The invitations went out three weeks before her birthday.
Morwenna wrote the invitations herself, seated at the morning room table with cream-coloured cards and a silver pen. Jane sat across from her, answering her own correspondence, her eyes drifting to check her daughter's spelling.
"Draco," Morwenna said, writing the name in her careful, slightly crooked hand. "Pansy, Theodore, Blaise, Millicent." She paused. "Daphne and Astoria. Neville, Susan, Ernie, Lavender."
She set the pen down and looked at the list of eleven names. Not her parents' allies. Not children of important families to impress. Simply the ones she wanted there.
After she sealed the envelopes with dark green wax and pressed the Keith crest into each one, Tilly carried them to the owlery. The birds scattered across the leaden sky like spilled ink.
.
April twenty-sixth arrived with a sky the colour of old pearls, a soft and muted expanse that hung perfectly still over the manor. The morning was cold but clear. Frost had finally retreated from the gardens, and the first daffodils opened along the stone wall near the greenhouse.
The sitting room had been rearranged, heavy furniture pushed against the walls and the rug rolled back. Tilly had set up long tables in the great hall, but he kept the decorations simple. There were no floating chandeliers or silver streamers threading through the rafters.
Instead, white cloths covered the tables, adorned with small vases of yellow and purple flowers. A cake waited in the kitchen with seven candles ready to be lit. Fresh white roses and purple lilacs stood in every corner, while deep green ivy wound around the banisters. Tilly had truly outdone himself.
Morwenna stood in the entrance hall wearing her dark green dress, the silver embroidery at her collar and cuffs catching the light. Her raven hair was braided back from her face, making the white streak at her temple look particularly bright.
The silver warding bracelet sat cool on her left wrist, and the locket containing Fleur's photograph rested against her chest. Cinder sat at her feet, his ears swivelling toward every sound from the drive, his tail sweeping the stone floor.
Jane came down the stairs, her hand trailing along the banister. "Nervous?" she asked.
"No."
"You said the same thing last year."
Morwenna frowned. "I'm not nervous. I just want them to come."
Jane kissed the top of her daughter's head and smiled. "The guests should arrive soon" She then went to check on the kitchen, leaving Morwenna to wait.
.
They arrived at mid-morning, carriages rolling up the gravel drive one after another. Susan came first with her aunt Amelia, who kissed Jane's cheek and left almost immediately. Ernie's parents dropped him off with a wave before departing.
Neville arrived with Augusta; the eagle on her shoulder turned its head to watch the hall as Neville stood stiffly at her side, his formal robes slightly too large. Augusta looked at the modest decorations and gave a single, approving nod.
"Go," she said.
Neville walked toward Morwenna like a soldier approaching a firing line.
"You came," Morwenna said.
"Grandmother said I should."
"Do you want to be here?"
He looked at the other children arriving, then at the flowers. "I don't know."
"You can stay near me," Morwenna offered. "Or you can find a corner. There's a conservatory with koi fish, and no one will bother you there."
Neville's shoulders dropped a fraction. "Maybe later."
Lavender arrived with her mother, who exchanged pleasantries with Jane before leaving her daughter behind. Then the carriages of the dark families began to appear. Draco stepped out first, his pale hair slicked back, his grey eyes scanning the entrance hall with sharp assessment. Narcissa followed, exchanged quiet words with Jane, and then departed.
Draco looked around at the flowers, the lack of a formal receiving line. "This is different from last year."
"It is."
"Good." He said it like a verdict before walking toward the morning room.
Pansy arrived with her mother, pink ribbons in her dark bob, immediately gravitated toward Draco. Theodore came alone, his striking blue eyes sweeping the room once before he found a spot near the window.
Blaise walked in with his mother, who kissed his cheek and left without a word. He looked around with quiet assessment. "The manor looks better without all the formal seating," he said.
Morwenna almost smiled.
The Greengrasses came together. Lord Cyrus and Lady Selene entered first, followed by Daphne and Astoria. Daphne wore pale blue, her platinum hair pulled back neatly. Astoria wore pink, let go of her mother's hand, ran across the stone floor.
