Page 102 of Autumn L.A.W

Sahara’s voice cut cleanly through the others as she called the Goddess, not as if she were dialing a number, but as if she were opening a door that had always been there.

The response was quiet. The quiet that fills a room so completely it becomes its own presence.

Something warm spread outward from Victoria’s sternum, steady and sure, like being wrapped in a memory.

Peace settled in. The kind that could survive a bad day, a worse night, and still show up the next morning with coffee.

“Hands,” Sahara said.

They joined.

Eight witches, one circuit.

Energy sparked at the contact, subtle at first, then building, threading through them in a slow, deliberate current. Victoria felt it move from palm to palm, up her arm, across her shoulders, down her spine. It wasn’t overwhelming. It was right, like this was what her magic had been waiting to do all along. Even though in this body, she had no supernatural magic.

She glanced around the circle. Magda’s eyes were half-lidded, focused somewhere deeper than the fire.

Joell looked relaxed, which was always suspicious, but her grip was steady and grounded.

Crystal was smiling as if she’d just discovered a new flavor of ice cream.

Rayna stood braced, like if the magic tried anything funny, she’d tackle it.

Brianna mouthed the chant with fierce concentration, only flicking her gaze upward when her owl shifted in the branches.

Rayna met Victoria’s eyes for a beat and gave the smallest nod.

We’ve got you.

The words weren’t spoken. They didn’t need to be.

Gratitude swelled up, unexpectedly, and the back of her eyes stung. Victoria tightened her grip, letting it move through her instead of bottling it up like she usually did.

They weren’t just celebrating the harvest. They were celebrating survival and progress. Celebrating found family. Celebrating the fact that they’d come this far without accidentally blowing up a coastline, timeline, or deadline. Small wins.

Sahara released their hands and gestured to the ingredients. Five witches stepped forward and picked up one of the rare plants.

“Let’s not mess this part up,” Lioness said brightly.

“Confidence,” Joell replied.

One by one, the components went into the cauldron. Five rare plants, each handled with the kind of care usually reserved for explosives or very expensive skincare. Leaves, roots, petals… strange shapes and stranger colors slipped into the dark water with soft plunks.

Sahara added the stone dust from Chichen Itza last. It fell in a pale stream, catching the firelight for a split second before disappearing beneath the surface.

They all leaned in, just a little.

Waiting.

The cauldron sat there. The fire crackled. A log shifted. Above, the owl rustled its feathers.

“That’s it?” Brianna whispered.

“Not every spell needs to be a Broadway production,” Joell said.

Lioness squinted at the pot. “I was expecting at least one ominous glow.”

“We’re not casting it yet,” Sahara reminded them, calm and unbothered. “We’re preparing.”