Lunaria (A Soulmark Series Finale), page 44
I catch her watching the excited clamber on more than one occasion. It is when her eyes begin to drift shut that I push my way through the small crowd to kneel at her side.
“Aunt Mo?”
She smiles, eyes still closed. “Oh, come now, call me, Maureen.”
“We’re going to take you back home now to rest. Our council of elders will need to be informed of your presence and about our decision to lay you to rest in the Serenity Field.” A heady breeze tilts the high grass and flutters through her pale hair. A happy sigh leaves her lips. “The Serenity Field is enchanting and peaceful. The moon’s light favors it above all others.”
“Oh!” The exclamation comes from a druid, Trixie, as she spots our pair. She drops to her knees on the other side of Maureen to study her frail figure. With tender care, she caresses a gnarled cheek, her thumb drawing light circles across her temple. Empathy lines Trixie’s brow in deep furrows. "You have brought a friend, Lunaria? What is she?"
I nod and stand. "She is family."
The fairies whisper to one another as the rokama huddled by Adrian to assess the scene with kind regard. Of the rokama, a deeply tanned man stands closest to Adrian with a hand clasped on his shoulder. He beams at me when our eyes meet, and a flush crawls up my chest and neck. Adrian steps forward, his obsidian eyes glancing down at Maureen.
"This woman bequeathed the entirety of her magic to restore the crystal that brought us home. We intend to see her great sacrifice honored," Adrian announces. Every eye turns to examine Maureen more studiously, their curiosity peaked. As if sensing their gaze, Maureen's smile widens.
"Take me home, Lunaria."
And so we do.
++
Home is much changed since I last looked upon its congregation of thatched houses and work buildings balanced carefully among the sturdy branches of the gianus trees. Even Celosia and Alekos can't help but marvel at the drastic modifications our village boasts.
We learn in our absence, the rokama and fairies banded together to solve the mystery of our disappearance. And now...
Now I can only gaze in wonder at the product of their unification. The structure of the village has grown to accommodate the arrival of the rokama pack. New buildings and fields stretch beyond the previous perimeter to house and feed the newcomers.
The night air holds a wondrous gleam to it as three massive fire pits blaze to grandiose heights in the village center, but the rokama and fairies who mingle bear them no mind. Small pups chase eager fairy younglings, their boisterous giggles and squeals filling the night. I watch the pups with amusement. They are overexcited black fluff balls with wings too big for their bodies. More often than not, the pups run into one another in their hunt of the little fairies who fly out of reach above them. They tumble over each other comically before shifting back to human form to give chase once more.
The wild ruckus draws pleased stares from all around.
I sit at Maureen's feet, and she, in a wooden chair behind me.
"Do you need anything more to drink?" I ask, pitching my head back to peer at her.
It is Maureen's third night in the village and her last.
We'd incurred little resistance from the council of elders, in part from our party's vehement requests to allow Maureen's presence. When the council turned its attention to Maureen for questioning, her smile never wavered. Her humble contentment to be among our kind in her last days was far more than she deserved, or so she had proclaimed.
With their permission granted, Maureen was given what comfort could be allotted to her while a celebration in her honor was arranged.
Several times already, young fairies and rokama raced to see the celebration’s strange guest of honor. Maureen offered each a silly face that left them scattering and running off, but as the night grew darker, so did her energy.
The head of the council of elders sat to Maureen's right, the illustrious alpha of the rokama pack on her left. They'd answered her questions patiently throughout the night, using both myself and Adrian as translators when necessary.
Cool, rough fingers graze my bare shoulder. "I think it is time for the di-ah, the diá—"
"The diá lostus," Elder Fi supplied to fill in Maureen's words.
With a snap of her fingers, the grand fairy stands, her luminescent wings dripping with sparkling dust. A mason appears with a wooden goblet in hand. He presents it on a silver platter to the elder.
Elder Fi in turn, passes the goblet to me, its shimmering iridescent liquid a treasure to our kind. I rise and present it to Maureen. She peers into its depths, holding back a scratching cough to drink it with shaking hands.
"Ah."
"I may remind you, madame, this elixir is no guarantee to rebirth. However, in offering your spirit and energy to the Gods and Goddess above, we may see you once again if you are deemed worthy. Come," Elder Fi extends her hand, the sparkling dust from her wings spiraling down the length of her arm and out the palm of her hand to encircle Maureen.
The former witch rises with a dreary moan, but a smile lights her face as the dust supports her.
"Whose wings are these?" She asks, voice dream-like with awe.
"Why they are yours," Elder Fi responds.
Adrian's alpha stands, a regal fur pelt of snowy white drapes over one shoulder and an iron torque wraps around his neck to display his status. He grabs the thick staff that leans against his seat and raps it against the planked platform. The village is slow to come to attention, with the rokama tuning in first, and the fairies following suit. When silence reigns, he speaks to the crowd.
"The time has come for our honored guest to take her place among the Serenity Field, warriors!"
