Chapter 32

THIRTY-TWO

T he storm clouds writhed overhead like living shadows, their unnatural purple-black hue casting an eerie glow over Whispering Pines. Briar stood at the edge of Falkor’s property, her dark red hair whipping around her face as she studied the magical disturbance. Each gust of wind carried crystalline shards of ice that seemed to seek out warmth and hope, determined to extinguish both.

“Your mother’s power grows stronger,” she said, turning to face Falkor. He stood rigid beside a frost-covered pine tree, golden eyes tracking the storm’s movement with centuries of pain evident in his expression. “We need our friends.”

Falkor’s jaw tightened, but she noted he didn’t immediately reject the idea. Progress. “The other witches,” he said flatly. “You’re sure they’ll help?”

“They’re already involved whether they want to be or not.” Briar gestured at the threatening sky. “That storm isn’t exactly discriminating in its targets. Besides, they trust you—you’ve helped them all before.”

A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Trust is a strong word.”

“They might not know you well, but they know you’re one of the good ones, Falkor. Even if you try really hard to hide it.”

He snorted, but she caught the slight softening around his eyes. “The witches’ circle, then?”

“It’s our best option. The grove’s ancient magic will give us protection while we plan.” Briar reached for her power, preparing to send the message. “The spirits can’t spy on us there.”

Falkor nodded once, sharp and decisive. “Do it.”

Briar closed her eyes, drawing on her magic. The spell formed like crystalline threads of light between her fingers, splitting into multiple strands as she wove her message: The storm grows stronger. Meet at the grove. Bring your mates. Hurry.

She sent the magical missives seeking Celeste, Daisy, Ellie, and Tabitha. Each thread sparkled as it shot away into the gathering darkness, carrying her urgent summons.

“Now we wait,” she said, but Falkor was already moving.

“We don’t wait. We prepare.” His voice carried the edge of command that reminded her he was centuries old, a dragon who had seen more battles than she could imagine. “The grove’s protective barriers will need strengthening before everyone arrives. Your magic works well with the old spells there—I’ve seen it. Start with that. I’ll secure the perimeter.”

Briar raised an eyebrow at his tactical shift but didn’t argue. He was right. They needed every advantage against what was coming.

The hidden grove lay deep in the woods where ancient magic still thrummed through the earth. Even here, Morganna’s influence tried to creep in—frost crackled along tree branches that had never known winter’s touch, and shadows writhed unnaturally in the corners of Briar’s vision. She walked the grove’s boundary, touching each of the sentinel trees that marked the sacred space. Her magic flowed into them, reinforcing protections laid down by generations of witches before her.

Falkor prowled the outer edges, his presence alone seeming to push back the encroaching darkness. Occasionally, his eyes would flash with inner fire, and another layer of warmth would spread through the grove, countering the supernatural chill.

Celeste arrived first, Kade’s powerful presence right behind her. The wolf shifter immediately went to help Falkor patrol while Celeste joined Briar at the center of the grove.

“It’s worse than we thought,” Celeste said without preamble, her green eyes troubled. “The magical barriers around town are starting to crack. Whatever this is, it’s not just a storm—it’s targeting our defenses specifically.”

Before Briar could respond, more footsteps crunched through the snow. Daisy burst into the clearing, her pink hair a shock of color against the gloom. Roarke materialized from the shadows behind her, his tactical training evident in the way he immediately assessed the space for threats.

Ellie and Reed came next, the sheriff’s badge glinting at Reed’s chest. “We had to leave three deputies dealing with dangerous ice formations downtown,” Reed reported grimly. “They’re spreading faster than we can contain them.”

Tabitha and Bram arrived last, their arms full of ancient texts from the library. “Jasper sent these,” Tabitha explained, setting them carefully on a flat rock. “He’s searching the restricted section for more information about spiritual warfare.”

The grove hummed with their combined power—witch magic mixing with shifter energy in a way that made the air itself feel alive. But the storm’s fury beat against their sanctuary like waves against a shore, testing for weaknesses.

“Thank you for coming,” Briar began then thunder cracked overhead with such force that the ground trembled. Several of the magical barriers flickered.

“Enough delays,” Falkor’s voice cut through the tension as he strode to Briar’s side. “You need to know what we’re facing. The spirit driving this storm belongs to my mother, Morganna. She was--”

“The dragon queen,” Celeste breathed, recognition dawning in her eyes. “The histories speak of her cruelty.”

“The histories are kind compared to reality.” Falkor’s words carried centuries of pain. “She corrupted everything she touched especially during the winter festivals. Her spirit has latched onto the town’s Christmas celebrations, feeding off fear and darkness, growing stronger with each passing hour.”