Updated Nov 6, 2025 • ~6 min read
They returned to the cabin as husband and wife.
Officially, ceremonially, witnessed by everyone who mattered.
Thorne carried Sage over the threshold—”It’s tradition,” he insisted—and she laughed the entire way.
“We’ve been living here for weeks. This is hardly new.”
“Let me have this. I’m being romantic.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Same thing.”
He set her down in the living room, and they looked at each other in the soft lamplight.
“We’re married,” Sage said.
“We are.”
“How does it feel different from yesterday?”
Thorne thought about it. “It doesn’t, really. Except now everyone knows. There’s no hiding, no pretending, no uncertainty. The whole world knows you’re mine.”
“And you’re mine.”
“And I’m yours.”
Through the bond, Sage felt his contentment. His overwhelming happiness tempered with a nervousness that made her smile.
“You’re nervous,” she observed.
“A little. This is our first night as officially bonded partners. Seems like it should be special.”
“Every night with you is special.”
“That’s sappy.”
“We’re allowed to be sappy. We just got bonded.”
Thorne pulled her close, and she melted into him. This—this feeling of rightness, of home—never got old.
“I meant what I said in my vows,” he murmured. “Every word.”
“I know. I felt it through the bond.”
“Good. Because I plan on spending the rest of my very long life proving them to you.”
“Very long life?”
“One of the bond benefits. Extended lifespan. We could live for centuries.”
Sage pulled back to look at him. “Centuries? Together?”
“If that’s okay with you.”
“That’s more than okay. That’s perfect.”
She kissed him, and the bond hummed contentedly.
“We should celebrate,” Thorne said when they pulled apart.
“How?”
“I made something. For tonight.” He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a cake. “It’s probably terrible. I’m much better at cooking than baking. But I wanted tonight to be special, and you said cake makes things special, so—”
Sage stared at the cake. It was lopsided, the frosting uneven, and it looked like it might collapse if she breathed on it wrong.
It was perfect.
“You made me a cake,” she said, tears threatening again.
“I told you, it’s probably terrible.”
“It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
“I’m really not.”
“Perfect for me, then.”
They cut the cake—it was chocolate with some kind of berry filling—and sat at the table together.
“This is actually good,” Sage said, surprised.
“Don’t sound so shocked.”
“You said it would be terrible!”
“I was managing expectations.”
Sage threw a bit of frosting at him.
He retaliated.
Within minutes, they were in a full-blown frosting war, laughing and covered in chocolate.
“Truce!” Sage gasped. “Truce! We’re making a mess.”
“You started it.”
“You threw second!”
Thorne pulled her close, and she realized they were both covered in cake and frosting and happiness.
“We’re disasters,” she said.
“The best kind.”
He kissed her, tasting like chocolate and joy.
Later, after they’d cleaned up the cake catastrophe and showered (together this time, no awkward waiting outside the bathroom), they lay in bed together.
Their bed. Their room. Their life.
“What do you think happens next?” Sage asked, her head on Thorne’s chest.
“What do you mean?”
“The families. The covens. Us. What’s next?”
“We figure it out as we go. Start attending both coven meetings. Make sure the peace holds. Maybe start discussions about officially merging the covens eventually.”
“Think they’d go for that? A merged Mitchell-Thorne coven?”
“Not immediately. But give it time. Give them a chance to see that working together makes us all stronger.”
“And us? What do we do?”
“We live. We love each other. We build the house with the greenhouse and the library. We start our own traditions. We show everyone that a Mitchell and a Thorne can not just coexist, but thrive.”
Sage smiled against his skin. “Sounds like a good plan.”
“We could also travel. See the world. I’ve never left North America.”
“Me neither. Where would you want to go?”
“Anywhere. Everywhere. As long as you’re with me.”
“Sappy again.”
“Bonding ceremonies make me sappy. Sue me.”
Sage laughed and shifted to look at him. “I’m really happy. Is that allowed? After everything we went through, everything we lost, am I allowed to be this happy?”
“Yes,” Thorne said firmly. “The people we lost would want us to be happy. They wouldn’t want us to carry grief forever.”
“I miss them though. Lily. Uncle James. All of them.”
“I know. I miss my cousins too. But Sage—they died because Marcus wanted power. Not because we failed them. We saved everyone else. We broke the curse. We ended the feud. That’s their legacy. That’s what we built from their loss.”
Sage felt tears slide down her cheeks. “When did you get so wise?”
“Probably around the time I bonded with a brilliant witch who makes me want to be better.”
“There you go being perfect again.”
“I’ll try to be more flawed tomorrow.”
“Please don’t. I like you exactly as you are.”
They fell asleep tangled together, the bond a warm presence connecting their dreams.
And Sage dreamed of the future.
Of a house with a greenhouse where plants sang to her. Of Thorne’s library filled with books and comfortable chairs. Of children running through the gardens, born with both earth and shadow magic. Of holidays where Mitchells and Thornes gathered as one family.
Of a life worth fighting for.
Worth choosing.
Worth everything.
When she woke in the morning, sunlight streaming through the windows, Thorne was already awake and watching her.
“Good morning, wife,” he said softly.
“Good morning, husband.”
The words still sent a thrill through her.
“What’s the plan for today?” she asked.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. We’re taking the day off from saving the world.”
“Can we do that?”
“We just ended a century-long feud and broke a killing curse. I think we’ve earned a day off.”
“What will we do with a whole day of nothing?”
Thorne smiled. “I have a few ideas.”
And through the bond, Sage felt exactly what those ideas were.
She smiled back. “I like the way you think, Blackwood.”
“That’s Blackwood-Mitchell to you.”
“We’re really doing the double name?”
“Unless you have a better idea?”
Sage thought about it. Two families, united. Two names, joined.
“I like it,” she said. “Blackwood-Mitchell. Or Mitchell-Blackwood. We’ll alternate depending on mood.”
“That’s going to confuse everyone.”
“Good. Keeps them on their toes.”
Thorne laughed and pulled her closer. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Outside, the world continued. Covens learning to coexist, families healing, a new era beginning.
But inside the cabin, for one perfect day, it was just them.
Sage and Thorne.
Mitchell and Blackwood.
Together.
Forever.
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