Chapter 4

SOFT LIGHT FILTERS through the mushroom house’s quaint windows when I wake. The events of yesterday still swirl in my mind like a fantastical dream, but the earthy scent of the room grounds me in this new reality. Magic is real, and I’m smack-dab in the middle of it.

A gentle knock at the door pulls me from my reverie. “Candice? Ronan’s here to pick you up,” says Suzette.

I hop out of bed, quickly pulling on a flowy bohemian dress and my favorite crystal necklace. As I step outside, he greets me with a smile that makes my toes curl.

“Morning, Candice. Ready for another magical farm tour?” He extends a clawed hand, helping me into the passenger seat.

“You’re going to love Puckley’s.” Ronan slides into the driver’s seat, pressing a button on the dashboard. The Hover-Hauler hums to life, gliding smoothly forward. “We’re picking up most of the ingredients for the town feast there.”

Cruising through town, I marvel at the sights, still not used to all this. Fairies flit between flower baskets, their wings catching the morning light while a group of gnomes argues over the proper way to hang a banner, their voices high-pitched and excitable.

“So, Candice,” says Ronan, breaking me from my observations. “What do you think of Evershift Haven now?”

I turn to him, noticing how the sunlight catches the silver streaks in his fur. “It’s...overwhelming. Amazing. I keep thinking I’ll wake up, and this will all have been a dream.”

He nods, his expression understanding. “It’s a lot to take in, but you’re handling it well. Some humans don’t adjust so easily.”

“What happens to them?”

He grows serious. “We have ways of erasing memories, if necessary. It’s not ideal, but it protects both them and us.”

The thought of forgetting all this magic makes my heart ache. “I don’t want to forget,” I say firmly.

Our gazes meet, and for a second, I’m lost in their piercing blue depths. “I’m glad to hear that,” he says softly.

We lapse into comfortable silence as the town gives way to rolling countryside. Fields of shimmering crops stretch as far as the eye can see, punctuated by orchards, where fruit seems to glow with an inner light.

“Here we are,” he says as we pull up to a sprawling farmhouse. The building seems to be alive, its wooden walls shifting and creaking as if breathing.

Puckley emerges from the house, her moss-covered skin glowing in the morning sun. “Welcome, welcome.” she calls, her voice as rich and earthy as freshly tilled soil. “Come to collect some of the harvest, have you?”

When we climb out of the truck, I’m struck by the vibrant energy emanating from the farm. The very air seems to hum with life. “Puckley,” I say, unable to contain my curiosity, “How does magical farming work? Is it very different from regular farming?”

She beckons us to follow her into the fields. “Oh, my dear, you’re in for a treat. Magical farming is a dance with nature itself.”

While walking, Puckley explains the intricacies of her craft. “Regular farming is all about coaxing what nature has already given—careful timing, feeding, weeding, and hoping the rain falls just right. In magical farming, you’re more than a caretaker. You’re a partner in the life cycle.”

She stops by a row of tomatoes, their leaves shimmering faintly under the autumn sun. “These beauties here have minds of their own—plants know what they need, and they’ll tell you, if you’re open to listening.” She taps her ear, winking at me. “See, enchanted plants like to have a say. They’ll grow faster or slower depending on their mood, and the energy around them, and sometimes, they even prefer certain songs over others. You don’t just feed the soil. You nourish the spirit of the plant.”

I watch in awe as Puckley hums a soft melody. The tomato plants seem to sway in response, their fruits plumping before my eyes.

“That’s incredible,” I say, “But how do you know what they need?”

She chuckles, digging a hand into a pouch at her waist. “It’s all about intention and connection. Watch this.”

She sprinkles a pinch of glittering soil around the base of a towering sunflower. The plant shivers, and suddenly, its petals burst into a brilliant array of colors.

“Regular soil, you test it, amend it, do what you must to get the right mix. This here,” she says, patting the dirt affectionately, “Is truly living soil. It carries intention. One sprinkle of enchanted soil like this can revive a field or bring strength to a sapling, but it’s also sensitive to balance. Too much magic, and you’ll get an overgrown forest overnight.”

Continuing through the fields, I’m struck by the harmony between Puckley and her crops. Plants seem to reach out to her as she passes, and she greets each one like an old friend.

