Page 26 of Claws for Celebration (Hollow Oak Mates #3)
MOIRA
T he silence after Lucien's departure felt like a physical wound, raw and bleeding in the center of her chest. Moira sat alone in the bookstore, surrounded by the protective barriers that now felt more like a prison than a sanctuary, staring at the Shadowheart Codex that had just revealed itself as her enemy rather than her guide.
"Eleven days," she whispered to the empty room, her voice echoing off shelves that had witnessed the most beautiful moments of her magical awakening. "Eleven days until I accidentally destroy the world."
She understood Lucien’s logic. If the grimoire had been manipulating their mate bond to accelerate her magical development, then separating made tactical sense. But understanding didn't make the abandonment hurt any less, especially when she needed his steady presence more than ever.
As emotional turmoil crashed through her, Moira felt her magic respond with chaotic surges that made the bookstore's lights flicker and the protective barriers pulse erratically.
Without Lucien's stabilizing influence, the power that had felt so natural and controlled now writhed through her veins like something alive and angry.
"Get it together," she told herself firmly, trying to center her breathing the way Cordelia had taught her. "Emotional stability equals magical stability. You can do this."
But even as she attempted the grounding techniques the local witches had shown her, Moira felt her magic pushing against her conscious control. The golden threads that usually danced obediently around her fingers now sparked and crackled with wild energy that seemed to have its own agenda.
The grimoire's pages rustled softly, drawing her attention back to text that continued appearing despite her efforts to ignore it.
The separation brings pain, but pain can be transformed into power. The bloodline magic grows stronger when channeled through intense emotion. Do not fight the awakening, daughter of shadows. Embrace what you were born to become.
"Stop," she said aloud, slamming the ancient tome closed. "I'm not listening to you anymore."
But closing the book didn't silence the whispers that had begun echoing in her mind, seductive voices that promised relief from the emotional agony of Lucien's withdrawal if she would just let her magic flow freely.
The mate bond was a tool, nothing more. You are complete without him. You are powerful beyond his comprehension. Why limit yourself for the sake of his fear?
"Because his fear is keeping the world safe," Moira replied through gritted teeth, though the words felt hollow in the face of her overwhelming sense of loss.
A knock at the bookstore's front door made her look up to see Twyla's concerned face pressed against the glass. The café owner's hair was disheveled, and her usually cheerful expression showed genuine worry as she gestured urgently for Moira to let her in.
"Thank God you're here," Moira said, unlocking the door and immediately feeling some of her isolation ease at the sight of a friendly face. "I don't know what to do."
"Honey, half the town's magical protections just flickered like a bad lightbulb," Twyla said, stepping inside and immediately wrapping Moira in a maternal hug that smelled of cinnamon and comfort. "Whatever's happening with your magic, it's affecting everything connected to the defensive grid."
"Lucien left," Moira said simply, the words carrying more weight than any detailed explanation could have managed.
"Left how? Left for patrol duty, or left left?" Twyla's tone suggested she already suspected the answer.
"Left left. We discovered that the grimoire has been manipulating my magical development to prepare me for something terrible. He thinks our mate bond is accelerating my power toward a catastrophic threshold, so he's removing himself from the equation."
"And how's that working out for your magical stability?"
As if in response to the question, a surge of uncontrolled power rippled through the bookstore, making every book on the shelves glow with faint golden light before the energy dissipated into harmless sparkles.
"About as well as you'd expect," Moira said weakly.
Twyla guided her to a chair and settled beside her with the practiced efficiency of someone accustomed to magical crises. "Tell me what the grimoire showed you. All of it."
Moira explained the cryptic revelations about prisoners and keys, about Seraphina's binding being temporary rather than permanent, about the countdown to a convergence that would either free ancient evil or destroy her in the attempt to prevent it.
"And Lucien thinks that staying away from you will slow down your magical development enough to prevent disaster?" Twyla asked when the explanation was complete.
"That's the theory. Remove the emotional intensity that's been amplifying my abilities, hope that my power stays below whatever threshold the grimoire needs to complete its plan."
