Shadows Entwined (Shadows Descent #3)

44. Violet

44

VIOLET

Snow falls gently outside my window as I hang the last bauble on the small Christmas tree I managed to dig up from the forest—with its permission, of course, and my promise to return it once I’m done with it—and hauled it inside while the guys were still sleeping. I had to magick up a bunch of decorations, but I’ll allow that slight cheat seeing as there is no other option.

The guys are sprawled around my room, watching with varying degrees of amusement and confusion as I fuss with the decorations. The tree is perfect—four feet tall and pine-y with little cones dotted about. I’ve covered it in twinkling lights and sparkly ornaments that catch the light just right.

“I still don’t understand,” Caine says from his perch by the window, his new ice spear propped against the wall beside him. He has been recruited to make window decorations with his handy ice powers. Patterns of icy snowflakes spread across the glass from where he’s touching it. “Why do humans put trees inside their houses and snowflakes on their windows?”

I roll my eyes, adjusting a slightly wonky star. “It’s tradition, and it’s pretty. Besides, you’re one to talk about weird traditions. You told me not so long ago that the Ice Kingdom literally has a festival where everyone fights to the death for some honour or something.”

“That’s different,” he protests. “That’s what demons do.”

“And this is what humans do,” I counter. “Even if I’m technically fifteen hundred years old and the daughter of all magick, a few months ago, I was human. Violet Crankshaft. Fuck, am I glad that I dropped that surname,” I say with a giggle.

“Blackthorn happens to suit you,” Flint says softly, curling a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Seemed right,” I murmur with a smile.

“You dug up a perfectly good tree to stick in a pot,” Thorne points out from the bed. He’s only been back two days, but it feels like he never left. Although there is a new lightness about him that makes me smile every time I see it. The shadows that usually cling to him seem more playful now, less oppressive.

“The forest was happy for me to borrow it, and the tree is a happy fellow, aren’t you?” I croon to the tree. No one else can hear it, but I smile at the musical notes that come from it, which signify that it is enjoying being prettied up. “You’re all being very judgy about my attempts to maintain some semblance of normality.”

Flint comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. His skin is warmer than usual, which tells me he’s been practising controlling his new fire abilities. “We’re not judging. We’re just confused. The supernatural world doesn’t really do celebrations like this. They are usually more bloody and to the death.”

“As pointed out about demons,” Caine remarks.

“Well, maybe it should be more festive,” I say, leaning back against him. “A bit of joy and celebration never hurt anyone. Besides, I’ve got presents for everyone.”

That gets their attention immediately.

“Presents?” Caine perks up, turning from the window. “Now that’s a tradition I can get behind.”

“Of course that’s what catches your interest,” I laugh, turning in Flint’s arms to face them all. “Yes, presents, and a proper Christmas dinner in the dining hall later. I convinced the kitchen staff to do turkey and all the trimmings.”

“How did you manage that?” Thorne asks, sitting up with interest.

“I may have pulled the ‘niece of the headmaster’ card,” I admit sheepishly, my cheeks heating slightly. “But Uncle Luke was happy to indulge me.”

“Uncle Luke,” Thorne snorts. “Do you think he’d let us call him that?”

“Ha, no!” I exclaim. “He is very rigid about being called Professor Blackthorn in company. He’s been great in helping me understand my own powers better, too.”

“How is it going with learning about your dad?” Flint asks quietly.

I sigh. “It’s tough knowing that I will never know him. But I don’t want to dwell on that today. It’s meant to be a happy day today.”

“Are other students joining in on the festivities?” Flint asks, changing the subject as required.

“Some are curious about it. Gaida’s interested. The ones who were human before are excited.”

A knock at the door interrupts our moment. It’s Blackthorn, looking slightly uncomfortable in a dark green jumper with a reindeer on it that someone, that would be me, convinced him to wear for the occasion. The sight is so incongruous that I have to bite my lip to keep from giggling.

“Miss Violet,” he says formally, though his eyes are warm. “The Christmas dinner you requested is ready. Several students have expressed interest in participating in this tradition.”

“Yay!” I clap my hands like an excited child and follow him down the hallways of the Academy.

The dining hall has been transformed beyond my wildest expectations. Fairy lights twinkle along the walls, and enchanted snow falls from the ceiling, but disappears before it hits the tables. The usual long tables have been replaced with round ones, creating a more intimate atmosphere. Wreaths of evergreen hang everywhere, filling the air with the scent of pine and winter.

Gaida waves us over to a table she’s saved, practically bouncing with excitement. Her usual perfect composure is completely forgotten in her enthusiasm, and the Mrs Claus fancy dress costume she is wearing makes her look like a sex goddess. “This is amazing!” she exclaims.

“Look at you!” I say. “You’re getting into the spirit better than some folk.” I give Blackthorn a mocking glare. He shrugs, embarrassed, and slinks off.

As we settle in, more students drift in, drawn by curiosity and the smell of roasting turkey. Even some of the professors join in, though they look slightly bemused by the whole thing.

The food appears on our plates with magick, golden turkey, crispy roast potatoes, vegetables glazed with honey, and all the trimmings. For the vampires among us, there are goblets of warm blood infused with subtle spices that complement the food perfectly. There is even a blood pudding that actually tastes like Christmas pudding but satisfies our vampire needs.

“This is actually quite good,” Caine admits, around a mouthful of turkey. “Though I still don’t understand why humans insist on those.” He points at the paper crowns from crackers that most students are wearing askew on their heads.

“Because it’s fun,” I explain, adjusting my own purple crown. “Not everything needs a deep, mystical meaning, you know.”

