his shoulders had dissolved. He smiled, talked with Mason, even laughed at Taylor’s jokes.

When there were just a few minutes left until midnight, Tyler was the one who drew everyone’s attention. “It’s almost time.”

Cassie turned off the movie and looked at Hendrick. He approached and instinctively took her hand.

The shifters formed a circle in front of the window. Outside, the full moon rose between the heavy clouds, silvering the wet leaves of the trees.

Uriel was the first to speak, his voice deep and serene: “Moon Lady, guardian of our steps and our instincts, we thank you for keeping us alive.”

The others followed him, their voices overlapping in a low, solemn chorus.

“We thank you for the hope, for the days that have come and for those that will come.”

Cassie kept her eyes closed, feeling the vibration of those words within her chest. It was not a human prayer; it was older, deeper — born of the earth and the blood, of bonds that could not be explained.

When they opened their eyes, the clock showed 11:59.

Hendrick turned to Cassie. “Ready?”

She smiled, her heart beating fast. “Always.”

The seconds dragged on — and then Nick started the countdown, laughing.

“Ten... nine... eight...”

The whole room joined in the chorus.

“...three... two... one!”

Voices rose, and the sound of clinking glasses filled the air. Cassie laughed loudly, feeling tears sting her eyes — not from sadness, but from emotion. Hendrick pulled her into a hug and spun her in the air, their laughter mixing with the crackle of the fireplace.

“Happy New Year, Cassie.”

“Happy New Year, Hendrick.”

The others hugged, exchanged greetings and jokes. Bart tried to start a song with an off-key whistle, and Yohan accompanied him by clapping.

Cassie leaned against Hendrick’s chest, watching the scene.

“They are happy,” she whispered.

“Because of you,” he replied, kissing the top of her head. “You brought this back to us.”

She looked at him, her eyes misty. “I just reminded them that joy is also survival.”

He smiled. “And you reminded all of us.”

With the lights turned off and the fire dying down, Cassie collected the empty mugs and the dishes scattered around the room. Amos helped her, silent.

“It was a good day,” he said, placing a pile of dishes on the sink.

“It was, indeed.” Cassie leaned against the counter, watching the rain that was still falling. “I think they needed this.”

“We all needed it.” Amos turned to her, his gaze calm. “We haven’t had anything like this, anything joyful, for three centuries.”

Cassie felt a lump in her throat, but also a smile emerge. “Then let’s toast to that.”

He nodded, picked up one of the glasses still full of wine and raised it. “To joy.”

She did the same. “To joy.” And smiled.

Later, when Hendrick turned off the last lights and approached her, Cassie was still looking at the moon through the window.

“It’s beautiful tonight,” she said.

“It is.” He embraced her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. “And I think it’s looking at us, too.”

Cassie smiled, leaning into his body. Outside, the moon reflected in the light rain, as if the entire sky were liquid silver.

“May the new year bring us peace,” she murmured.

Hendrick kissed her temple. “And strength to deserve it.”

The clock marked past one in the morning when the house fell asleep, with the sound of the rain rocking the first sleep of the new year — the first of many that, finally, seemed possible.