"Happy birthday!" Astoria cried, grabbing Morwenna's sleeve.
"It's my birthday," Morwenna agreed.
"I brought you something." Astoria held out a small paper bag. Inside, a smooth stone painted with clumsy silver stars.
"Thank you," Morwenna said, and Astoria beamed.
Daphne walked over more slowly, her grey-blue eyes moving over Morwenna's face. "You look different from last year."
"I'm different."
Daphne nodded. She stood there, close enough that Astoria's presence kept her near, and waited.
The sitting room filled with voices as warm spring light through the windows softened the atmosphere.
Then the Floo flared green.
Fleur stepped out first, her silver-blonde hair falling loose over her shoulders. She wore a pale dress, a white ribbon tied in her hair. Her blue eyes found Morwenna immediately across the crowded room. Behind her, Apolline stepped out, followed by Margaux, who went to speak with Jane.
Morwenna crossed the hall at a steady, unhurried pace, her hand reaching out before she reached the older girl. Fleur's hand reached back instantly.
"You came," Morwenna said.
"I said I would," Fleur replied. Her English had improved, but the vowels still sat differently in her mouth. "Happy birthday, Nimue," Fleur said softly. Her fingers tightened around Morwenna's.
Morwenna felt something settle in her chest. It wasn't the usual cold, but something much warmer. "Grande soeur," she whispered.
Fleur's mouth curved. "Nimue."
The other children watched the exchange. Astoria tugged at Daphne's sleeve and whispered something, but Daphne only shook her head. Draco looked away, Pansy raised an eyebrow, and Theodore studied the ceiling. Morwenna didn't care. She led Fleur toward the morning room, and Fleur followed her without hesitation.
The party wasn't a ball. No grand procession, no formal dancing, no speeches. Tilly set up games in the garden: a croquet course on the lawn, a target for throwing rings. A long table of sweets stayed magically full no matter how many times the children visited.
The guests scattered across the morning room and conservatory, claiming chairs and window seats. Draco challenged Blaise to croquet and lost. Pansy pretended not to care. Theodore sat on a bench, saying little, missing nothing. Susan and Ernie played ring toss. Lavender dragged Millicent toward the sweets table. Neville found the conservatory and didn't come out for an hour.
Astoria stayed close to Morwenna. Not clinging, but within arm's reach. When Morwenna sat on the window seat, Astoria climbed up beside her. When Morwenna walked to the conservatory to show Fleur the koi, Astoria followed. Daphne followed Astoria. Daphne hovered at the edge of Morwenna's peripheral vision, tracking her sister's movements.
Fleur noticed, and Morwenna noticed Fleur noticing. She also saw the way Daphne's gaze lingered on herself for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, and how Fleur's posture shifted whenever Daphne came closer. Morwenna brushed it off; she had cake to eat.
Tilly brought the cake out at noon. White frosting, silver and green decorations, seven lit candles. The children gathered around the table. Morwenna closed her eyes, thought of the past: the recovery, the library, the tightness in her chest that hadn't gone away. She thought of Harry. She opened her eyes and blew.
The flames went out, and the children clapped, with Astoria clapping the loudest. Tilly cut the cake and handed out slices. Morwenna ate hers while standing by the window, watching her friends. Susan and Ernie talked near the fireplace while Neville examined a potted plant. Draco and Blaise stood near the fountain, pretending not to watch everyone else, and Pansy sat on the arm of Theodore's chair, talking at him while he nodded occasionally.
Fleur stood beside Morwenna, their shoulders touching. "Your party is different from last year," she said.
"It is."
"I think I like this one better."
Morwenna looked at her. Fleur watched the room rather than her, but her hand rested on the window sill close enough that their fingers almost touched.
"Stay," Morwenna said. "After. For a few days."
Fleur turned her head. "How many?"
"Three. Like last time."
Fleur looked toward Apolline, who was talking to Jane near the door. Her mother caught her eye and gave a small nod.
"Three days," Fleur agreed.
Morwenna nodded. She didn't smile, but the tension in her chest eased.
The party lasted until evening. The light through the conservatory windows turned gold and then orange. Parents arrived by carriage to collect their children. Susan hugged Morwenna, and Ernie shook her hand.
