Chapter 8

I STAND TRANSFIXED as Grizelda keeps her hands raised. The chaotic scene around us falls silent, with everyone holding their breath. Her reputation for magical mishaps might worry some of the others, but there’s a confidence in her stance that gives me hope.

“Don’t worry, darlings.” Grizelda winks. “I’ve got this under control.”

She begins to murmur words too low for me to catch. A soft, shimmering glow emanates from her fingertips, spreading outward to fill the entire square. The light dances all of us as the food returns to the table. Some dishes, like the turkey, remain enlarged, but others have reverted to normal or missed the effects of the haywire spell entirely.

Grizelda snaps her fingers with a flourish. A soft shimmer passes over the assembled crowd, and the food splatters adorning my clothes and hair vanish without a trace. Around me, others pat themselves down in disbelief, finding themselves suddenly clean and presentable.

The tables and chairs right themselves, tablecloths smoothing out as if by invisible hands. Centerpieces reappear, perfectly arranged. Even the grass beneath our feet, trampled during the food fight, springs back to life, looking freshly manicured.

As the last remnants of the chaos settle, a collective sigh of relief ripples through the crowd. Then, as if on cue, cheers and applause erupt. Grizelda takes a small, proud bow, her wild purple hair bouncing with the movement.

“That was incredible,” I whisper, still in awe of what I’ve just witnessed.

Ronan grins beside me. “Grizelda may cause her fair share of magical mishaps, but when it counts, she always comes through.”

Mayor Ambrosius steps forward, his long white beard still slightly stained with cranberry sauce. “Thank you, Grizelda. Your quick thinking has saved our celebration.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, it was nothing. Just a little magical tidying up. Now, shall we eat? I don’t know about you all, but that food fight has left me famished.”

Laughter ripples through the crowd as people begin to make their way back to the tables. I hang back, still processing everything that’s happened. Ronan touches my arm.

“You okay?” he asks. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

I nod slowly. “It’s just... I’ve never seen anything like that before. In my world, magic is just tricks and illusions, but this was real.”

Ronan smiles softly. “Welcome to Evershift Haven, where the impossible is just another Tuesday...or Friday,” he adds with a wink, alluding to the postponement of the feast due to yesterday’s weather.

Making our way to a table, Grizelda approaches us. Up close, I can see the faint sheen of sweat on her pale-green ski,n and the slight tremor in her hands—signs of the effort her spell required.

“Candice, dear,” she says warmly. “I hope our little magical mishap didn’t scare you off. How are you finding Evershift Haven so far?”

I laugh, a bit nervously. “It’s certainly never dull. That was amazing, what you did. Thank you for saving the feast.” I don’t bother pointing out she was the one who derailed it to start with.

Grizelda beams. “Oh, it’s all in a day’s work for the town witch. Now, tell me, have you tried the pumpkin pie yet? I infused it with a little happiness spell—guaranteed to bring a smile to your face.”

As she chatters on about her magical dessert, I’m amazed at how quickly the extraordinary has become ordinary here. Just days ago, I would have dismissed talk of happiness spells and magical mishaps as fantasy or insanity. Now, I’m eagerly anticipating a slice of enchanted pumpkin pie.

“You simply must try the cranberry sauce,” she insists. “Caelan infused it with a touch of joy. One bite, and you’ll be grinning from ear to ear.”

I nod, still processing the idea of emotion-infused food. “That sounds... interesting. Is it safe?”

“Oh, perfectly safe, dear. Just a smidge of magic to enhance the flavors and lift the spirits. Nothing too potent.”

Ronan chuckles beside me. “Don’t worry, Candice. Caelan’s food magic is harmless, though I’d steer clear of his giggle-inducing gravy if I were you. Last year, half the town couldn’t stop laughing for hours.”

The witch chuckles. “That was one time. Caelan assured me he’s perfected the recipe since then.”