“Says the daughter of all magick,” Thorne teases, his green crown somehow staying perfectly in place despite the shadows that keep playing with it. They have a sense of fun about them today, and it’s adorable.

A group of first-years at the next table are absolutely fascinated by the crackers, jumping every time one pops. A young werewolf, newly turned, is regaling his table with tales of when he was human.

“Did you know,” Gaida says, delicately sipping her blood wine, “that in some human cultures, they believe Christmas has actual magickal properties? Something about the alignment of stars and the turning of the year.”

“Really?” Flint asks, genuinely interested. “Is that why humans make wishes at Christmas?”

“They make wishes?” Caine looks alarmed. “Like, actual magickal wishes? That seems dangerous. Especially seeing as we have djinn amongst us.” He glares over at a nearby table with a close-knit group of students, lost in their own world. I recognise the woman as my first cousin, once removed. Adelaide. She is Blackthorn’s granddaughter. I don’t know her very well yet, but I hope to one day.

I laugh, nearly choking on my spiced blood. “No, not real wishes. Just hope for good things, like peace and joy and presents.”

“Although,” Blackthorn interjects from the next table, clearly having been listening, “there is something to be said about the power of collective belief. When millions of humans focus on concepts like peace and goodwill, it can create interesting magickal resonances.”

“Is that why the veils feel different today?” I ask, suddenly noticing the slight shift in the magickal atmosphere. “I thought it was just me.”

Blackthorn nods approvingly. “Very observant, Miss Violet. Yes, human celebrations can affect the supernatural world in subtle ways. It’s one reason why the Old Ones often chose significant dates for their attempts to break through.”

“Well, they won’t be doing that anymore. They are deader than dead, and any other creature who gets any ideas, tough titties. The veils are sealed tight now.” Though sometimes, in quiet moments, I can still feel them, like a constant hum in the back of my mind.

“Thanks to you,” Flint says softly, squeezing my thigh.

The conversation drifts to other topics as we eat. Someone enchants the fairy lights to dance in complex patterns, creating beautiful displays above our heads.

“A toast,” Blackthorn says suddenly, standing at the head table. The room falls quiet as he raises his glass. “To new traditions, and to those who bring light to our darkness.”

Everyone raises their glasses, and I feel tears prick my eyes as I realise he’s talking about me. About all of us, really, and how we’ve changed MistHallow for the better. The pride in his eyes when he looks at me makes my heart swell. I see him smile at Adelaide, and she grins back.

“To family,” I add quietly, looking at my strange, wonderful family around me.

Later, as we walk back to my room through the snowy grounds, the night air is crisp and clear. Our footsteps crunch in the fresh snow, and our breath forms clouds in the cold air. The grounds look magickal in the human sense of the word, with ice crystals sparkling on every surface and the moon casting everything in silver light.

Flint pulls me aside near the frozen fountain, its water caught mid-spray in a beautiful ice sculpture courtesy of Caine’s enhanced powers. “Thank you,” he says softly, his eyes glowing slightly in the darkness.

“For what?”

“For this. For showing us that there’s more to life than just power, destiny, and duty. For making us remember how to have fun.” His hands are warm against my cold skin as he cups my face. “For being you.”

I stretch up to kiss him gently. “Well, someone has to keep you from getting too serious about yourselves. You’d all just brood in corners otherwise.”

“I do not brood,” Caine protests, coming up behind us. “I contemplate. There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is, Ice Prince,” I tease. “Just like Thorne doesn’t lurk in shadows, he ‘observes from strategic darkness.’”

“I heard that,” Thorne calls out, materialising from the shadows with a grin.

“You were meant to,” I laugh, pulling away from Flint to twirl in the falling snow. Purple sparkles trail from my fingers as I twirl, my power responding to my joy.

Minutes later, we tumble into my room, slightly breathless. The little Christmas tree twinkles in the corner, creating a cosy scene that makes my heart warm.

“Presents,” I announce, pulling a small package from under my pillow. Inside are four identical silver rings, each inscribed with ancient runes that pulse with power. “I made these myself. Well, with some help from Blackthorn. They’re connected to each other and to me. So, no matter where we end up—the Ice Kingdom, the Dark Fae realm, or wherever else—we’ll always be able to find each other.”

The guys are uncharacteristically quiet as they examine the rings.

“These runes,” Thorne says finally, his voice thick with emotion. “They’re binding runes. Ancient ones.”

I nod. “The strongest I could find. I know things are going to change soon, but I wanted us to have something that keeps us connected.”

“Always,” Caine says firmly, slipping his ring on. It glows briefly with icy blue light.

“No matter what,” Flint agrees, his ring flickering with orange fire as he puts it on.

“Together,” Thorne adds, darkness swirling around his ring as he slides it onto his finger.

I put on my ring, and immediately feel the connection between us strengthen. It’s a warmth in the back of my mind, four heartbeats beating in sync.

We settle into the bed, a tangle of limbs, magick, and love. The Christmas tree casts multicoloured shadows on the walls.

“Happy Christmas,” I say softly, feeling overwhelmingly grateful for this moment, for these men, for this life that’s so different from anything I could have imagined when I was first turned.

“Happy Christmas,” they reply, pulling me into their embrace.

Tomorrow, we’ll return to training, learning to control our enhanced powers and preparing for the changes ahead. But tonight, we’re just us, celebrating a human holiday in our supernatural way, our rings glowing softly in the darkness.

And really, isn’t that what our life is now? A blend of worlds, of traditions, of magick old and new? As I drift off to sleep surrounded by the men I love, I think that maybe that’s exactly how it should be.

After all, nothing at MistHallow is ever entirely normal. But then again, normal is overrated when you’re the daughter of all magick in love with three gods.