Page 24 of Claws for Celebration (Hollow Oak Mates #3)

MOIRA

T he negotiation with Viktor had lasted exactly seventeen minutes before devolving into barely veiled threats.

Moira could still hear his silky voice promising protection, power, and immortality if she would simply "see reason" and join his coven voluntarily.

His pale eyes had grown cold when she'd declined, especially when Lucien's hand had found hers in a gesture of support that made their bond unmistakably clear.

"Your loyalty to these provincial protectors is admirable but misguided," Viktor had said, his cultured politeness unable to mask the hunger beneath. "When the ancient darkness rises, Miss Marsh, you'll discover that sentiment is a poor substitute for actual power."

Now, three hours after the vampires had departed with promises to "reconsider their generous offer," Moira found herself working alongside Elena, Cordelia, and two other local witches to reinforce the protective barriers that surrounded Hollow Oak.

The work felt natural in a way that surprised her, as if her blood magic had been designed specifically for this purpose.

"Remarkable," Elena murmured as she watched Moira weave golden threads of energy into the existing ward structure. "Your magic isn't just compatible with our defensive grid. It's enhancing everything it touches."

"Like the wards were waiting for her," added Margaret Thornwell, a middle-aged witch whose family had been maintaining portions of Hollow Oak's magical defenses for generations. "I've never seen integration this seamless."

Moira felt the truth of their observations in her bones.

Each protective spell she added to the town's barriers felt like coming home, like pieces of a cosmic puzzle clicking into place with satisfying precision.

The inherited knowledge that had been surfacing since her arrival now flowed with increasing clarity, showing her exactly where to place ward anchors and how to channel her power for maximum defensive effect.

"It's because my ancestors designed these barriers," she said, understanding dawning as she watched her magic blend effortlessly with protective spells that had been cast over a century ago.

"Seraphina and her sisters didn't just create the original wards.

They built them to be completed by future generations of Shadowheart witches. "

"A family legacy that spans centuries," Cordelia observed with approval. "No wonder your grandmother was able to maintain her connection to this place despite decades of exile. The magical bonds run too deep to ever truly break."

As the evening progressed and their group worked to strengthen key defensive points throughout Hollow Oak, Moira felt something she'd never experienced before: complete belonging.

The easy camaraderie of working alongside other witches, the way her magic was welcomed and valued rather than feared, the growing confidence that came from finally understanding her place in the world.

"How are you feeling?" Lucien asked when their group paused for coffee and Twyla's restorative cookies at the café. He'd been a constant presence throughout the evening, coordinating with patrol teams while staying close enough to provide magical stability when her power fluctuated.

"Like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be," Moira replied honestly, leaning into his solid warmth as they shared a quiet moment away from the others. "For the first time in my adult life, I feel like I fit somewhere perfectly."

"Good," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. "Because you do fit here. More than fit. You're becoming essential to this community's survival."

The praise made her chest warm with emotions. "Are you saying that as my mate or as a Council member?"

"Both," Lucien replied with the honesty she'd grown to treasure.

"The Council recognizes how crucial your abilities are becoming.

But I see how happy you are when you're working with your magic, how proud you look when the other witches praise your technique. That has nothing to do with supernatural politics, it’s about you finding your true calling. "

Their quiet conversation was interrupted by Elena's urgent voice from across the café. "Moira, you need to see this."

They approached the table where Elena had spread out several hand-drawn maps of the surrounding mountain region, each marked with symbols that indicated supernatural activity. Red marks clustered around Hollow Oak in patterns that made Moira's blood run cold.

"What am I looking at?" she asked.

"Magical disturbances detected over the past week," Margaret explained. "Each red mark represents a location where our perimeter sensors detected otherworldly energy signatures."

"They're forming a circle," Moira realized, studying the pattern with growing alarm. "A very large circle with Hollow Oak at the center."

"A summoning circle," Cordelia corrected grimly. "Someone is using our town as the focal point for a magical working that requires significant preparation time."

"The vampires?" Lucien asked, though his expression suggested he already suspected the answer was more complicated.