As we make our way to the tables, I’m struck by the vibrant array of dishes spread before us. Turkeys with golden, crackling skin sit alongside colorful vegetable platters that seem to shimmer in the light. Pies of every variety line the dessert table, their aromas mingling in the crisp autumn air. It’s truly like the food fight never happened.

Ronan guides me to a seat. We settle in next to Suzette and Throk, who are already engaged in animated conversation.

“Did you see Grizelda’s save earlier?” asks Throk, his deep voice rumbling with amusement. “I thought for sure we’d be chasing that gelatinous menace all the way to the Whispering Woods.”

Suzette laughs, sounding carefree. It’s a total contrast to the stressed-out sister I remember from before she discovered Evershift Haven. “I’m just glad she managed to stop it before it reached ‘Mystical Motors.’ Can you imagine trying to get gelatin monster out of an engine?”

I giggle at the mental image. “Is this normal for Evershift Haven? Magical food fights and dancing decorations?”

Throk grins, his tusks glinting in the sunlight. “Normal? Not exactly, but it’s not exactly out of the ordinary either. Life here is always an adventure.”

As we begin to fill our plates, I’m amazed by the variety of dishes. Alongside traditional Thanksgiving fare, there are foods I’ve never seen before—a shimmering blue gelatin that seems to change flavors with each bite, bread rolls that float just above the basket, and a gravy boat that refills itself.

“This is incredible,” I say, taking a bite of mashed potatoes that taste like they were made from clouds. “I’ve never experienced anything like this.”

Ronan beams, clearly pleased by my enthusiasm. “Wait until you try the stuffing. It’s my mother’s recipe, passed down through generations of lycans. She taught it to Caelan when she was his sous chef years ago.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Lycan stuffing? Should I be worried?”

He laughs, a rich, warm sound that sends a pleasant shiver down my spine. “No need to worry. It’s made with herbs from the Whispering Woods. The trees themselves recommend the best combinations each year.”

As we eat, conversation flows easily. Stories of past Thanksgivings in Evershift Haven are shared, each more fantastical than the last. I learn about the year a flock of enchanted turkeys crashed the festivities, demanding to be guests rather than the main course, and the time when a miscalculation in Grizelda’s enlargement spell resulted in a pumpkin pie the size of a house. They had leftovers until almost Christmas Eve.

Throughout the meal, Ronan watches me. Each time our gazes meet, I’m reminded of our night together, and of the connection that seems to be growing stronger with each passing moment.

As the meal winds down, Suzette tilts her head my way, indicating she wants to talk privately. I excuse myself from the table and follow her to a quiet corner of the square.

“So,” she says, a knowing smile on her face. “Did you have a good night last night?”

My cheeks flush, but I smile. “I did. We got caught in the storm, and...” I waggle my eyebrows to her appreciative giggle.

Her expression turns thoughtful. “Are you planning to return to Chicago next week?”

I hesitate, suddenly realizing I haven’t given much thought to my departure. The idea of leaving Evershift Haven, and Ronan, creates an unexpected ache in my chest. “I’m...not sure yet,” I confess.

Suzette squeezes my hand in a silent show of support. “There’s no rush to decide. Evershift Haven has a way of helping people find their place, even if they didn’t know they were looking for one.”

I nod. “It’s just...everything here is so different, and so magical. Part of me can’t imagine going back to my old life, but another part is terrified of such a big change.”

Her expression softens. “I get it. I felt the same way when I first arrived, but I’ve never seen you look as happy or as alive as you do right now. Maybe that’s worth exploring?”

Before I can respond, Ronan appear beside us. “Everything okay?” he asks with concern.

I nod, offering him a reassuring smile. “Everything’s fine. Suzette and I were just catching up.”

She gives my hand one last squeeze and opens her mouth to say more, but Mayor Ambrosius’s voice booms across the square, calling everyone to attention.

