Ronan

Chapter Forty-Eight

Rosa held her breath as they portal jumped to Triumph. She was praying that Elowyn was right—that now Ronan was giving up his wars and dark magic, his soul was healing itself. And surely Triumph would know if he planned on sticking to his word. Could everything finally be working itself out?

A breeze tickled her skin. And then—are those birds chirping?

In all the times she'd been to Triumph, she'd never once seen anything living. Besides that singular rose blooming, there'd been nothing.

Slowly, fearfully, she opened her eyes.

"No fucking way."

Life sprang out at her from every direction she looked at. Luscious grass grew beneath their feet, accompanied by tall draping willow trees and wild flowers. For the first time ever, the sun shone down on Triumph, wind brushing through a meadow.

She whipped around to an equally stunned warlock.

"Did you know this was going to happen?"

"I had no idea."

"Your soul has been restored!" At least now they knew what that part of the prophecy meant. Triumph was bristling with vitality. "This place is—Oh my Gods. This is the coolest thing ever. Is that running water?"

A stream coursed several paces away, feeding into a lake. Two swans swam by at the centre of it as if it were the most normal thing in the world. As if they'd been here all along. She bolted for that stream, eager to get a look at the other side.

Ronan huffed, calling, "Don't run off until we know—"

"Are you coming, sad sack?"

She twirled, mocking his run.

"You're going to be the death of me."

She'd never seen anything like it. Tiny blue creatures floated around the lake—pixies!

She watched, wide-eyed, as a group of mushrooms jumped from one stepping stone to the next.

"Did Triumph look like this before you started using dark magic?" She asked, eyeing up the doll like creatures that bobbed along through the water, with their pointed ears and mystical markings. "And if you're technically wiccan in roots, why do you have a whole realm to yourself? And why do you—"

"Take a breath Rosie," He advised, finally catching up to her. "You want me to answer your questions? Throw me one question at a time."

"Why do you and your brother have a realm to yourself?"

He lowered himself to the base of a tree, resting between its bulging roots. "Come sit with me?" She dropped to the ground beside him, no questions asked. "My Mother was born a witch, as you know. My siblings and I all have that gene running through us, but with different extents."

"What's your Mum's field?" She asked, running her fingers through the grass. "Something to do with the future, right?"

"It dips into the future every now and then. Her power is planetary."

"Like... planets?"

"Yes, so it's often not particularly helpful. But sometimes, with the right planetary positioning, she can summon the power for visions. She's a skilled potion maker, drawing upon the power of the moon for the essence of her spells. In fact, centuries ago, she made the potion that diminishes the power of a werewolf on a full moon."

She'd heard Chronos speak of that potion from time to time. She'd once made a profit selling it in Morio's.

"So it's that heritage that lets you access magic."