Page 96 of Roaring Spell

“That’s not—” I start.

“Cheers!” The room erupts in agreement.

I drink. The beer is excellent—warm and complex, with undertones of honey and wildflowers and magic. Almost immediately, I feel lighter. Happier. Like the world is golden and perfect and nothing could possibly go wrong.

“Definitely mild euphoria.” I set down the glass. “Zeph, what’s in this?”

“Trade secret.” She winks. “But I call it ‘Claiming Day Celebration.’ Only made for very special occasions.”

The party flows around us. Rhodes documents everything, because, of course, he is. Aslan and Leire exchange knowing glances, the shared understanding of recently mated couples who recognize exactly what we’re feeling.

Anouk catches my eye across the room and makes her way over, champagne untouched, her expression shifting into something more deliberate.

“The council audit is complete.” Her voice is quiet, meant for us rather than the room. “Two other members had connections to Valesh’s cell— Councilors Dresh and Faine. Both have resigned pending investigation. Faine had access to the Registry ward logs. He’s how the trap at the property line knew we were coming.” A pause. “The coven is restructuring. Properly, this time. It will take months to sort through what she corrupted, but we’re doing it.”

“Thank you.” Sakura’s voice is genuine. “For all of it. The investigation, the archive work⁠—”

“It’s what the coven is for.” Anouk’s expression warms by a fraction. “Protecting the community. Including the ones we didn’t protect well enough before.” She lifts her champagne in a small private toast and moves away.

“This is nice.” Sakura leans back against my chest, my arms around her waist. “I never thought I’d have this.”

“The party?”

“The belonging.” She tips her head back to look at me. “For the first time in my life, I’m not waiting to leave. I’m not expecting them to ask me to go. I’m just... here. Part of things.”

“You’re part of me now.” I kiss her temple. “Which means you’re stuck with all of this.”

“I think I can handle it.”

“Even the poetry?”

“Especially the poetry.” She turns in my arms, facing me. “I expect regular verses. At least one per week about my various attributes.”

“Your various attributes could fill entire journals.”

“Then you’d better start writing.” She rises on her toes and kisses me—soft and sweet, in front of everyone, with zero concern for propriety.

Someone wolf-whistles. Probably Zeph.

We don’t stop.

The party winds down in the late afternoon. We slip out as the others are still talking, needing quiet after the noise, needing each other after the crowd.

The documents are still on my kitchen table where Grandmother Peach left them.

We sit down together.

The parchment is older than anything I’ve seen in the coven archives. Yellowed at the edges, the ink faded to a reddish brown in places, some sections in languages neither of us can read. But enough of it is legible. More than enough.

“The Severing.” I read the header aloud. “A record of the Great Separation, Year of the Broken Moon.”

Sakura leans in beside me. Her fingers trace the faded text without touching it.

“What was the Severing?” she asks, though she’s already reading, her expression going still and careful in the way it does when she’s absorbing something that matters.

We read in silence for a while. Then I turn the page.

The account is clinical in places—the language of record-keepers who wanted to preserve the fact of what was done without preserving the shame of it. But the facts themselves are plain enough.