"Thank you for inviting me," Neville said, and he truly meant it. "The fish were nice."
"The koi."
"Yes, the koi. Happy birthday."
"Thank you, Neville."
Draco gave a stiff nod. "The party was acceptable."
"Thank you, Draco."
Pansy waved, Theodore raised a hand, and Blaise mentioned that the library was impressive before they all departed. Astoria didn't want to leave and wrapped her arms around Morwenna's waist.
"You can play here again," Morwenna promised.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Daphne pried her sister loose and looked at Morwenna, then at Fleur, and then back at Morwenna. "Thank you for having us."
As the carriages rolled down the drive, the entrance hall emptied. The house-elves began clearing the sitting room with quick, silent movements. Morwenna stood by the fountain with Fleur.
"Three days," Morwenna repeated. "Like last year."
Fleur's hand found Morwenna's, her fingers cool. "Three days."
Those three days passed much like the last time. They ate breakfast in the morning room and walked through the portrait gallery, where the old woman with white hair recognized Fleur. They visited the greenhouses and sat in the conservatory while Fleur read aloud from a French book. They held hands in the corridors, and Morwenna stopped noticing when it happened; it simply felt natural.
On the second night, Morwenna woke to Fleur's arm across her ribs. Fleur had moved from her trundle bed sometime in the dark. Morwenna lay still, listened to her breathe, until morning crept through the curtains.
"Bonjour," Fleur whispered when her eyes opened.
"Bonjour."
They stayed in bed until Tilly knocked to announce breakfast.
.
Fleur left the next evening. She stood in the entrance hall with her mother and her aunt, a small travel bag at her side, her silver-blonde hair loose over her shoulders.
"Three days," Morwenna said.
"Three days," Fleur agreed. "Next year. Maybe sooner."
She leaned down and pressed a quick, light kiss to Morwenna's forehead before stepping into the green flames.
. . .
The blood ritual came on the third day after Fleur left. The ritual chamber was cold, with torches burning low and floor runes pulsing a soft blue light. Jack and Jane stood at the edge of the circle while Aldric and Seraphina waited near the altar.
Morwenna lay on the cloth, the stone pressing against her back. There were forty-five runes this year, ten more than the last. As Aldric began the chant, the runes on the floor lit one by one. The first rune on her skin flared with heat, then another, and another.
She counted the shadows on the ceiling to distract herself. The pain was sharper than it had been a year ago. The runes pressed deeper and demanded more space. Her hands gripped the edge of the cloth and her jaw stayed tight, but she didn't scream. When the last rune finally settled, the pain faded to a dull ache. Jack lifted her from the altar, and Jane touched her cheek.
"It is done," Jane whispered softly.
Morwenna nodded, her throat feeling dry. "The bath. Tomorrow."
The final medicinal bath happened the next morning in the same chamber. The formula had been adjusted for her age, and the water was warm as she climbed into the copper vessel. She didn't sleep this time; she kept her eyes open and watched the ceiling. The pain was a deep, spreading warmth that pressed against her bones and ribs, doing its work without fighting her.
When the water finally cleared, Jane knelt beside the bath and lifted her out. Morwenna's legs shook and her arms felt heavy.
"It worked," she whispered.
"It's done," Jane said. "The third maturity. It's done."
. . .
The French family left a week later. Celestine kissed Morwenna's forehead, while Lucien and the others offered their own farewells.
"You must write to us properly this time," Luelle said, hugging her again. "Not those tiny little notes."
Once the Floo settled and the hall went quiet, Morwenna turned to her mother. "Elara and Viviane are still here?"
Jane raised her eyebrows. "They were planning to leave tomorrow."
"Tell them to stay longer."
"Why?"
Morwenna didn't answer. She walked toward the guest wing, her boots loud on the floor. She found Elara in her room, reading by the window.
"I need you to stay," Morwenna said.
Elara's expression didn't change. "For how long?"
"I don't know yet."
"For what purpose?"
Morwenna crossed her arms. "Because I asked."
Elara looked at her for a long moment before closing her book. "I will stay."