“Friends, neighbors, and honored guests,” he says, his long white beard now impeccably groomed. “We gather today to celebrate not only the bounty of our harvest but the spirit of community that makes Evershift Haven so special.”

As the mayor continues his speech, I can’t look away from Ronan. He stands tall and proud, his powerful frame a stark contrast to the delicate china he’s carefully arranging as we pitch in to help with the quiet transition from savory to sweet during the speech. When he catches me looking, he winks, sending a thrill through me.

When the speech ends, the dessert buffet begins in earnest, and I’m swept up in a whirlwind of flavors, laughter, and conversation. As I take my first bite of Grizelda’s pumpkin pie, a wave of pure joy washes over me. It’s not overwhelming or artificial, but a gentle warmth that spreads from my chest to the tips of my fingers and toes. I look up, catching her gaze across the table. She gives me a knowing smile and a thumbs-up.

“Good, isn’t it?” asks Ronan, leaning close. His breath tickles my ear.

“It’s incredible,” I say, offering him a forkful. “Here, try some.”

He opens his mouth, allowing me to feed him the bite of pie. As he savors it, his eyelids close in bliss, and I’m struck by how natural this feels—sharing food, sharing joy, and sharing a moment of quiet intimacy amid the bustling celebration.

As the evening wears on, I’m drawn into conversations with various townsfolk. Each has a story to tell, or a bit of magic to share. Puckley shares tales of talking vegetables and mischievous weeds. Bella from “The Enchanted Espresso” demonstrates her ability to create latte art that moves and changes based on the drinker’s mood.

Through it all, Ronan remains at my side. He fills in gaps in my knowledge, introduces me to people I haven’t met, and keeps my glass full. His attentiveness warms me more than any magical brew ever could.

As the sun begins to set, casting a golden glow over the square, Throk stands and raises his glass. “A toast,” he calls out, his deep voice carrying easily over the chatter. “To new friends and old, to the magic that binds us, and to the love that sustains us.”

“Hear, hear,” echoes the crowd before glasses clink all around.

I raise my own glass, meeting Ronan’s gaze over the rim. Surrounded by the warmth and wonder of Evershift Haven, I realize I’m facing a choice. The life I’ve known in Chicago seems a world away, while this new reality—full of magic, adventure, and the promise of something deeper with Ronan—beckons enticingly.

As the feast winds down, I’m caught in a whirlwind of emotions. The magic of Evershift Haven surrounds me, from the twinkling lights that dance in the air to the laughter that seems to shimmer with its own enchantment. I’m lost in thought when his gentle touch on my arm brings me back to the present.

He smiles at me. “Care for a walk?”

My heart beats erratically. There’s something in his tone, a hint of significance that makes me suspect this isn’t just a casual stroll. I nod, unable to find my voice for a moment.

We slip away from the crowd, and I notice the enchanted cornucopia still glowing steadily at the center of the feast table. Its warm light seems to follow us. The evening air is crisp with the scent of fallen leaves and distant bonfires.

We walk in companionable silence for a while, our footsteps crunching on the leaf-strewn path. The town square gradually fades behind us, replaced by the peaceful whisper of trees. I sneak glances at Ronan, admiring how the moonlight plays across his strong features, and the way his fur seems to absorb the shadows.

“That was some feast, huh?” I say.

He chuckles. “I could have done without the animated turkey incident.”

I laugh, remembering the chaos. “I don’t know. I thought it added a certain...excitement to the evening.”

“Is that what we’re calling near-death by poultry these days?”

We share a laugh, and I move closer to him, drawn by his warmth in the cool night air.

“Candice,” he says, his tone turning serious. He stops walking and turns to face me. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

My breath catches in my throat. Here it comes , I think. The conversation I’ve been both anticipating and dreading.

“I know you’re planning to go back to Chicago soon,” he says, looking pained. “I respect that. Your life is there, your job, your friends, but I can’t help wondering...is there a chance you might consider staying in Evershift Haven?”