Page 65 of Bear Naked Truth
The ritual had to be done inside Briar Hollow. Within the bones of the house where it had all begun. Where Hollis had lived, loved, and lost. The sorrow was bound to these walls, soaked into floorboards and fireplace mortar. It wasn’t the earth outside that needed release.
It wasthis place.
They’d chosen the east parlor for the preparation. The room most affected by the spirit’s presence, where mirrors had cracked on their own and cold spots hovered near the hearth even in August. Autumn had set the perimeter earlier that morning, tracing sigils in salt along the molding, anchoring the corners with bundles of sage and hawthorn tied with red string.
Missy had stopped by briefly, arms full of protective wards and unsolicited advice. Markus and Rowan lent their energy too, reinforcing the charms with quiet murmurs and a few unsanctioned puns. Nico, in true Nico fashion, handed Autumn a small glass vial of swirling golden truth-oil and said,“If the ghost won’t talk, this’ll loosen his dusty tongue.”
Now it was just her and Dorian, moving through the parlor in a rhythm that felt familiar, unhurried. She carried her chalk in one hand, sketching the preliminary circle in wide, steady curves, each line deliberate, each breath syncing with the gentle hum of her magic.
Dorian knelt at the cardinal points, placing their symbolic offerings with a reverence that made her chest tighten—rose petals for what was lost, silver coins for the debt owed, and a piece of briar root, dried and splintered, for the pain still lingering in the walls.
They didn’t speak much but there was no real need to.
When the last symbol was drawn in the center, Autumn stepped back, wiping her palms on her jeans. The room didn’t feel heavy anymore—not hostile. Just... waiting.
She looked at him then, Dorian crouched beside the hearth, hands resting loosely on his knees, his eyes trained on her like he was taking in something sacred.
“This isn’t just about sending him on,” she said quietly, echoing what had lived in her chest for days. “It’s about showing him he doesn’t have to stay.”
He nodded, rising. “It’s about giving him peace.”
She hesitated. “And maybe… giving me some too.”
He moved closer, fingers brushing hers, anchoring her in a way no ward ever could. “You’ve earned it. Whether you think so or not.”
She exhaled, gaze sweeping the room. “This house… it’s seen so much.”
“It’s survived it too.”
Autumn nodded slowly, her eyes drawn to the way the sun filtered through the parlor window, casting honeyed light across the rug. Dust swirled in the beams. It didn’t feel like a haunted house right now. It felt like a memory, waiting to be rewritten.
“I didn’t think I’d ever be able to call something home again,” she said.
He didn’t press. Just let the silence stretch between them until she filled it.
“But this place… this town. You.” Her hand lifted, fingers brushing the moonstone necklace resting against her chest. “It’s starting to feel like something I might be able to stay for.”
Dorian smiled. Soft. Certain.
She stepped into him, not because she needed to be held, but because she wanted to be close. The kind of close you only get when you stop running.
They stood there for a long moment, the room quiet around them, the air no longer holding its breath. It wasn’t finished. Not yet.
But finally, Autumn didn’t feel like she was borrowing peace.
She felt like she was building it.
34
DORIAN
Dorian had seen storms roll off the mountains in the dead of night, how they crept in on a hush, then broke all at once, lightning snapping across the sky like it was tearing the world in half.
That’s how the night felt.
Tense. Breathless.
On the outside, the inn looked still. Quiet. Not a whisper of wind through the trees. But inside Briar Hollow’s parlor, where sigils glowed faintly across the floor and salt lines glimmered like star paths, the air was thick with something ancient.
