She climbed the stairs, knocked twice, and Avine opened the door before her hand dropped.
“You’re here.” Avine wrapped her in a hug—warm and immediate, without hesitation. “We were starting to worry.”
“I’m only ten minutes late.”
“You’re never late. You’re usually early because you scope out the exits.” Avine stepped back, her dark eyes searching Lunaria’s face. “How’s Hux?”
“Recovering. Still tired, but the void marks are almost gone.”
Emotion flickered across Avine’s expression—understanding, maybe. Or recognition. “Come on. Everyone’s waiting.”
The suite was exactly as Lunaria remembered from the first Girls’ Night. But the mood was different tonight. Heavier.
Junie sat on the loveseat, her usual chaotic energy dimmed to something quieter. She looked up when Lunaria entered and didn’t smile—just held out her hand in silent invitation. Cassia perched on the arm of the sofa, storm-dark energy crackling at her fingertips like she was ready to throw lightning at a moment’s notice. Narla occupied the window seat, her expression carefully neutral in that way that meant she was seeing far more than she was saying.
And on the coffee table, propped up against a bowl of snacks, Dahlia’s face glowed from a tablet screen—video-calling from Paris, the kitchen of her pop-up boulangerie bright behind Cal’s massive form.
“There she is.” Dahlia’s voice was warm despite the digital distance. “We were just about to send out a search party.”
“I’m fine.” Lunaria crossed to the loveseat and let Junie tug her down beside her. Her cousin’s hand stayed wrapped around hers, anchoring. “I was just... saying goodbye to Hux.”
“Okay.” Avine settled into the armchair across from them and reached for the wine bottle. “You called this meeting, Luna. What’s happening?”
Lunaria took a breath. Then another. Then she started talking.
TWENTY-EIGHT
LUNARIA
She told them everything. This was the full truth, laid out in all its terrible detail.
The Hollow King.
The Holt curse.
Cornelius Marsh. The man who’d made the deal, who’d volunteered his wife’s family as the anchor for a binding that should have been impossible. Who’d killed Deia Tullio when she discovered the truth, silenced Georgia Gentry and Isandro Holt to protect his secret, and left behind a fragment of himself that still stalked Haven Shores from beyond the grave.
The Convergence. The moment when celestial alignments would thin the barriers between realms and give the Hollow King—fed on stolen futures for over a century—the power to cross over fully. When it manifested, it would consume every fated bond in Haven Shores—including the five couples who’d formed during the mating surge.
Including Avine and Theo. Junie and Leo. Cassia and Aero. Narla and Wyatt. Dahlia and Cal.
When she finished, the silence was absolute.
Then Junie’s hand tightened on hers—hard enough to hurt, hard enough to ground her.
“We’re going to destroy this thing.”
Her cousin’s voice was steady, certain, without a hint of the fear Lunaria had expected. Junie’s other hand came up, flames of chaos magic dancing across her knuckles like restless fireflies.
“I’ve been brewing things. So many things. Leo keeps tripping over boxes of potions every time he walks through the house.” The flames brightened. “My chaos magic should be very effective against void creatures. They exist in the spaces between moments, right? Chaos disrupts patterns. I can make those spaces very uncomfortable for them.”
“The Convergence will affect weather patterns.” Cassia’s storm energy crackled louder, lightning flickering behind her dark eyes. “All that celestial realignment—it’s going to mess with atmospheric pressure, electromagnetic fields, the whole system. I might be able to use that. Channel the disturbance into something useful instead of letting it just... happen.”
“I can coordinate the defense.” Avine was already producing a notebook, scribbling what looked like a battle plan. “The Siren’s Rest can be a staging ground—it’s central, it’s warded, and I’ve hosted enough community gatherings to know how to manage a crowd. And my sea magic...” She looked up, meeting Lunaria’s eyes. “If you need more power for the gardens, I can help channel it.”
“Beck Driscoll’s already reached out,” Avine added. “He and Rosemary came to the Siren’s Rest earlier. She’s a marine biologist—been tracking unusual tidal readings off the coast that line up exactly with the Convergence timeline. She spread her charts across my dining table, and Beck sat beside her, handing her things before she asked, the way you do when you know someone’s rhythms by heart. If the void comes from the water, we’ll know.”
“Truth magic.” Narla spoke for the first time, her voice soft but certain. “The candles showed what was hidden before—the mates nobody could see, the bonds that hadn’t formed yet. Maybe they can help reveal the Hollow King, strip away whatever’s protecting it. You said it hides in the spaces between things. What if we shine light into those spaces?”