"Aw-ho!" they cry back, their fists thumping once against their chests.
"Stand guard of our home. Keep our most prized possessions safe." The alpha nods to his pack in satisfaction then looks to Elder Fi.
She glides from the platform, one arm raising above her head, while the other reaches back to Maureen. With a dazed grin, Maureen reaches forward and places her hand in the Elder Fi's. She too glides forward, her body sinking into the support of the magical dust.
"We need only follow the lights," Elder Fi promises. Her voice is velvet and reassuring.
Fairies hurry to take their place for the resting ritual. Illuminators fly ahead to mark the path, and druids disperse to ward off unwanted critters. The masons who act as guardians form two strict lines behind Elder Fi and Maureen, spears in hand. The sprites dash up the illuminated path, their gossamer tunics whirling about them as they perform an ethereal dance for the soon-to-be departed.
I lead the cultivators up ahead of the parade and to the Serenity Field, where we decorate the land in an arrangement of the sweetest smelling flowers. Our final ritual calls for us to join hands, a special prayer sung in tandem to call forth the bed of diá lostus. The flora starts as nothing more than tiny buds, but soon bloom and grow large to weave together in petals of sunburnt clay and dusk-like purples.
By the time we finish, the processional has arrived. We kneel before the bed we've made, forming a half-circle around it. The sprites take a knee behind us, making their own outer ring, and then the masons. From above, the illuminators cast their light upon the scene below and signal the druids to complete our formation as the outermost circle.
"Koma, erstum hos banna." Come, rest your head.
Elder Fi assists Maureen to lay on the bed of diá lostus, the petals immediately curl and hug Maureen's fragile frame. My chin trembles as Elder Fi steps back, joining the other elders who took up the rear.
"May you blossom once more," Elder Fi declares. Her words are echoed in solemn prose by the collective group.
"Thank you," Maureen whispers, her words dying off as she sinks into the flower bed.
Elder Fi cups her hands, and shimmering silver particles begin to pool there. Before they have the chance to overflow, she casts her breath upon them in a steady stream, guiding the shimmering magic forward. The glimmering silver rushes to Maureen, like a river stream racing toward its final destination. As it converges upon her, Maureen releases a grateful moan.
Tears rush down my face.
Her body slowly becomes eclipsed by the silver particles until that is all that remains of her. The silver intertwines with electric blue—the prominent color of her aura—and drifts up to the moon.
"Goodbye," I whisper as my eyes lose track of the luminous sight. "May we meet again."
20 Years Later
There was little to complain about nowadays. The pack was stable. The alliance with the Trinity Coven was more than amicable. Best of all, his family was enjoying the last days of summer before his children went off to school. His youngest, West, would be entering his sophomore year of high school. Xander was surprised his son had made it through his freshman year unscathed. Though West was mild-mannered and on the quiet side, he'd inherited the lycan gene, and puberty thus far had been... interesting.
His eldest, River, who had taken a couple of years off after graduating high school to travel, was off to university in a couple of weeks. Out of state, in California, Xander thought with a sigh. She had to choose somewhere far away to stake her independence.
Xander slanted his gaze to his wife. She occupied the other end of the couch in the study. A book rested in her lap, and a cup of tea was held idle in her hand. River took after Zoelle in more ways than one. She was stubborn, passionate, and had a knack of riling him up like no other. River was also a gifted witch, if not a slightly troubled one.
A frown bunched the skin of his forehead together. All those years ago, they had thought River unaffected from that strange tonic the Blanc pack had coerced Winter to administer to Zoelle, but it was not so.
Their daughter was special. She was brimming with potential that could not be unlocked because River wasn’t just a witch, and therein laid the problem. Somewhere inside River, the spirit of a wolf lay dormant. Yet no spell, potion, or pack interventions could rouse the potential inside of her. She was born a witch-lycan hybrid but cursed to live a half-life as only one.
She was the first of her kind—the only of her kind
River put on a brave face, but Xander and Zoelle knew all too well of her frustration and angst. Their familial bonds ran too tight to ignore their daughter's doubts and sadness. Xander took up his glass of bourbon and drank heartily.
Zoelle spied her husband deep in thought as she turned the page of her book without lifting a finger. He glanced back at her, nose twitching subtly.
"What are you thinking?" Zoelle inquired.
Xander swung his gaze to the open door of the study, then the clock on the fireplace’s mantle. Before his green eyes found their way back to his wife, they managed to check the time on his wristwatch.
Xander grunted. "Is our daughter home, yet?"
"Who, River?" Zoelle teased back, her voice wry. Xander glared back without heart or heat.
"Do we have another daughter?" He asked with droll inflection.
A creak sounded from the hallway, slight but high-pitched, enough to catch Xander's superior lycan hearing. The alpha looked back to the open door, his wife ignorant of the minor disturbance.
Zoelle chuckled beneath her breath and closed her book with one finger kept between the pages to hold her place. "I'm not sure where she is. Though she should be home by now."
