Chapter 3

I WAKE UP TO SUNLIGHT streaming through unfamiliar curtains, momentarily disoriented. Then the events of yesterday come rushing back—the magical town, Suzette’s revelations, and meeting Throk and Ronan. I sit up, rubbing my eyes. Is this all real or some elaborate dream?

A knock at the door startles me. “Candice? You awake?” asks Suzette.

“Yeah, come in,” I say, stifling a yawn.

She enters, already dressed in jeans and a cozy sweater. “Morning, sis. Sleep well?”

I nod. “Surprisingly, yes. Though I’m still not sure if I dreamed everything that happened yesterday.”

She laughs. “Trust me, it’s all real, and there’s plenty more to see. Ready for a proper tour of Evershift Haven?”

“Sounds great,” I say, climbing out of bed. “Just give me a few minutes to get ready.”

After a quick shower and change of clothes, I join Suzette downstairs. “Thought we’d start with breakfast at ‘The Enchanted Espresso.’ Their pastries are to die for.”

We step outside, and I’m immediately struck by the crisp autumn air and the vibrant colors of the changing leaves. The town seems even more magical in the morning light. Or maybe it’s transformed itself even more. I’m starting to believe it can do that.

As we walk, Suzette points out various shops and landmarks. “That’s the ‘Celestial Clock Tower,’” she says, indicating a tall structure with an ornate face. “At midnight, you can see glimpses of the past or future from the viewing platform.”

“Seriously?” I ask, eyes wide.

She nods. “I’ve only done it once. It’s pretty intense.”

We arrive at “The Enchanted Espresso,” a cozy cafe with twinkling lights strung across the ceiling. The scent of coffee and freshly baked goods fills the air.

“Morning, Bella.” Suzette says to the barista, a friendly-looking woman with leaf-red locks. “I like this month’s hair color.”

“Thanks, Suz—and this must be Candice,” she says with a warm smile. “What can I get you ladies?”

“I’ll have my usual,” says Suzette. “Candice, want to try the Metamorphosis Mocha? It’s our specialty.”

I hesitate. “What does it do?”

Bella grins. “Nothing too crazy. Just gives you rabbit ears for an hour or two.”

“Okay,” I say, throwing caution to the wind. “I’ll try it.”

As we wait for our drinks, I watch in amazement as cups float through the air, gently descending to waiting customers. Our drinks arrive, and I take a cautious sip of my mocha. It’s delicious, with hints of chocolate and cinnamon, and a flavor I can’t quite place.

“Oh, wow,” I say, feeling a tingling sensation spread through my body. I catch my reflection in a nearby mirror and gasp. My usual blonde hair has sprouted bunny ears sticking up out of my thick French braid.

Suzette laughs at my expression. “Looks good on you, sis.” She’s sporting her own pair of bunny ears.

We grab some pastries to go. “Don’t forget, we’ll have a new drink starting tomorrow, for Thanksgiving,” says Bella on our way out.

Food in hand, we head back out into the town square. While we walk, Suzette tells me more about Evershift Haven’s history and the various magical beings who call it home.

“Over there is ‘Mystical Motors,’” she says, pointing to a garage where tools seem to be moving on their own. “Throk owns it.”

We pass by a park, where the grass seems to be changing colors. “That’s Mystic Meadows. The grass responds to the mood of the people in the park.”

Continuing our tour, we approach a quaint boutique with a sign that reads “The Whimsical Wardrobe.” “This is Madame Threads’ place,” she says. “She’s an incredible seamstress. Her clothes often have magical properties.”

We enter the shop accompanied by the sound of a bell tinkling above the door. Racks of colorful clothing line the walls, and I swear I see a scarf slither across a shelf like a snake.

“Suzette, darling.” A tall, elegant woman with silver hair glides toward us. “And who is this lovely creature?”

“Madame Threads, this is my sister, Candice,” Suzette introduces us. “She’s visiting Evershift Haven for the first time.”

“Charmed, my dear,” says Madame Threads, taking my hand. “Welcome to ‘The Whimsical Wardrobe.’ Feel free to browse. The mirrors will show you how you’ll look in the future wearing any outfit you try on.”

As I marvel at this information, the shop door bursts open. A frazzled-looking pale-green woman with wild, silver-streaked purple hair stumbles in.

“Grizelda.” Madame Threads exclaims. “Are you all right?”

The woman looks green...um, greener...around the metaphorical gills. “Oh, Threads, it’s awful. The morning sickness is back with a vengeance, and my magic is going haywire. I can’t keep anything down, and every time I sneeze, something in the house turns into a pumpkin.”

Suzette rushes to Grizelda’s side, helping her to a nearby chair. “Grizelda, what about the Thanksgiving preparations? Weren’t you supposed to start organizing today?”

