Updated Nov 6, 2025 • ~11 min read
“This is a terrible idea,” Thorne said for the fifth time.
Sage adjusted her green dress—formal coven attire for family gatherings—and checked her reflection in the mirror. The bond marks were clearly visible now, crawling up both arms past her elbows. She’d tried covering them with makeup, but the glow showed through.
“We need to tell them about the bond solution,” she said. “And about what we found in the Council archives.”
“So we send them a report. We don’t walk into a Mitchell family dinner with a Thorne.”
“They need to hear it from us. See that we’re working together, that we’re…” She gestured between them. “This.”
“Together?” Thorne supplied. He stood behind her, dressed in dark slacks and a deep purple shirt—Thorne colors. The contrast when they stood side by side was stark. “That’s what you want to tell them? That we’re together?”
Sage met his eyes in the mirror. “We’re bonded. Or bonding. They’ll figure it out when they see the marks.”
“And then they’ll kill me.”
“They won’t kill you.”
“Your uncle James looks at me like he’s planning creative murder.”
“James looks at everyone like that. It’s his face.”
Thorne didn’t look convinced.
“Besides,” Sage continued, turning to face him, “you can’t die. Bond marks remember? We’re linked now. If you die, I probably die too.”
“That’s not as comforting as you think it is.”
She smiled and reached for his hand. The marks sang at the contact. “We’re in this together, remember?”
“Together,” he agreed reluctantly. “Even when together means walking into a room full of people who hate me.”
“They don’t hate you. They don’t know you.”
“They hate what I represent.”
“Then we show them you’re more than that.”
The drive to the Mitchell estate was tense. Thorne drove with one hand so Sage could hold the other—the separation pain was too intense now for even seatbelts between them.
“We could still turn around,” Thorne said as the gates came into view.
“We could.”
“But we’re not going to.”
“No.”
He sighed. “You’re the bravest person I know. Or the most reckless. I haven’t decided which.”
“Can’t it be both?”
That got a small smile.
The estate was lit up, every window glowing. Sage could see cars in the driveway—her whole family was here. Extended aunts and uncles, cousins, the entire coven.
Usually family dinners were her favorite. Good food, loud laughter, belonging.
Tonight it felt like walking into a firing squad.
Iris met them at the door. Her eyes went wide when she saw Thorne, then dropped to their joined hands.
“Sage,” she said carefully. “You brought a guest.”
“This is Thorne Blackwood. My research partner.”
“I know who he is.” Iris’s gaze flicked between them. “What I don’t know is why he’s here for family dinner.”
“We have information to share. About breaking the curse.”
“So email it.”
“Iris—”
“Sage, you can’t just bring a Thorne to family dinner. Grandmother will lose her mind.”
“Good,” Sage said firmly. “Maybe it’s time we all lose our minds a little. Force us to see clearly.”
Iris stared at her. Then at their hands again—at the glowing bond marks now impossible to hide.
“Oh my god,” she breathed. “Are those bond marks?”
“Yes.”
“You’re bonding with a Thorne?”
“We don’t have a choice. The curse triggered destined marks. They appeared a week ago.”
“And you’re just telling me now?”
“I’m telling everyone now.”
Iris looked at Thorne, really looked at him. He stood still under her scrutiny, jaw tight but expression open.
“He’s good to you?” Iris asked Sage.
“Better than good.”
“And you want this? The bond?”
“Yes.”
Iris was quiet for a long moment. Then she stepped aside. “Okay. But I’m staying close in case someone tries to hex him.”
“Fair.”
They walked into the main hall together—Sage, Thorne, and Iris forming a small protective triangle.
The conversation in the dining room died the instant they entered.
Twenty Mitchells turned to stare.
Sage felt Thorne’s hand tighten on hers.
Elder Mitchell sat at the head of the table, her eyes sharp and cold. “Sage. Would you care to explain why you’ve brought our enemy into our home?”
“He’s not our enemy,” Sage said, lifting her chin. “He’s my partner. And we have a solution to the curse.”
“The only solution involves a Thorne leaving,” Uncle James said darkly.
“The only solution involves listening.” Sage pulled Thorne farther into the room. Several family members stood, magic crackling in the air.
“Everyone calm down,” Iris said sharply. “Let her speak.”
Elder Mitchell raised a hand. The family settled, but the hostility remained thick.
“We found records in the Council archives,” Sage began. “Documents from 1923, when the feud started. They tell a different story than what we were taught.”
“There is no different story,” her grandmother said. “Eleanor Mitchell was murdered by Silas Thorne. That is fact.”
“It’s one version of fact,” Thorne said quietly. “The Thorne family records say Eleanor tried to steal from us and died in the backlash. But the Council’s neutral investigation says something else entirely.”
He pulled out copies of the documents they’d found. “Eleanor and Silas were meeting in secret. For months. They were planning to unite the covens through a blood bond.”
The room erupted.
“That’s a lie!”
“Thorne propaganda!”
“Get him out!”
“It’s not a lie,” Sage shouted over the chaos. “The Council has letters between them. Records of their meetings. They were in love. They wanted to end decades of smaller feuds and bring the families together.”
“Then why did she die?” Elder Mitchell demanded.
“Because someone didn’t want the covens united,” Thorne said. “Someone murdered them both—Eleanor and Silas—during their bonding ritual. Made it look like they’d killed each other. Then fed both families false stories to ensure the feud continued.”
Silence.
“That’s…” Sage’s mother started. “That’s impossible.”
“The Council verified it,” Sage said. “Someone profited from keeping our families at war. And we think that same someone cast this curse.”
“Why? Why now, a hundred years later?”
