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FIVE YEARS LATER
I cradled our newborn, a swaddle of joy with Brad’s blue eyes and my wild hair. Five years had flown by like a leaf on the Emberwick Crossing wind, but here we were, standing at the precipice of a new era. Brad and I had gotten married last year among our friends and family. He had torn down both of our houses and rebuilt a new home on our combined properties, big enough for our new family.
Holy hell, who would’ve thought I’d be here? From battling supernatural uprisings to magical interior design to changing diapers. Talk about a career change.
“Look at her.” Brad leaned in close enough for his breath to warm my ear. “She’s perfect, Sage.”
“Absolutely adorable.” I smiled at our daughter’s gentle coos.
The door to the hospital room opened, and in swept Freya, Evie, and Agatha. I wondered if they’d brought any magical baby gifts. A self-rocking cradle would be nice.
Evie, with her black hair bouncing around her shoulders, moved toward the hospital bed. “Let me see the newest witchling of Emberwick!”
“Easy there.” I laughed, adjusting the baby in my arms as Evie peered over my shoulder. “You’ll have your turn, just after Freya and Agatha.”
I mentally prepared a shield spell, just in case Evie’s excitement caused any accidental potion spills. Turning my newborn into a bunny wouldn’t be funny.
Freya edged in beside Evie, her gaze softening when she laid eyes on the little one. “Oh, she’s got such a strong aura already.”
Brad stayed by my side, his hand on my shoulder.
My cat hopped up onto the bed and inched closer. “Out of the way, you two.” Agatha’s yellow stare met mine, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. “Young witch,” she said, her voice a purring growl, “you’ve done well.”
Coming from Agatha, that was practically a standing ovation. I half expected her to break into a cat rendition of “Circle of Life.”
Brad grinned. “Thanks, Agatha.”
Evie stretched her hands out. “May I?”
“Of course.” I carefully passed my daughter into her arms.
Evie cradled the baby with utmost gentleness. “Looks like she could turn any beast into a bunny with a single giggle.”
Brad squeezed my shoulders. “Let’s hope she only uses that power for good.”
Evie flashed a mischievous grin. “Or for epic prank wars.”
Everyone’s laughter mingled with the baby’s gurgles.
I gestured toward the window where Emberwick Crossing basked under the bright sun. “Hey, it’s been five years, and just look at us now.”
From supernatural showdowns to domestic bliss. If someone had told me this would be my life five years ago, I’d have checked them for a confusion curse.
Brad mimed raising a glass. “Here’s to a brighter future.”
Freya intertwined her fingers with Evie’s. “Unity.”
Evie gazed adoringly at the baby. “Hope.”
I smiled warmly. “And new beginnings.”
Brad leaned down to kiss our daughter’s forehead.
As I watched my little family, both magical and mundane, I couldn’t help but think bring on the dirty diapers and midnight feedings. After facing down dark witches and supernatural uprisings, how difficult could parenthood really be?
Parenthood, the ultimate boss battle. At least this time, I wouldn’t need to invent a spell to change diapers...or would I?
Agatha’s tail twitched. “New beginnings? More like new headaches. Just wait until she starts levitating her toys.”
I giggled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Agatha.”
“Always here to keep it real,” she purred, stretching lazily across the foot of the bed.
Freya stepped closer, her hands glowing softly. “May I perform a blessing? It’s a tradition among healers.”
“Of course,” Brad and I said in unison.
As Freya began her incantation, Evie bounced on her toes.
“Ooh, I have something too!” She rummaged in her bag, pulling out a small vial. “A protection potion. Totally baby safe, I promise.”
Brad raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? Remember the time you tried to cure my cold?”
Evie rolled her eyes. “That was one time! And the yak hair eventually fell out.”
Brad frowned, running a hand through his hair as if checking it was still there.
I stifled a laugh. “It’s okay, Evie. We trust you.”
Ah, the joys of magical mishaps. At least yak hair was a step up from last year when Evie accidentally turned my cat into a throw pillow. Poor Agatha still refused to sit on the couch.
Freya finished her blessing, a soft golden glow surrounding the baby. “There. A little extra magical fortification.”
