Page 86 of Impawssible Magic

The cat stares at her. His whole body seems to soften. The tension he’s been carrying since the moment he regained consciousness finally bleeds away.

I can never be your familiar again.

“I know.”

The bond is too broken. Even if we wanted to reform it, the magic won’t allow it. We’re too different now.

“I know that too.”

But I can be your friend. A pause. If you’ll have me. I can stay in Mistvale. Watch over your shop. Help you when you need it. Another pause. If you want.

Leire laughs—watery, raw. “I’d like that. I’d really like that.”

She gathers him into her arms. He presses his face against her neck, purring. The sound fills the small room, warm and healing.

I look away. Give them privacy.

Anouk appears at my elbow again. “The control spells are completely dissolved. He’ll need time to recover, but there’s no permanent damage.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” She studies my face with cool, assessing eyes. “The claiming took. I can feel it from here.”

“Is that a problem?”

“The opposite.” Something moves across her expression—quick as a shadow, gone before I can name it. The look of someone who has done the accounting and found themselves on the wrong side of a ledger. “You’re the first successful witch-shifter claiming in recorded memory. Whatever Leire has—this mate potential—it’s rare. Possibly unique. The Preservers spent considerable resources trying to prevent this.”

“And failed.”

“And failed.” A slight smile. “Good for them.”

She doesn’t say what she’s thinking. Neither do I. But I saw her face when Shadow’s broken bond came up—the way her jaw tightened, the careful stillness of someone who knows exactly what it costs to lose that kind of connection.

I look back at Shadow, curled against Leire’s side. He’ll need months to fully recover what was taken from him—the Preservers don’t leave clean damage. But he’s fighting his way back, one day at a time, and Leire will be there for each of them. Some bonds survive worse than what they endured.

The afternoon brings chaos.

Leire’s shop—what’s left of it—becomes ground zero for a celebration no one planned. Sakura arrives first, practically bouncing, clouds literally parting above her head as her mood lifts. Then Zeph storms in with a crate of bottles that glow an alarming shade of purple.

“Celebration brew!” She starts uncorking bottles with reckless enthusiasm. “I made it special. No weird side effects, I promise.”

“Define ‘weird.’” Leire eyes the bottles suspiciously.

“Temporary. Any side effects are temporary.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“Reassurance is for cowards. Try it.”

“What are the potential side effects?”

“Minor. Probably minor.” Zeph waves a hand dismissively. “Slight tingling. Possible temporary color changes. Brief episodes of enhanced hearing. Nothing permanent. Almost nothing permanent. One person’s hair turned blue for a week, but that was a feature, not a bug.”

“I’m going to pass.”

“Your loss.” Zeph downs half a bottle herself, belches spectacularly, and grins. “So. You mated the murder cat. How was it?”

Sakura makes a strangled sound. “Zeph!”