“What about pests?” I ask, remembering the constant battle against insects and diseases in my small herb garden back home.

She grins, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Ah, now that’s where it gets fun. In magical farming, we don’t fight pests. We negotiate with them.”

She leads us to a patch of what looks like ordinary lettuce. When we approach, I notice tiny, shimmering creatures flitting between the leaves.

“These are leaf sprites,” she says. “They help keep the plants healthy in exchange for a small portion of the harvest. It’s all about balance and mutual respect.”

I crouch down, watching the sprites at work. One notices me and zips over, hovering inches from my nose. Its tiny face scrunches up in curiosity before it darts away, leaving a trail of sparkling dust. “They’re beautiful.”

“Very,” says Ronan, his voice soft. I look up to find him watching me, a warm smile on his face.

While we continue our tour, Puckley shares more magical farming secrets. She shows us self-watering melons that store rainwater in pocket dimensions, and pumpkins that change flavor based on the stories told to them as they grow. “And don’t get me started on weeds,” she says with a laugh. “Pulling them out of regular soil is work, but enchanted weeds? They’ll argue with you the whole time, swearing they have just as much right to be there as the crops.”

As if on cue, a patch of dandelions near our feet begins to rustle. “We’re not weeds, we’re wildflowers,” says a tiny, indignant voice. “You’re just biased against yellow.”

“Oh, hush,” says Puckley, but kindly. “Dandelions aren’t weeds. You have all sorts of culinary, magical, and medicinal benefits.” The patch of dandelions preen under her words.

I laugh, delighted by the sheer wonder of it all. “This is amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Puckley beams at me. “You’ve got a good eye for it, Candice. I can see the spark of magic in you. Have you ever considered trying your hand at farming?”

The question catches me off guard. “Me? I’ve thought about it, but it’s just a pipe dream. I mean, I have a small herb garden at home, but nothing like this.”

“Sometimes, the seed of magic takes root in the most unexpected places,” she says cryptically.

Returning to the farmhouse a while later with arms full of produce for the town feast, a sense of excitement bubbles inside me. Ronan helps me load the last of the harvest into the Hover-Hauler. “What did you think of magical farming?”

I look out over Puckley’s fields, watching the plants sway in a breeze I can’t feel, their leaves whispering secrets to each other. “I think,” I say slowly, “I might have found something truly special here in Evershift Haven.” Glancing back at him, it’s not just the farm that I’m referencing.

Ronan’s smile is warm and genuine. “I think you might be right about that, Candice.”

A COUPLE OF DAYS LATER , I wake up to the bustling sounds of Evershift Haven preparing for the town feast. The air is crisp with autumn, carrying the scent of cinnamon and woodsmoke. I slip on a flowing skirt and my favorite crystal necklace before heading out to help with the preparations.

The town square is a flurry of activity. Stalls are being set up, decorations hung, and the clatter of pots and pans resonates from the direction of the open glade near “Beastly Bites,” where the town feast will be held. I make my way there, dodging a group of excitable fairy children, who zoom past on miniature broomsticks.

As I approach “Beastly Bites,” I see the chef, Caelan—who I know now is a fire demon— directing a team of helpers. His flame-red hair dances like a living fire atop his head, and his eyes glow with enthusiasm.

“Ah, Candice,” he calls out when he spots me. “Perfect timing. We need another pair of hands to sort through these deliveries.”

I nod, rolling up my sleeves. “Happy to help. Where do you want me?”

He points to a pile of crates near the back of a large table. Everything is being sorted and prepared open-air today, but there are no insects hovering. I assume someone cast a repellant charm. “Those just came in from Puckley’s farm. Start unpacking and sorting, please. Vegetables on the left and fruits on the right.”

I set to work, marveling at the vibrant colors and unusual shapes of the produce. Puckley’s farm was simply too large for me to have seen all these on my tour. Some of the vegetables pulse with a faint inner light, while others change color as I touch them.

“These are amazing,” I say to no one in particular.

A deep, rumbling voice responds from behind me. “Wait until you taste them.”

I turn to find Ronan standing there. My heart does a little flip at the sight of him, which I quickly try to suppress. “Ronan,” I say, hoping my voice sounds steady. “Are you here to help too?”

He nods, moving to stand beside me. “Caelan asked me to lend a hand with the heavy lifting since you and I finished the decorating yesterday.”