The green woman groans, putting a hand to her forehead. “I know, but in this condition, I can barely manage to dress myself, let alone plan a town-wide celebration. Oh, what are we going to do?”

I watch this exchange with sympathy for the woman and the town. As an event planner, I could offer at least some assistance, but surely, they wouldn’t want an outsider taking over such an important event, would they?

“Candice,” says Suzette as she turns in my direction, and her voice is filled with enthusiasm, “You’re an event planner. This is perfect.”

I blink, caught off-guard. “What’s perfect?”

She grins, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You can help organize the Thanksgiving feast. You’re the only unattached party available, and your skills are exactly what we need.”

My stomach drops. “I... I don’t know, Suzette. I’m not even from here. I don’t know anything about magical festivals or—”

“Nonsense,” interrupts Grizelda, brightening despite her apparent discomfort. “A fresh perspective is exactly what we need, and with your experience in event planning, you’ll be a natural.”

I glance around the shop, taking in the eager faces of Madame Threads, Grizelda, and my sister. A part of me wants to refuse, to retreat to the safety of the familiar, but another part, a part I thought I’d lost in the grind of corporate events, stirs with excitement at the challenge.

“I... okay,” I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “I’ll help.”

Suzette squeals with delight, pulling me into a hug. “I knew you’d say yes. This is going to be amazing.”

Before I can process what I’ve agreed to, I’m swept out of the shop and into the bustling town square. Grizelda chatters excitedly about the feast’s history and traditions, but my mind is spinning too fast to absorb it all.

We arrive at the town hall, a grand building that seems to shimmer and shift when we approach. Inside, a crowd has already gathered. I recognize a few faces from my brief time in Evershift Haven, including Bella from the coffee shop, and Throk, the charming orc mechanic.

As we enter, a hush falls over the room. An elderly man with a long white beard and twinkling eyes steps forward. “Ah, Suzette, and this must be your sister, Candice. Welcome, my dear. I am Ambrosius Spellbinder, the mayor of Evershift Haven.”

I nod, suddenly feeling very small and out of place. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

He smiles warmly. “I understand you’ve graciously agreed to help us with our Thanksgiving feast.” News travels fast here...supernaturally fast, I guess. “We’re most grateful for your assistance.”

“I’ll do my best,” I say, my voice sounding small in the large room.

“Excellent.” Ambrosius claps his hands, and a scroll appears out of thin air. “Now, let’s go over the details. The feast is in three days, and we have much to prepare.”

As Ambrosius begins to outline the various aspects, my event planner instincts kick in. I pull out my notebook and start jotting down ideas and questions. Despite the magical elements, many aspects of planning this feast are familiar.

“We’ll need volunteers for various tasks,” says Ambrosius, scanning the room. “Ah, Ronan. You’ll help, won’t you?”

My head snaps up at the name. Ronan, the handsome lycan lumberjack I met yesterday, steps forward. He nods at me, creating a flutter in my stomach.

“Of course, Mayor,” says Ronan with a faint growl that’s always there. “I’d be happy to help.”

Ambrosius beams. “Excellent. You and Candice can work together on the sourcing the ingredients before handling decorations and setup. Caelan will handle the food preparation, of course.” He nods to a man with flaming red hair and literal flames in his eyes.

I wonder what kind of creature Caelan is. I swallow hard, suddenly very aware of Ronan’s presence. He nods at me with a small smile. “Looking forward to working with you, Candice.”

“Likewise,” I manage to say, hoping my voice doesn’t betray my nerves.

As the meeting continues, I can’t stop stealing glances at Ronan. His powerful frame stands out even among the other magical beings, and there’s an intensity to his gaze that both unnerves and excites me.

Suzette sidles up to me, a knowing grin on her face as she nudges me with her elbow. “Looks like planning this feast might be more interesting than you thought.”

I roll my eyes but can’t prevent the smile that spreads across my face. “Oh, hush. We’re just working together.”

She laughs. “Sure, sure. Just remember, in Evershift Haven, anything is possible.”

Leaving the town hall, I’m looking forward to all this with excitement and nervousness. Planning a magical Thanksgiving feast with a handsome lycan lumberjack is certainly not how I expected my visit to Evershift Haven to go, but as I look around at the twinkling lights and the smiling faces of the townspeople, I’m more excited than scared.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON , I meet Ronan in the center of town. “Throk’s latest creation. He calls it the Hover-Hauler. Shall we?” He drives us in his strange truck without wheels that mostly seems to drive itself, heading out of the town proper. I roll down the window, and the autumn air carries the scent of ripe apples and freshly turned earth.

“Where exactly are we going?” I ask, clutching my planning notebook in my hand.

He glances at me. “We’re visiting some of the local farms to gather ingredients for the Thanksgiving feast. Thought you might like to see where our produce comes from, and the mayor asked...”

