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CALLUM

C allum had never been one for ceremony. He didn’t like attention, didn’t care for speeches or fuss. But when he stood at the center of the glade beneath Hollow Oak’s silver-lit trees, Cora’s hand in his, even he had to admit—it was damn near perfect.

The moon was full and high, casting soft light over the mossy clearing like a blessing.

The Veil shimmered faintly in the background, more visible than usual tonight, a gossamer ripple across the trees.

Magic pulsed through the woods, quiet and calm, as though the land itself had decided to hold its breath and watch.

Callum glanced at the faces circling them—familiar, weathered, smiling.

Maeve leaned against the base of an old maple, arms crossed but eyes suspiciously bright.

Miriam stood in the front row, her hands clasped over her heart.

Twyla sniffled behind a handkerchief she’d half-heartedly claimed was only for allergies, while Edgar fussed with the ceremonial thread of his robe with damp eyes.

The entire damn town had shown up. Even the cranky elders who only left their cottages for winter firewood stood to bear witness. It was strange and humbling, standing there as not just a ranger or Veil guardian, but as a man who’d chosen to share everything with the woman beside him.

Cora.

She stood barefoot in soft green, the same color as the dress she’d worn the first night he realized he couldn’t look away from her.

Pale lilac blossoms had been tucked behind her ears, and her golden hair was braided in loose strands threaded with slivers of forest herbs—moonmint and rosemary, if he had to guess.

The sight of her stole every thought from his head.

She caught him staring and squeezed his hand. “You’re thinking too loud.”

He smirked. “I was thinking I might kiss you before the officiant’s done talking.”

“I dare you.”

He leaned in slightly, voice low. “That’s a dangerous thing to say to a lion.”

Before she could answer, Varric stepped forward, wolf-carved staff in hand, his eyes gleaming with something deeper than solemnity. Maybe pride. Maybe a touch of awe.

“We stand tonight,” Varric said, voice echoing softly through the glade, “at the center of the woods, at the heart of the Veil. And it stands with us.”

The Veil pulsed behind them, a subtle ripple of silver against the black of the tree line.

“Not all love is loud,” Varric went on, glancing at Callum. “Some is steady. Relentless. Some grows between storms and thrives in the quiet after.” Then he looked at Cora, his expression softening. “And some love is wild magic—raw, fierce, unafraid. Tonight we honor both.”

The ceremony was simple by design. No runes etched into the ground, no lavish enchantments.

Just a single pine bough, wrapped with silver thread, passed between them and tied at the wrist. It was a symbolic knot meant to fall away once vows were spoken, but Callum had carved it himself that morning from a fallen branch, whittling until it felt right in his palm. Until it felt like them.

Varric nodded. “Speak your truth.”

Cora turned toward him, eyes shining. “I came here running from everything I thought I was. And I found someone who saw me anyway. You don’t just protect this town, Callum Cross—you protect hearts without asking for thanks.

You love hard, even when it scares you. I’ve never felt safer than I do when I’m with you. I choose you. Every day.”

His voice cracked but held. “I spent years thinking I’d already used up every part of myself worth offering.

Then you walked into my forest. And you saw me.

You remind me why I fight. You gave me back the part of me that I buried so deep, I thought it was gone for good.

You’re not just my mate, Cora. You’re my heart. ”

His hands tightened around hers as he saw her eyes begin to glisten.

Varric stepped back and nodded once. “You may seal your bond.”

Callum didn’t wait. He leaned in and kissed her like the whole world stopped spinning.

The glade exploded with light.

The Veil rippled behind them, bright and sudden, humming a low, resonant sound that rolled across the trees.

The forest stilled. Even the wind paused.

Then a pulse of silver shot outward from where their joined hands met, curling up through the branches, dancing along moss and bark.

The energy surged but didn’t burn, it settled. Anchored.

Their bond had joined the Veil.

A new thread added to the tapestry of Hollow Oak’s protection—woven not from blood or war, but from choice. From love. From survival.

Callum pulled back, just enough to breathe against her lips. “Didn’t mean to outshine the ceremony.”

Cora laughed, eyes wet. “I think we just rewrote the damn forest.”

Twyla whooped. Maeve wiped under one eye and muttered something about pollen. Even Edgar dropped his herbs in surprise.

They untied the pine bough together, fingers lingering. Callum kept her hand in his as they turned toward the town. The path home lit itself softly under the moon’s glow, fireflies rising like sparks.

People surrounded them with laughter, hugs, warmth. But even in the crowd, her hand stayed tucked in his, like they were tethered.

Later, when the fires dimmed and the guests drifted home, he pulled her into his side as they walked the trail back toward the cabin.

She leaned into him, her voice a soft murmur. “You really made me part of this place.”

He kissed her temple. “You were always part of it. You just finally found it.”

And under the moonlight, with the Veil at their backs and the town finally whole, they stepped into the life they’d built together. Rooted. Chosen. And finally, home.