Brew 27

Emery held the grimoire close to her chest, tears spilling freely as a smile curved her lips. Years of questions had finally found answers, yet her heart swelled with a bittersweet ache.

Alone in her study, she let it all out—the grief, the pride, the sorrow, and the joy. She wept not just for herself, but for her grandfather, her grandmother, and Aria. For the years lost. For the bridges built. For the courage it had taken them all to try.

She hadn’t known how deep the rift between humans and non-humans once was. From the dark times of the Witch Hunts to the slow, painful rise of new laws—the right to education for beastmen, the protections for fae and witches alike.

And her family had helped build that world.
Her family had stood for something that mattered.

The pride mixed with a sharp sting of guilt. As a girl, she had felt abandoned by Blaise. Misunderstood. Sent away to the Academy when she had wanted, more than anything, for her grandfather to mentor her himself.

But now... now she understood.

He hadn’t been sending her away. He’d been preparing a safer world for her.

She closed her eyes and leaned back against her chair, steadying her breath. Thank you, Grandfather, she thought, the words forming in her heart before her lips whispered them aloud.

With a newfound resolve, she stood and crossed to the closet—the same place where the grimoire had first been discovered. Kneeling, she pushed aside old cloaks and scrolls until her fingers brushed something solid. A wooden chest, its brass fittings tarnished but sturdy.

She dragged it out into the light and wiped away the dust with her sleeve. The latch clicked open, Emery’s heart racing as she braced herself for whatever was inside.

Inside, carefully folded, lay the green cloak. Aria’s cloak. Emery lifted it reverently, the silver stitching catching the lamplight. Beneath it lay the blue stained-glass cup—the one Aria had brought to the village so long ago—and beside it, the delicate carved wooden flower Aria had once gifted to Seraphina.

Emery’s throat tightened. These were more than mementos.
They were symbols.
Of trust. Of friendship. Of change.

Wrapping the cloak around her shoulders, she gathered the teacup and flower carefully and reached for a lantern. Night had fallen, but she wasn’t afraid. She knew the way.

Afterall, her grandfather had left her instructions on how to find what she was looking for.

The forest seemed unchanged by the years, though Emery imagined she could see faint footprints alongside her own. Ghostly echoes of the paths Blaise and Seraphina had once walked.

Her grandfather’s presence felt so near she almost expected to hear his voice. Steady, Emery. One step at a time.

The clearing unfolded before her like the pages of the grimoire brought to life. The table stood in the centre, two teacups waiting beneath the pale light of the moon, as if time had prepared this moment just for her.

A gentle breeze stirred the leaves. Emery took a deep breath, closing her eyes to all herself to indulge in the moment. A moment that took centuries to set up.

“Hello there,” came a voice from the shadows.

Emery turned swiftly, her breath catching. From between two silver birches stepped a woman, her beauty timeless, though her eyes held the weight and wisdom of centuries.

Older now, but unmistakable.

“Aria,” Emery whispered, her eyes widening. She was finally in front of the woman who showed her grandfather joy.

Aria paused, eyes narrowing in curiosity. She stepped closer, gaze softening as it fell on the cloak Emery wore. “Who might you be?” she asked gently.

Emery’s smile trembled with emotion. “You don’t know me,” she said, voice low and warm, “but I know you.”

Recognition flickered in Aria’s eyes as she stepped forward, studying Emery’s face. “Mickleright?” she breathed.

Emery nodded, tears slipping free. “I’m Emery. Blaise’s granddaughter.”

Aria gasped and embraced her tightly. “My goodness. You look so much like your grandmother.”

“I get that a lot,” Emery laughed, though the sound was choked with tears. She placed her hands over Aria’s, grounding them both in the moment. “I found the grimoire. I’ve read everything.”

Aria pulled back, her face glowing with wonder. “Then you know... all of it?”

“I do,” Emery whispered. “And that’s why I’m here.”

She turned toward the forest’s edge, then back to Aria. “Would you like to come for tea?” She asked with a gentle tone.

Aria blinked, surprise and uncertainty warring in her eyes. “Are you sure?” she asked, voice trembling. “I’m a fae.”

Emery grinned and shrugged. “And I’m a witch. We’re all a little different, aren’t we?” She chuckled, reaching her hand out again.

The wind stirred the trees, as if nature itself waited for Aria’s reply.

Aria looked down at Emery’s outstretched hand, then past her, where—just for a breath—she thought she saw Blaise and Seraphina standing together at the forest’s edge, smiling with quiet approval.

Tears filled Aria’s eyes as she clasped Emery’s hand tightly. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I would love to.”

The promise had been kept. The bridge between worlds had not only endured—it had grown.

Hand in hand, they stepped out of the past and into the future together.