We work side by side, unpacking crates and sorting produce, as Caelan calls out various menu ideas. That’s when the clash begins.

“For the main course, I’m thinking a grand roast beast,” says the chef. “With a side of bloodroot mash and cannibal carrots.”

I freeze, my hand halfway to a shimmering eggplant. “Cannibal carrots?”

Caelan waves a hand dismissively. “They only eat other vegetables. They’re perfectly safe for human consumption.”

I shake my head. “That’s not... I mean, I’m actually a vegetarian.”

The kitchen goes quiet for a moment. Ronan looks at me, his eyes wide with surprise.

“A vegetarian?” Caelan repeats, sounding perplexed. “But... how do you survive without meat?”

I straighten up, feeling a need to defend my lifestyle. “There are plenty of delicious and nutritious plant-based options. In fact, I’d be happy to suggest some vegetarian dishes for the feast.”

Ronan clears his throat. “Caelan, perhaps we could offer both options? A meat dish and a vegetarian alternative?”

Caelan considers this for a moment, then nods. “Yes, yes, that could work. Candice, what would you suggest for a vegetarian main course?”

I think for a moment. “How about a hearty mushroom stew? We could use some of these amazing magical vegetables. Maybe those color-changing squash and the glowing mushrooms?”

Caelan’s eyes light up—literally, as small flames dance in his pupils. “Ooh, yes. And we could enchant the stew to change flavors with each bite. Brilliant.”

While we continue discussing the menu, I notice Ronan watching me with curiosity. “I’ve never met a vegetarian before other than some of the sprites and pixies. Is it a common practice in the human world?”

I nod. “It’s becoming more popular, yes. Some people do it for health reasons, and others for ethical or environmental concerns.” I frown. “I do it because I got a tick bite when I was little that made me allergic to certain proteins. Most meat literally makes me sick.”

Ronan looks thoughtful. “Interesting...and sorry about that. In lycan culture, meat is a crucial part of our diet. We need the protein to maintain our strength, especially during transformations.”

As if to emphasize his point, he reaches into a nearby cooler and pulls out a raw steak. Without hesitation, he takes a big bite, sharp teeth tearing through the meat.

I stare with fascination and horror coursing through me. The sight of blood dripping down his chin makes my stomach churn, but I also recall the taste of a hamburger sharper than I have in years and wish I could have one. Alas, it’s not worth the illness that follows when a portobello burger is a reasonable substitute.

Ronan notices my expression and quickly wipes his mouth. “Sorry,” he says, looking sheepish. “I forget that can be off-putting to humans.”

“It’s okay,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “You’re probably an obligate carnivore, right? Like a cat or a dog?”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize how they might sound. Ronan raises an eyebrow, and I giggle at the absurdity of the situation.

“I mean, not that you’re like a pet or anything,” I quickly add, my cheeks burning as I imagine him curled up on my lap watching a movie. There’s nothing fuzzy or platonic about that image. “I just meant... oh, never mind.”

To my relief, he chuckles. “I understand, and you’re not entirely wrong. Lycans do have certain dietary needs that are closer to wolves than humans. Dogs aren’t obligate carnivores either, by the way, but they do need most of their diet to come from protein. Same for lycans.”

Our gazes meet, and for a moment, I forget about the raw meat and the dietary differences. Instead, I’m wondering what other differences there are between lycans and humans. My gaze wants to dip...southward...but I fight the urge and make myself maintain eye contact. There’s warmth in Ronan’s gaze that makes my heart skip a beat and almost makes me forget my curiosity about his anatomy.

Almost...

Caelan’s voice breaks the moment. “All right, you two. Less chatting, more sorting. We’ve got a feast to prepare.”

We both jump slightly, turning our attention back to the task at hand. As we continue working, I keep stealing glances at Ronan. Despite our differences, there’s something about him that intrigues me.

The outdoor kitchen buzzes with activity while we prepare for the feast. Caelan orchestrates the chaos like a maestro, his fiery hair flickering with excitement. I focus on preparing the vegetarian dishes, determined to show plant-based food can be delicious.

As I chop some color-changing squash, Ronan watches me. He’s preparing a marinade for the roast beast, his powerful hands mixing herbs with practiced ease. He tells me more about the people around us and the town while we work. until a loud pop on the other side of the kitchen interrupts our conversation.