I nod, taking in the scenery. The path is lined with trees whose leaves are a riot of reds, oranges, and golds. As we drive, I notice strange, shimmering patterns in the air, like heat waves on a summer day. “What’s that?” I point to the distortion.

Ronan follows my gaze. “Ah, that’s the magical barrier between farm plots. Keeps the different energies from interfering with each other.”

I blink, still not quite used to casual mentions of magic. “Right. Of course.”

We approach the first farm, a sprawling field of pumpkins stretching as far as the eye can see. The vines seem to move slightly, even though there’s no breeze.

“Welcome to Gourdian’s Patch,” he says, gesturing to the field. “Best pumpkins in Evershift Haven.” He laughs. “You should have seen the chaos last month when Grizelda accidentally enchanted them, and they ran wild.”

“Sounds...” I trail off, not sure I want that adventure.

We get out of the truck and walk between the rows of pumpkins. I’m amazed by their unusual sizes and colors. Some are as small as my fist, while others are larger than Ronan. They come in every shade imaginable, from deep purple to shimmering gold.

Out of habit, I lean down to examine a particularly vibrant orange pumpkin. “Aren’t you a beauty,” I murmur, running my hand over its smooth surface.

“Why, thank you, darling,” says a gravelly voice . “You’re not so bad yourself.”

I jerk back my hand, stumbling and nearly falling. Ronan steadies me with a strong hand on my arm. “Did that pumpkin just...talk?” I ask, squeaking.

Ronan chuckles. “Yep. Gourdian’s pumpkins are known for their sass. It’s part of what makes them so flavorful.”

I stare at the pumpkin, which seems to be vibrating slightly, as if laughing. Cautiously, I bend forward again. “Um, hello. I’m Candice. I’m helping plan the Thanksgiving feast.”

The pumpkin’s voice softens slightly. “Ah, a newbie. Honey, if you’re looking for the best pies, you’ll want my cousin over there.” A vine points to a plump, pale orange pumpkin a few rows over. “She’s got the perfect balance of sweet and spice.”

“Thanks,” I say, still somewhat dazed. I turn to Ronan. “Is this normal?”

He grins, sharp canines glinting in the sunlight. “For Evershift Haven? Absolutely.” We make some selections, and the farmer promises to deliver them in plenty of time for the feast. When we’re done, Ronan says, “Let’s check out the next farm.”

We continue our tour, visiting fields of corn that whisper secrets as we pass, and apple orchards, where the ripest fruit practically leaps into our baskets. At each stop, I’m increasingly fascinated by the magical properties of the produce. I’ve always loved gardening, but this is something else. So amazing.

In a field of giant sunflowers, I reach out to touch a golden petal. The flower leans into my touch, humming contentedly.

“Oh, my,” I say. “They’re so alive.”

He nods, a soft smile on his face. “Everything here is alive in its own way. That’s why we treat the land and its bounty with such respect.”

We walk through a patch of enormous, iridescent squash, and I ask, “How does all this magic work with farming? It seems so different from what I’m used to.”

Ronan’s expression turns thoughtful. “It’s a partnership, really. The farmers here use their magic to nurture the land, and in return, the plants share their own kind of magic with us. It’s a delicate balance.”

I nod, scribbling notes in my book. “And how does this affect the Thanksgiving feast?”

Ronan plucks a shimmering purple squash from a vine before answering. “The magical properties of the produce make for some pretty spectacular dishes. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried Caelan’s color-changing pumpkin pie.”

I laugh, imagining a slice of pie shifting through a rainbow of colors. “I can’t wait to see it all come together.”

As the sun begins to set, painting the sky in brilliant hues of pink and orange, Ronan drives back toward town. “We’ve got one more farm. Puckley’s. It’s the heart of Evershift Haven’s agricultural magic.”

I perk up, remembering the small, moss-covered woman I met when I first arrived. “Puckley? The earth sprite?”

He nods. “That’s her. Her farm is something special, even by Evershift standards, but,” He adds with a wink, “That’ll have to wait for tomorrow. It’s getting late, and Puckley’s farm deserves a fresh start.”

I look at him, curiosity burning in my eyes. “What makes it so special?”

His grin widens, showing off his sharp canines. “You’ll see. Trust me. It’s worth the wait.”

As we turn back toward town, I’m filled with anticipation for tomorrow’s visit to Puckley’s farm, and not just to see how it functions. I’m enjoying spending time with Ronan. Despite my initial skepticism, I’m becoming more and more fascinated by the magic of Evershift Haven. The talking plants, the shimmering barriers, the vibrant colors—it’s all so far removed from my usual world of corporate events and spreadsheets.

I glance at Ronan, his powerful form silhouetted against the setting sun. There’s something about him, about this place, that makes me feel more alive than I have in years. I’m glad Suzette invited me into this magical world.