"Honey, that's the dumbest thing I've heard since Edgar tried to convince me that enchanted beer was a legitimate business venture.
" Twyla's blunt assessment carried the authority of someone who'd dealt with supernatural politics for decades.
"Your magic isn't just tied to your mate bond.
It's tied to your emotional state, period.
Heartbreak and isolation aren't going to make you less powerful. They're going to make you less stable."
Even as Twyla spoke, another wave of chaotic energy pulsed through the room, this time strong enough to rattle the windows and make several ancient volumes fall from their shelves.
"See what I mean?" Twyla continued. "You need emotional anchoring, not emotional devastation. The mate bond wasn't just amplifying your power. It was helping you control it."
"But what if the grimoire is right? What if our connection is what pushes me over the edge into apocalyptic territory?"
"Then we find another way to manage your abilities that doesn't involve abandoning you when you need support most." Twyla's voice carried fierce determination.
"Magic responds to intention as much as emotion.
If your conscious goal is preventing disaster, that intention should influence how your power manifests. "
The grimoire's pages fluttered open despite Moira's efforts to keep it closed, revealing new text that made her stomach clench with dread.
The awakening cannot be stopped by separation or intention. The bloodline magic has already passed the point of no return. In nine days, when the moon reaches its apex, the ritual will complete itself whether the granddaughter participates willingly or not.
"Nine days?" Moira said, noting that the timeline had shortened. "It was eleven days this morning."
Each moment of emotional turmoil accelerates the process. The pain of abandonment feeds the magic just as surely as the joy of connection once did. There is no path that leads away from destiny.
"This thing is really starting to get on my nerves," Twyla said, studying the text with obvious irritation. "Moira, close your eyes and listen to me."
"What?"
"Just do it. Close your eyes and focus on my voice instead of whatever nonsense that book is spouting."
Moira obeyed, grateful for any distraction from the grimoire's relentless psychological pressure.
"Your magic isn't evil," Twyla said firmly. "It's not corrupted or doomed or destined for destruction. It's yours, and you get to decide how to use it. That book has been lying to you since day one, and it's still lying now."
"But what if it's not lying about the consequences? What if I really am the key to freeing something that could destroy the world?"
"Then we make sure you're strong enough and smart enough to choose a different lock to open.
" Twyla's hand found hers, warm and steady in a way that reminded Moira of Lucien's comforting presence.
"Honey, you've got an entire community of magical practitioners who want to help you figure this out. You don't have to face this alone."
But even as Twyla spoke words of encouragement, Moira felt the grimoire's influence pressing against her consciousness like a persistent headache.
The whispers that had started as background noise were becoming louder, more insistent, promising power and purpose if she would just stop fighting her destiny.
The community will abandon you when they understand the threat you represent. The mate has already fled. How long before the others follow? Accept what you are, daughter of shadows. Embrace the power that is your birthright.
"I can hear it," Moira said, opening her eyes to meet Twyla's concerned gaze. "The grimoire. It's not just showing me text anymore. It's speaking directly into my mind."
"That's not good," Twyla said grimly. "Mental compulsion means the magical connection between you and that book has strengthened beyond normal artifact interaction."
"What does that mean?"
"It means we need help, and we need it fast." Twyla stood, already reaching for her phone.
"I'm calling an emergency gathering of every magical practitioner in Hollow Oak.
If this grimoire thinks it can psychologically manipulate one of our own, it's about to learn what happens when you mess with a united supernatural community. "
As Twyla began making urgent phone calls and Moira struggled against the increasingly intrusive mental whispers from the Shadowheart Codex, she found herself hoping that Lucien's tactical withdrawal wouldn't prevent him from answering the call for help.
Because facing an ancient evil that had been planning her corruption for three centuries was bad enough.
Facing it alone, without the mate bond that had given her strength and stability, felt like a battle she was destined to lose.
The grimoire's whispers grew louder, more seductive, promising that surrender would end the pain of isolation and transform her anguish into unlimited power.
And despite her conscious resistance, part of Moira was beginning to wonder if giving in might be easier than continuing to fight forces that seemed determined to destroy everything she'd grown to love.