“We don’t know yet. But we know how to break the curse.” Sage took a breath. “A blood bond between a Mitchell and a Thorne.”
More eruption. More shouting.
Sage raised her arm, letting the glow of the bond marks show clearly. “It’s already begun. Destined marks appeared last week. The magic chose us.”
Every eye in the room fixed on her arm. Then on Thorne’s, which bore identical marks.
Elder Mitchell stood slowly. “You allowed this? You’re bonding with a Thorne?”
“It’s not about allowing,” Sage said. “The marks appeared on their own. But yes, we’re bonding. Because it’s the only way to break the curse, and because we want to.”
“You want to?” Her grandmother’s voice was ice. “You want to betray your family for a Thorne?”
“I want to save my family by working with the Thornes!”
“Same thing as betrayal.”
“No, it’s not!” Sage felt tears prick her eyes. “For a hundred years we’ve hated them based on lies. Eleanor and Silas tried to bring us together, and someone killed them for it. Are we really going to let their murder keep us at war forever?”
“The Thornes are dangerous,” Uncle James said.
“So are we,” Thorne replied. “Every coven is dangerous. But dangerous doesn’t mean enemy. We’ve been working together for three weeks. Your niece is brilliant, dedicated, and fierce. I’m proud to be bonded to her. And I think if you gave us a chance—gave both our families a chance—you’d see we’re not so different.”
“We’re very different,” Elder Mitchell said coldly.
“Are we?” Thorne gestured around the room. “You gather for family dinners. So do Thornes. You train your children in magic. So do we. You love fiercely and protect your own. So do we. The only real difference is that we’ve been told to hate each other.”
“He’s right,” Iris said quietly. Everyone turned to look at her. “I’ve been watching Sage with him. He’s protective of her. Respectful. He saved her life when the curse backlash attacked. That’s not the behavior of an enemy.”
“That’s the behavior of someone playing a long game,” Uncle James countered.
“For what?” Sage demanded. “What’s the endgame? We’re bonding. Our magic will be permanently merged. If he wanted to hurt me, hurt our family, bonding would be the worst possible strategy.”
No one had an answer for that.
Elder Mitchell looked at Sage for a long moment. “If we allow this bond, you understand what it means? You’ll be tied to the Thornes forever. If the families go to war again, you’ll be caught in the middle.”
“Then we make sure the families don’t go to war,” Sage said. “We end the feud. For real this time.”
“That’s idealistic.”
“That’s necessary. Grandmother, five people are dead. The curse is accelerating. We have maybe two weeks before someone else dies. I don’t want that someone to be you. Or Mom. Or Iris’s daughter. So yes, I’m bonding with Thorne Blackwood. And yes, I’m asking the family to trust me.”
Silence.
Then Sage’s mother stood. “I trust you.” She walked over, looked at Thorne directly. “You hurt my daughter, and I will end you in ways magic hasn’t conceived of yet. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Thorne said.
“But if you’re good to her, if you protect her and honor her…” Her mom’s expression softened. “Then welcome to the family.”
She hugged Sage, whispered “I hope you know what you’re doing” against her hair, then stepped back.
Slowly, other family members approached. Not everyone—Uncle James and a few others stayed firmly in their seats, glaring. But enough. Enough to make Sage’s throat tight with relief.
Elder Mitchell was the last to move. She approached them, her expression unreadable.
“You are risking everything,” she said to Sage.
“I know.”
“If this bond fails, if the curse isn’t broken—”
“It will be. We’ll break it together.”
Her grandmother looked at Thorne. “You love her?”
“I’m getting there,” he said honestly. “Ask me again in a week. The answer will be yes.”
Elder Mitchell’s lips twitched. Almost a smile. “You’re bold. I’ll give you that.”
“Runs in the family, apparently,” Thorne said, glancing at Sage.
This time her grandmother did smile. Small, but real.
“Stay for dinner,” she said. “Let us get to know the witch who’s stealing our Sage.”
“I’m not stealing her,” Thorne said. “She’s choosing me. There’s a difference.”
“Yes,” Elder Mitchell agreed, looking at Sage with something like pride. “There is.”
Dinner was awkward. Thorne fielded suspicious questions and outright hostility from half the table while the other half watched with curiosity. But Sage’s mom asked him about his cooking, Iris drilled him on his intentions, and by dessert, a few cousins were actually laughing at his dry humor.
It wasn’t perfect.
But it was a start.
As they left, Iris pulled Sage aside.
“You’re really doing this,” she said. “Bonding with him. Ending the feud.”
“Yes.”
“What if it doesn’t work? What if the families won’t accept it?”
Sage looked at Thorne, waiting by the car with the patience of someone who’d spent three hours being interrogated by her family.
“Then we make our own family,” Sage said. “Him and me. And anyone else brave enough to choose love over hate.”
Iris hugged her tight. “I’m proud of you. Terrified for you. But proud.”
“I’ll take it.”
In the car, Thorne let out a long breath. “That was the most stressful meal of my life.”
“You survived.”
“Barely. Your uncle James asked me about my ‘intentions’ four separate times.”
“He’s protective.”
“He’s terrifying.” Thorne glanced at her. “But worth it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Your family loves you. Even when they don’t agree with you, they love you. That’s…” He paused. “That’s special.”
Sage laced their fingers together. “You’ll get to be part of it. Once we’re bonded.”
“If they don’t kill me first.”
“They won’t. You’re growing on them.”
“Like a fungus?”
“Like family.”
Thorne smiled—real and warm.
And Sage thought: We’re really doing this. Building something new from the ashes of old hate.
Together.
Reader Reactions