Page 9

CORA

C ora stood by the window of her room at the Hearth cottages puffed smoke from their chimneys like gentle snores, and lanterns glowed softly along cobblestone streets.

Moonmirror Lake shimmered faintly through the trees, calm and serene as though nothing strange had happened earlier.

But inside, she couldn’t shake the chill that had seeped bone-deep, whispering reminders she wanted desperately to ignore. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass and closed her eyes.

Elric.

His name rose from memory like a shadow crawling up her spine. Cora hadn’t spoken it aloud in months, hadn’t dared to let it slip through her thoughts, but tonight she couldn’t shove it away.

He’d been her mistake—the kind that changed the shape of your life forever.

At first, he'd been everything she'd thought she wanted: handsome, charismatic, powerful. But beneath that charm had lain something dark and hungry. He was a warlock who wielded magic like a knife, precise and ruthless. She’d been young, naive enough to think she’d found a mentor.

A guide. Someone who understood her tangled fae magic.

And gods, had he understood it. Too well.

She still remembered the night he'd bound her. They’d stood in his private chamber, the air thick with incense and the scent of burnt herbs, candles flickering as he drew symbols on her palms. She’d trusted him. Thought he would help anchor her unpredictable powers.

But the moment her blood hit the sigil, the pain had flared sharp and hot. The spell had sunk into her veins, twisted around her heart like barbed wire. His voice had whispered in her ear, velvet-lined poison, “Now you belong to me, Cora Thorne. Always.”

She shivered, feeling the phantom trace of his fingertip along her jaw.

Even after she’d run, after she'd cut and burned and counter-spelled her skin raw, his claim still lingered.

She could feel it sometimes, an ache, subtle but ever-present, a reminder that magic once tied could never be truly undone.

That’s why things kept going wrong. It had to be. Why her spells misfired. Why enchantments cracked and wards turned chaotic. Her blood remembered the binding, rejected freedom as if it were poison. Maybe she wasn’t cursed—maybe she was the curse.

A gentle knock at the door startled her upright, heart kicking hard.

“Cora, dear? I brought tea.”

Miriam. The human innkeeper's voice was soft as worn wool and warm as fresh bread. Cora forced herself to steady her breathing before answering. “Come in.”

Miriam stepped inside carrying a tray, steam drifting from two ceramic mugs. Her silver hair caught the dim lamplight, framing her kind, lined face in a soft glow.

“You looked troubled earlier,” Miriam said gently. She set the tray on a small table beside the bed, poured tea that smelled like lavender and honey, and handed a mug to Cora. “Thought you might want company.”

Cora wrapped her fingers around the mug, warmth sinking into her palms. “Thank you. It's just been a long day.”

Miriam sat at the end of the bed, smoothing her skirt over her knees. Her eyes were sharp, though her voice remained gentle. “Did the Council unsettle you?”

“A little,” Cora admitted softly. “But not as much as my own memories.”

Miriam nodded slowly, sipping her tea. “The past has sharp edges. Especially when it keeps whispering.”

Cora looked up, startled. “How did you?—?”

“Call it intuition,” Miriam said with a slight shrug. “Or maybe just old eyes seeing familiar shadows. Something binds you, child. Something dark enough that you don’t believe it can be undone.”

Cora stared into her cup. She never spoke of what happened, but Miriam seemed wise enough for the whole town. And safe.

“Blood magic. A warlock named Elric. He bound me with it. I ran, but…” She hesitated, her throat closing on the confession. “I think I carry it still. Like an infection.”

Miriam reached out, gently squeezing Cora’s hand. “Magic born from fear and control is the hardest kind to shake. But not impossible. I’ve seen love and patience heal worse.”

Cora’s lips twitched faintly. “I’m not sure love is on my side, Miriam. Not the way I leave wreckage behind.”

Miriam chuckled softly. “Have you looked around lately? This town loves a bit of chaos, even if they have a strict hand about it. Twyla Honeytree regularly explodes scones in her oven, and Edgar Tansley accidentally magicked his ferret invisible for a week. Imperfection has a home here, Cora.”

Cora smiled despite herself. “It’s more than imperfection. It’s instability. Danger.”

“Then ground it in something steady. Trust yourself first, the rest will follow.” Miriam hesitated, her eyes sparkling knowingly. “Perhaps trust that ranger of ours. He’s more solid than he likes to admit.”

Cora’s cheeks warmed. “Callum is... complicated.”

“Only as complicated as you make him,” Miriam replied lightly, standing and taking the empty mugs. “He doesn’t give his trust lightly. And he’s offered it to you.”

“He barely tolerates me,” Cora protested weakly.

“Child, that man is territorial to the bone. If he tolerates you, it means he’s already let you past his gates.” Miriam smiled, heading toward the door. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow always arrives whether we’re ready or not.”

When Miriam closed the door softly behind her, Cora stood a moment in the quiet, eyes drifting back out the window. She splayed a hand across her chest, where her heartbeat fluttered like a trapped bird.

Maybe Miriam was right. Maybe Callum, with his steady presence and guarded eyes that flashed amber like storm clouds pierced by sunlight, was exactly what she needed. Someone solid enough to hold her chaos, strong enough to anchor the storm that roared beneath her skin.

She climbed into bed, sinking into blankets scented like lavender and cedar, and closed her eyes.

But sleep didn’t come easily. Instead, her mind filled with images of Callum’s steady hand reaching out to catch her earlier, his rough voice rumbling low and protective, and the way his eyes softened just enough when no one else was looking.

She turned onto her side, sighing softly. Her chest felt less empty, like something small and hopeful had rooted in the soil of her heart and she wasn’t sure if that made her more relaxed or more anxious.

Maybe she didn’t have to fight her past alone. Maybe Hollow Oak was exactly where she was meant to be found.