"We shouldn't have let her use these last couple of years to 'find herself.' What does that even mean? Now she’s off doing God knows what and—"
"Having fun? Being herself?" Zoelle retorted without remorse.
Xander scoffed, but the response did not cover the sound of the second creak of the floorboard outside. Zoelle perked at the noise, finally keen to their son's presence.
"West," Xander called out, "come in here, please."
Their skinny, lanky son entered the study with surprising grace, stopping well before coming in easy reach of them.
"Where have you been? Where's your sister?" Xander questioned.
"I've been with the Hayes twins at Uncle Ryatt's house. We were hanging out with Bryce and playing with his new drone." West scowled lightly, "You should know, I asked you if I could go." Xander colored.
"How's Kennedy? I haven't seen her in weeks." Zoelle shifted in her seat, an easy smile on her face as she set her drink aside.
West's face kept its pinched facade. "How should I know? She didn't come over to Uncle Ryatt's."
Zoelle's eyebrows inched upward. "Oh, did she stay at home to help Winter with her—"
"No, mom," West ran his free hand over his close-shaven head, his other clenching around the thick book in his possession. "She's probably somewhere making out with Leo. He's heading out soon for the Air Force, remember?"
"Callie and Keenan's boy?" Zoelle's eyes were growing larger by the second. "I wasn't aware that they were seeing each other."
"Well, they are."
Zoelle made a sympathetic noise in her throat. "Oh, well, that's too bad, honey. I know how fond you were of—"
"Mom!" Their son's strangled pitch made both Xander and Zoelle cringe.
"Don't raise your voice to your mother," Xander cut in. West's shoulders slumped forward as he gave an exaggerated groan.
"Can I go?" West asked, his cheeks undeniably red. Xander and Zoelle shared a look, the latter's lips twitching conspiratorially.
Xander took another sip of his bourbon. "After you tell us where your sister is."
The color on West's cheeks intensified. He was never good under pressure.
A sweet trill broke the stinted silence, and Zoelle hurried to answer her phone. "Hello?" She said with unnecessary breathlessness into the receiver as she fumbled to accept the call.
"Well?" Xander pressed his son. His ear cocked at the tell-tale increase of West's pulse from across the room. A warning growl began to form in the alpha's chest. "West." His son's brown eyes—the exact same shade as his mother's—looked back at him with an exasperated plea to relent.
The youngest Adolphus shuffled his weight between his feet, attempting to ignore his father's inquisitive glare. It was a pointless affair, he knew, for he would simply use his rank against him. With one alpha command, the answer would be forced from his throat.
But if he could give River just a little more time...
"Has your sister been practicing her magic around Bailey again? Why can't River practice with her coven mates? Bailey's a she-wolf, she can't offer sufficient supervision or feedback. We've been over this a hundred times now," Xander huffed. He glanced at Zoelle, who was listening intently to whatever the speaker on the other end of the phone had to say. "That girl is a bad influence on River," Xander concluded, shooting his son an unnecessary glare. West stared balefully back. "Why can't she hang out with someone her own age?"
Zoelle gasped, her bright eyes swimming with unshed tears as she hung up the phone and looked to her husband.
"What is it?" Xander demanded. He crossed the small distance between them and took Zoelle in his arms. "What's wrong?"
But Zoelle had already turned her horrorstruck gaze to their son.
West blanched and backed up a step. "She'll be fine, mom. Aunt Irina will keep an eye on her."
Xander, consumed with silent fury, took several minutes to compose himself. The wheels in his head putting together the fragmented pieces of information at an alarming pace.
His sister would keep an eye on her?
River was headed—or already in—Vienna?
The growl he attempted to contain burst forth with venom. West released a plaintive whine, bowed his head, and tilted his neck in apology.
Xander inhaled and exhaled forcefully. "Does your Aunt Irina know your sister is coming?"
A clunky, nervous laugh tumbled from West's mouth as his head jerked back up. The alpha's order forced him to answer.
"Well... not exactly."
To Be Continued
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Acknowledgments —
Well, well, well… here we are again, and for the final time.
The journey with Lunaria has been quite the ride. From its stumbling start all the way through its long reedit process. Pulling Lunaria off the shelves in January 2020 was the hardest and best decision I’ve made in my short writing career, and I hope you found this ending satisfying. I hope you fell in love with the characters and enjoyed watching them grow.
I want to thank:
Christy K.
Kate S.
Katina G.
Jacqueline M.
Jemma A.
Jenny S.
Monica B.
Cassandra T.
Thank you for being the most incredible alpha readers throughout the various stages of the re-edit process. My goodness—you women are incredible and have my deepest gratitude. Thank you. Lunaria would not be what it is without your crucial input and keen eyes.
To my incredible husband who has been there every step of the way—thank you. You’ve seen me pour my heart into this series. You’ve held me as I cried tears of frustration and laughed with me at silly inside jokes. Thank you for taking the time to edit Lunaria when your plate was already overflowing with work. It wasn’t easy, but you gave it your all in every minute you had to spare.