We turn to see Caelan frantically waving his hands over a pot that’s emitting rainbow-colored smoke. “Oops,” he says, grinning sheepishly. “Looks like the flavor-changing enchantment was a bit too strong. This might go from blueberry to beets. That’s too much, but don’t worry. I’ll fix it.”

I laugh at the sight of the normally composed fire demon chef looking so flustered. Ronan joins in, his deep chuckle harmonizing with my giggles. As the day progresses, I enjoy the preparations. The magical ingredients are fascinating to work with, and there’s a sense of community in the kitchen that warms my heart. Even Caelan’s occasional magical mishaps add to the charm of the experience.

By late afternoon, the feast is starting to come together. The air is filled with mouth-watering aromas, both familiar and exotic. I’ve just finished putting the final touches on a shimmering salad when Ronan approaches me again.

“Candice,” he says, looking a bit nervous. “I was wondering if you’d like to take a break and go for a walk? There’s something I’d like to show you.”

I glance at Caelan, who waves us off with a flaming hand. “Go, go. You’ve both earned a break. I won’t need you again until dinner, when we feast.”

We step away from the bustling outdoor kitchen, and I realize how much I’ve been enjoying my time in Evershift Haven. Despite the initial shock, and the occasional clashes of culture, there’s something magical about this place that goes beyond the obvious enchantments.

“Where are we going?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

He smiles, a hint of mystery in his blue eyes. “You’ll see. It’s a special place that I think you’ll appreciate, especially given your connection to nature.” Ronan leads me toward the edge of town, where the Whispering Woods begin. The trees seem to sway toward us as we approach, rustling their leaves with what sounds suspiciously like whispered greetings.

When we walk deeper into the woods, the air grows thick with an otherworldly energy. I strain my ears, catching whispers that sound eerily like voices. “Ronan,” I say, my voice hushed. “Are the trees...talking?”

He nods with a smile. “They are. Listen closely.”

I concentrate, and suddenly, the whispers become clearer. To my amazement, I hear snippets of conversation and...poetry?

“Fair maiden with hair of gold,

In our woods, a story unfolds.

With the lycan strong and true,

A tale of love, both old and new.”

My cheeks flush when I realize the trees are talking about us.

Ronan chuckles. “They seem to like you,” he says. “The Whispering Woods don’t talk to just anyone, you know. Only those with an affinity for greenery can hear them directly.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Really? So not everyone can hear this?”

Ronan shakes his head. “No. Throk can hear them, and I can, of course, but even Suzette can’t. You must have a special connection to nature.”

The revelation makes me pause. I’ve always loved plants, but I never imagined it could be anything more than a hobby. Could there be more to my connection with nature than I realized?

As we continue walking, the trees’ whispers grow more insistent. Their branches seem to reach out, gently brushing against us as if trying to push us closer together.

“Young love, so sweet and shy,

Beneath our boughs, don’t be sly.

A kiss, a touch, don’t hesitate,

For in this moment, seal your fate.”

My eyes widen as I process the words. Are the trees telling us to kiss? I glance at Ronan, who looks equally surprised and...is that a hint of hope in his eyes?

For a moment, I consider it. He is undeniably attractive, and there’s something about him that draws me in, but the suddenness of it all, coupled with the strangeness of our surroundings, makes me hesitate.

“I, uh... I think I need a break,” I stammer, taking a step back. “And maybe a drink. How about we head to ‘The Enchanted Espresso?’”

His expression flickers with disappointment before he nods. “Of course. Let’s head back.”

As I turn to walk away, I hear Ronan’s deep voice behind me, chiding the trees. “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve scared her off.”

The trees rustle in response, their tone almost apologetic. He chuckles before following me as I pretend I didn’t hear their exchange.

We make our way back toward town, the silence between us charged with unspoken words. The Whispering Woods gradually give way to the more manicured landscape of Evershift Haven, and I’m both relieved and oddly disappointed to be leaving the magical forest behind.

Approaching “The Enchanted Espresso,” I sneak a glance at Ronan. His profile is strong and defined, and his fur gleams in the late afternoon sunlight. I wonder what it would feel like to run my fingers through it.