Brad sighed. “I think we should probably start baby-proofing the house. Magical and otherwise.”
I groaned. “Don’t remind me. We’ll need anti-levitation wards on all the furniture.”
“And flame-retardant everything,” Evie said helpfully.
Agatha snorted. “Don’t forget soundproofing spells. Trust me, you’ll need them.”
Brad laughed. “Always the optimist, aren’t you, Agatha?”
“Realist,” she corrected, licking a paw. “Someone has to be.”
Freya smiled softly. “Have you decided on a name yet?”
Brad and I exchanged glances.
“We’re still debating,” I admitted.
Naming a magical baby felt like trying to pick the perfect spell ingredient—one wrong choice and you might end up with an exploding cauldron instead of a love potion.
“How about Morgana?” Evie suggested. “Or Circe? Ooh, or Hecate!”
“We’re not naming our daughter after ancient witches,” I said firmly.
Brad nodded. “We want something more normal and modern.”
“What about Aurora?” Freya suggested. “It’s magical without being too on-the-nose.”
I considered it. “That’s not bad, actually.”
“Aurora Adams,” Brad tested it out. “I like it.”
Evie beamed. “It’s perfect! Little Aurora, the newest witch of Emberwick.”
The baby—Aurora—let out a tiny sneeze. A shower of sparks erupted from her nose, briefly illuminating the room.
We all froze for a moment, then burst into laughter.
“Well,” I said, “I guess that settles it. Aurora, it is.”
Brad leaned in to kiss my cheek. “Our little sparkler.”
Agatha’s tail swished. “Great. Now we’ll have to fireproof the nursery too.”
Evie clapped. “Oh! I can brew a flame-resistant paint! It’ll be my gift to you.”
Freya shook her head, smiling. “I’ll bring some healing balm, just in case.”
I laughed. “What would we do without you all?”
Undoubtedly have a lot fewer magical mishaps and a lot more boring dinner parties.
“Probably have a much quieter life,” Agatha mumbled.
Brad grinned. “But where’s the fun in that?”
Aurora gurgled, a tiny spark dancing on her fingertip. Parenthood might just be the wildest adventure yet.
I smiled down at her. “Welcome to the family, little one. It’s a bit crazy, but you’ll get used to it.”
“Or go mad trying.” Agatha made herself comfortable beside me on the bed.
Evie waved her hands in the air. “Oh! We should have a naming ceremony! I’ll bring the fireworks!”
Brad and I exchanged alarmed glances.
I gazed at Aurora, marveling at how this tiny human had already wrapped us all around her little finger. She was going to grow up surrounded by love, laughter and maybe a few magical mishaps.
Poor kid didn’t stand a chance of having a normal childhood. But then again, normal was overrated.
“Maybe we’ll skip the fireworks,” I said hastily.
“Aww,” Evie pouted. “Fine. Sparklers?”
“How about nice, safe, non-flammable balloons?” Freya suggested diplomatically.
Thankfully, Freya was the voice of reason. I made a mental note to buy her a “World’s Most Sensible Witch” mug for her birthday. Maybe with a built-in spell to keep her tea at the perfect temperature.
Evie brightened. “Ooh, I can enchant them to change colors!”
I shook my head, laughing. “You’re all impossible.” And yes, but in the best way possible.
Brad squeezed my hand. “But you love us anyway.”
His touch sent a surge of warmth through me, with a side of heart-fluttering, and the strong urge to create fireworks of our own.
“Yup, I sure do,” I admitted.
Aurora yawned, her tiny fist curling around Brad’s finger.
My heart melted faster than a snowman in July. How could something so small make me feel so big? Like I could conquer the world, or at least master the art of diaper changing without accidentally summoning a plague of locusts.
Freya smiled softly. “I think Aurora’s ready for a nap.”
“Join the club,” Agatha murmured, already half asleep at the foot of the bed.
I wondered if her previous life as a witch had involved professional napping. If so, she was certainly keeping her skills sharp.
As my friends gathered around, cooing over Aurora’s sleeping form, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. This was my family – quirky, magical, and absolutely perfect.
THE END