Page 35 of Claws for Celebration (Hollow Oak Mates #3)
LUCIEN
T he emergency Council meeting that night felt different from any Lucien had attended during his fifteen years of service.
Where previous gatherings had focused on containing local threats or managing supernatural politics, tonight they were planning for an operation that could either save the world or trigger its destruction through dimensional magic gone wrong.
"We need a defensive perimeter that can withstand dimensional instability," he explained to the assembled alphas and Council members who'd answered Varric's urgent summons.
"If the banishment ritual creates magical feedback, we don't want it spreading beyond the binding site to affect the entire forest."
Callum studied the hand-drawn map spread across the ancient stone table, his lion's territorial instincts evident in the way he analyzed sight lines and approach routes.
"How large an area are we talking about?
The guardians can hold a quarter-mile perimeter, but if we need more coverage, I'll have to call in additional shifters from the neighboring territories. "
"Better to overestimate than find ourselves understaffed," Elder Varric said grimly.
"Miss Marsh's power amplified through the mate bond could create effects we haven't anticipated.
I've reached out to the Cherokee Nation's supernatural council and the Appalachian Fae Collective. They're sending representatives."
"And the vampire situation?" Maeve asked from her position near the edge of the clearing. "Viktor's coven is still in the area. They might see the ritual as an opportunity to make another grab for Moira."
"Which is why we need overwhelming force," Lucien replied, his panther pacing restlessly at the thought of his mate facing danger from multiple directions. "Enough supernatural backup that any hostile force would be insane to make a move."
"Speaking of backup," Emmett interjected, "what's the plan if the ritual goes wrong? If Miss Marsh loses control during the dimensional working, what's our contingency?"
The question forced him to confront possibilities he'd been trying not to think about.
Moira's power channeled through their mate bond was unprecedented in scope.
If something went wrong during the banishment attempt, the magical backlash could consume not just her but everyone connected to the working.
"We don't have a contingency plan," he admitted with brutal honesty. "If the dimensional breach destabilizes, if the entity breaks free instead of being banished, if Moira's power overwhelms our bond's ability to contain it, then we're all probably dead anyway."
"Cheerful," Miriam observed dryly. "But realistic, I suppose. Sometimes the only choice is between certain disaster and probable disaster."
"The Cherokee shamans are bringing ward anchors blessed by mountain spirits," Varric continued. "The Fae Collective is contributing dimensional stabilizers. Between their resources and our local talent, we should be able to contain most forms of magical catastrophe."
"Most forms," Callum repeated. "What about the forms we can't contain?"
"Then we trust in the mate bond that's already proven capable of stabilizing Miss Marsh's abilities," Varric said with more confidence than Lucien felt. "The historical precedents suggest that properly channeled blood magic can achieve impossible things when supported by supernatural partnership."
As the meeting continued and they refined details of defensive positioning and emergency protocols, Lucien found his attention split between tactical planning and the constant awareness of Moira's emotional state through their bond.
She was back at the rebuilt bookstore with Twyla and Elena, continuing magical practice while he coordinated their protection, but he could feel her underlying anxiety about the approaching ritual.
"You're distracted," Callum observed during a brief break in the proceedings. "Understandable, given what's at stake, but you need to focus on the planning phase. Save the emotional processing for later."
"I can feel her fear through the mate bond," Lucien admitted quietly. "Not of the ritual itself, but of what failure would cost everyone who's depending on her success. She's carrying the weight of the entire supernatural world on her shoulders."
"And you're carrying the weight of watching someone you love face impossible odds," Callum replied with the understanding of someone who'd mated early and learned to balance protective instincts with respect for his partner's autonomy.
"The trick is remembering that supporting her choices isn't the same as agreeing with them. "
"She has to do this herself," Lucien said, as much to convince himself as to state facts. "The blood magic binding responds to Marsh lineage. I can anchor her power, but I can't perform the actual banishment."
"Which terrifies your panther because it means watching your mate face mortal danger without being able to take direct action to protect her."
"Exactly." Lucien ran his hands through his shoulder-length black hair, frustrated by instincts that demanded he lock Moira somewhere safe until the crisis passed. "Every protective instinct I possess is screaming at me to find another solution, but logic says this is our only viable option."
"Then trust in the bond that's already saved her from magical consumption," Callum suggested. "Trust in her strength, and in your ability to anchor her through whatever comes next."
When the meeting finally concluded near midnight, Lucien made his way back to the bookstore to find Moira curled up in the reading chair with the Shadowheart Codex open in her lap.
The ancient tome showed no text, just blank pages that somehow felt more ominous than its usual manipulative revelations.
"How did the planning go?" she asked, looking up with brown eyes that held exhaustion mixed with determination.
"As well as can be expected when preparing for something that's never been attempted before," he replied, settling on the arm of her chair so he could wrap protective arms around her shoulders.
"Callum's bringing a full pack. The Cherokee shamans and Appalachian Fae are sending specialists.
We'll have more supernatural backup than any ritual in recorded history. "
"And if backup isn't enough?"
"Then we trust in each other," Lucien said simply, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "The same way we've trusted each other through every impossible thing that's happened since you arrived in Hollow Oak."
"Tomorrow we visit the binding site," Moira said, leaning into his embrace with a sigh that carried the weight of inherited responsibility. "See where Seraphina made her sacrifice, understand what we'll actually be attempting."
"Are you ready for that?"
"I don't think anyone can be ready to visit the place where their ancestor died performing blood magic," she replied honestly. "But I need to see it. Need to understand what she was thinking when she made the choice to bind something that powerful instead of trying to destroy it outright."
"Maybe she knew that destruction would just scatter the entity's essence, allowing it to reform elsewhere," Lucien suggested. "Binding it to a specific location might have been the only way to ensure it could be dealt with permanently by future generations."
"Future generations like me," Moira said with a rueful smile. "Lucky me, getting to be the descendant who either completes her work or watches it all fall apart."
As they prepared for bed in his apartment behind the bookstore, Lucien found himself cataloging every detail of their domestic routine with the desperate intensity of someone who knew it might not last much longer.
The way Moira hummed softly while brushing her teeth, the graceful efficiency with which she braided her mahogany curls, the trusting way she curled against his chest once they were beneath the covers.
"Lucien," she said quietly in the darkness. "If something goes wrong during the ritual, if the dimensional magic overwhelms our bond, I need you to know that these past weeks have been the happiest of my entire life."
"Nothing's going wrong," he replied fiercely, his arms tightening around her as his panther roared silent protest against even considering such possibilities.
"We're going to banish this entity, save the world, and spend the next fifty years arguing about whose turn it is to make coffee in the morning. "
"Fifty years," she repeated with wonder. "That sounds perfect."
"Only fifty? I was hoping for at least a century of domestic bliss."
Her soft laughter vibrated against his chest, and for a moment, the weight of approaching danger lifted enough to let them simply be two people in love planning a future together.
But as sleep finally claimed them both, Lucien's last conscious thought was a prayer to whatever forces governed the supernatural world: let their love be strong enough to anchor them through dimensional magic, let their bond prove capable of channeling power that could tear reality itself apart, and let them both survive to build the life they'd only just begun to imagine.
Because losing Moira now, when they'd finally found each other, would be a tragedy that made ancient evil seem like a minor inconvenience in comparison.