Viviane sat in the morning room, writing a letter. She set her quill aside when Morwenna entered.
"Don't leave yet," Morwenna said.
Viviane's eyes held hers. "Why do you want me to stay?"
Morwenna climbed onto the chair across from her. "You will see."
Viviane sighed. "Mon trésor, truly, you are impossible."
"I know."
Viviane shook her head, but she was almost smiling. "Fine. I will stay."
. . .
The staff maker lived in a stone cottage at the edge of the Keith lands, tucked into a grove of ancient yew trees. His name was Gareth, Jack's cousin. He was a broad-shouldered man with the signature black hair and silver streak of their family.
"So this is the one," Gareth said, looking down at Morwenna.
"This is Nimue," Jack replied.
Gareth led them into his workshop at the back of the house. The room smelled of wood and resin. Racks of finished staffs lined the walls. Morwenna brushed her fingers over one.
"Do you know what wood I chose for you?" Gareth asked as they sat.
"Elder."
His brows rose. "How did you know?"
"I guessed."
"Lucky guess." He picked up a length of pale, almost white wood. "Elder isn't common. Most families choose oak, hawthorn or yew. Elder is tied to death and rebirth. It tends to choose those who have faced death and understood it. You have, more literally than most."
Morwenna was silent as he explained the core. "The core is a blend of basilisk venom and phoenix tears from the Emrys line, elder dragon scale and elven hair from the LeFay line. Supporting elements include Veela hair from your grandfather's line. The binder is Void-silk from the Lethifold line. It runs through everything to keep it stable."
Morwenna studied the components. "You didn't ask what I wanted."
"You don't get a say in the wood or the core," Gareth said calmly. "Those are determined by what you are. The wood chose you, and the components chose each other. You get a say in the shape, which is what you wanted anyway."
"One drop of heart blood. The connector. The wood and core must recognize you, and the Void-silk must bind to something real."
Morwenna closed her eyes and nodded. She felt a gentle pull from deep within her chest. She coughed once, and a single drop of dark red blood rose and fell into the waiting vial. Gareth sealed it and handed her a pale green potion to drink. The hollow ache behind her ribs faded.
"The staff will take time," Gareth said, wrapping the wood in cloth. "But I will begin immediately."
"There is something else." Morwenna pulled back her sleeve to show the leather sheath on her forearm. "The daggers. The clan leader weapon is a cane with a staff inside. The goblin smith, Grindelna, said you must coordinate with her. The staff is the base, and the cane is the concealment."
Gareth looked at the dark steel and the emerald pommel. "Goblins," he muttered.
"They are making my weapons."
He was quiet for a long moment before picking up his coat. "We should go now."
.
The ride to Grindelna's smithy was quick. Grindelna was waiting at the door, her white hair pinned back and her scarred hands folded across her apron.
"The staff maker," she noted.
"Gareth Keith," he replied.
The two craftsmen met in the flickering light of the forge. Grindelna stepped aside to let them in. Morwenna stood in the doorway and watched them. Gareth was already reaching for the elder wood and describing the core components while Grindelna listened, her eyes sharp as she pulled sketches from a cabinet.
Jack touched Morwenna's shoulder. "They will figure it out."
Morwenna nodded, watching the goblin and the human work together to create her weapon.
= = =
And that's the end of Volume 1. ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)
So, what moments stood out to you? Was it something about Morwenna, or maybe another character that caught your attention?
For me, there are two.
The first is Morwenna and Fleur. There is this subtle dynamic where Morwenna feels like she is unconsciously influencing her, maybe even "taming" her in a subtle way, especially with how physically close they get.
There was even a moment while I was writing where I just thought, "Fleur, do you know there's a river in Egypt?" 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯
LOL
Then there is Fleur's reaction during her birthday. It almost feels like she is claiming her back. That part was honestly hilarious to me.
The second one is the death and rebirth scene. I did not originally plan for it to go that far. It was supposed to be "almost died," but somehow it turned into a full death and rebirth, with a detailed sequence.
When I finished writing it, I just sat there thinking, "wow, that turned out really well. I'm so awesome." ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ
Anyway, those are mine. What about yours?