"Vampires don't work with summoning magic on this scale," Elena said. "This is something much older and much more powerful. Something that's been planning this convergence for a very long time."

As they studied the maps and discussed possible explanations for the supernatural activity, Moira felt an urgent pull from the direction of the bookstore.

The Shadowheart Codex was calling to her with increasing intensity, as if the ancient tome had critical information that couldn't wait for their ward-strengthening work to conclude.

"I need to check the grimoire," she said, gathering her jacket and bag. "Something's been bothering me about the timing of everything. My arrival, the vampire interest, the failing protective barriers, all of it feels too coordinated to be coincidence."

"Want company?" Lucien asked, already rising from his chair.

"Actually, let me look at it alone first. The grimoire responds better when I'm not distracted by other people's magical signatures." She touched his hand briefly, drawing comfort from the contact. "But stay close? I have a feeling whatever it shows me isn't going to be pleasant."

The walk back to the bookstore took her through Hollow Oak's quiet downtown streets, past shop windows that glowed with warm light and residential buildings where families were settling in for the evening.

The normalcy of the scene felt precious in a way it hadn't before, like something that needed to be protected at all costs.

Inside the bookstore, Moira approached the Shadowheart Codex with reverent care. The ancient tome practically hummed with urgency, its leather binding warm to the touch as she opened it to find pages covered with text that hadn't been there that morning.

The Convergence Approaches

"Convergence," she whispered, settling into her usual chair as elegant script continued appearing across the parchment. "What kind of convergence?"

Every seven centuries, the barriers between realms grow thin.

Ancient entities that were banished to shadow dimensions probe for weaknesses, seeking ways to return to the mortal world.

The last Convergence brought the evil that Seraphina sacrificed herself to bind. The next begins at the autumn equinox.

Moira's hands began to shake as she calculated dates in her head. "That's less than two weeks away."

The awakening of Shadowheart blood magic is not coincidence but necessity. The granddaughter's power must be fully developed before the Convergence peaks, for she alone carries the magical signature needed to either strengthen Seraphina's bindings or witness their complete failure.

"Witness their failure," she repeated, dread settling in her stomach like a cold stone. "You're saying that if I'm not strong enough, if I can't master my abilities in time, the ancient evil breaks free during this Convergence."

Not just the evil that threatens Hollow Oak. All of them. Every entity banished during the last seven centuries of supernatural conflicts. They will pour through the weakened barriers like water through a broken dam, and the mortal world will face horrors it is utterly unprepared to survive.

The magnitude of what the grimoire was revealing made Moira's vision blur with overwhelming terror. This wasn't just about protecting one small mountain town. This was about preventing a supernatural apocalypse that would affect the entire planet.

The Shadowheart bloodline was created for this purpose. To stand guard at the moment when ancient darkness seeks to reclaim the world. The granddaughter must choose: embrace her full heritage and face the Convergence as her ancestors intended, or watch everything burn in supernatural fire.

"No pressure at all," Moira whispered, but the grimoire wasn't finished with its revelations.

Beware those who would claim to offer protection.

The vampire seeks not just a powerful witch but a weapon he can wield during the Convergence.

The mate bond provides strength, but only if both parties accept their destiny willingly.

Half-measures and hesitation will result in failure catastrophic beyond mortal comprehension.

As the implications of the grimoire's warnings crashed over her, Moira felt something shift in the magical atmosphere around the bookstore.

The protective barriers she'd woven earlier flickered and strengthened, responding to her emotional state with increasing intensity.

But underneath the familiar golden warmth of her own magic, she sensed something else.

Her body suddenly grew goosebumps as if in a warning.

Something vast and hungry and utterly malevolent, pressing against the barriers between dimensions with patient determination.

Something that had been waiting seven centuries for this moment, for the chance to break free and reclaim a world it had once tried to devour.

But it didn’t feel as if her strength was making it weaker, but stronger.

She had taken what the Codex said as truth and aide, but what if it wasn’t a guide to finding herself, but feeding what had been locked away?