Page 11

CORA

“ Y ou’re sure about this? I only offered because I thought it would make life easier, but you don’t have to say yes,” Miriam asked, hands on her hips as she gazed around the little cottage.

It was nestled near the edge of the woods along the same winding trail Callum walked every day.

Miriam’s silver hair caught the sunlight pouring in through the open shutters, her gentle face concerned but warm as always.

Cora spun around slowly, taking in the small space with delighted eyes.

Wooden beams arched gently overhead, sturdy and welcoming, while worn floorboards creaked companionably beneath her sandals.

The scent of cedar hung faintly in the air, blending sweetly with the lilacs drifting from outside.

She inhaled deeply, heart lifting in a way it hadn’t for so long. Gods, it felt good to breathe again.

“It’s perfect,” she declared, grinning wide. Her fingers traced the intricate carvings framing the front window—tiny oak leaves intertwined with vines, so detailed they might burst into bloom if she whispered just the right words.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it perfect,” a familiar deep voice rumbled from the doorway.

Cora turned sharply, pulse jumping. Callum leaned against the doorframe, broad shoulders blocking most of the view outside.

His arms were folded, biceps straining against the fabric of his worn work shirt, and his intense blue eyes narrowed in clear disapproval.

She ignored the sudden flutter in her chest, tilting her chin defiantly instead.

“Luckily, it’s not your opinion that matters right now,” she quipped lightly.

He grunted softly, eyebrows knitting closer. “You’re gonna be out here alone, right on the trail?”

Miriam stepped forward, lightly patting his arm. “She won’t be alone. You pass here multiple times every day, Callum. I figured if she’s gotta be supervised, this makes it easier for everyone.”

Callum’s gaze shifted sharply to Miriam. “I don’t need easy. I need safe.”

Cora rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, please. The worst thing that could happen is me tripping over a flowerbed. I’m pretty sure the flowers like me here.”

His jaw tightened, and he shook his head, stepping back from Miriam’s touch. “This isn’t a joke, Cora.”

“I never said it was.” She softened slightly, voice gentle. “But I need space, Callum. And I think maybe you do too. Miriam’s right—this is practical.”

Miriam smiled knowingly. “Settled, then. The cottage is yours as long as you’d like. And if a certain lion gets overly grumbly, tell him he can answer to me.”

Callum’s scowl deepened, but he said nothing, clearly choosing battles more carefully when the older woman was around. Miriam chuckled softly, squeezed Cora’s hand reassuringly, and headed down the path back to the inn, leaving them alone in the sunlit doorway.

Callum lingered a moment longer, silent but watchful, before turning to go. “Don’t do anything reckless,” he growled softly, striding away without waiting for a response.

“Goodbye to you too, sunshine,” she muttered under her breath, watching his broad shoulders disappear down the trail.

She shut the door firmly, turning to face her new home with determination.

It was small—just one main room with a hearth, a nook for sleeping, and a quaint kitchenette.

Shelves lined the walls, already filled with jars of herbs Miriam must’ve placed, their labels curling in tidy script.

Pots of violets and rosemary sat cheerfully in the windowsills.

Cora drew a deep breath, magic tingling in her fingertips.

This was her space, her chance to carve out peace in Hollow Oak.

She needed this—not just the cottage, but the quiet it promised, the chance to remember who she’d been before Elric’s darkness had sunk claws into her soul.

She needed to prove she could belong here, that she wasn’t just a cursed fae bringing trouble.

She rubbed her palms together lightly, whispering softly, “Right. Let’s make this feel like home.”

Closing her eyes, she let her enchantment flow—soft, gentle tendrils of fae magic weaving through the room. It was simple enough: peace, comfort, a little warmth. Harmless.

Mostly harmless, anyway.

A rustling sound made her eyes snap open. A broom leaning against the hearth shivered to life, swaying uncertainly on its bristles. Cora eyed it warily.

“You’re just supposed to help tidy,” she warned quietly. “Don’t get ideas.”

The broom twitched innocently. She sighed, smiling faintly. “Behave.”

But as the afternoon passed and she arranged cushions and brewed tea, she noticed the broom growing increasingly… friendly. It swept near her feet, nudging her ankles playfully, humming with a suspiciously flirtatious energy. Cora narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, no,” she muttered. “I enchanted a flirt.”

A sharp knock at the door startled her. She opened it quickly, heart jumping when she saw Callum standing there again, expression thunderous. “Everything alright in here?”

“Perfectly,” she said brightly, smiling with exaggerated innocence. “Just unpacking.”

He eyed her suspiciously, but stepped inside cautiously. Immediately, the broom perked up, swishing toward him with alarming enthusiasm. It swept around his boots, brushing gently, practically purring.

Callum stared down incredulously. “What the hell?”

Cora winced. “Minor enchantment hiccup.”

He growled softly, stepping back. The broom followed, relentless in its attentions. “Minor?”

“Okay, it’s a bit friendly,” she admitted sheepishly. “It wasn’t intentional.”

“You enchanted your broom to flirt with me?” His voice dripped disbelief and irritation.

“It’s supposed to clean!” she insisted, trying not to laugh at the sheer absurdity. “I swear!”

The broom nudged insistently at Callum’s calves, brushing dirt from his boots with affectionate vigor. His jaw ticked tightly, eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Fix it.”

“Right, right,” she said hastily, holding back a giggle. “Sorry.”

She knelt quickly, fingertips brushing the broom handle as she murmured softly, coaxing the magic into submission. It settled reluctantly, swishing once more at Callum’s boots before going still, leaning innocently against the hearth again.

He glared down at it suspiciously. “I’m watching you.”

“See?” Cora smiled hopefully. “No harm done.”

He snorted softly, turning back toward the door. “Keep your magic on a tighter leash.”

“Yes, Ranger,” she drawled lightly. “Anything else?”

He paused at the threshold, glancing back, expression unreadable. “Just… don’t make me regret agreeing to this.”

The door closed behind him firmly. Cora sighed softly, leaning back against the sturdy wooden frame, heart pounding unevenly. She couldn’t quite read him—did he like her even a little? Or was it all begrudging tolerance, duty-bound supervision?

She shook her head, stubborn optimism surfacing despite the uncertainty. This felt good, she reminded herself firmly. Like before Elric, before fear had twisted around her magic. Here, she felt lighter. Hopeful. A little reckless, perhaps—but alive, and it was dangerously addicting.

She pushed away from the door, smiling faintly as she glanced around the cozy cottage. The space felt welcoming, imperfectly hers—quirky broom and all. She’d make this work. She’d prove she could belong here, find peace again, and earn Hollow Oak’s trust.

Even if the town’s grumpy lion guardian took a little more convincing.