Updated Apr 13, 2026 • ~7 min read
Chapter 19: Morgan’s Help
Oliver
Oliver wakes to find Sage and Morgan deep in conversation about magical theory that goes completely over his head, and he lies on the couch for a few minutes just listening, appreciating how well they work together even though their romantic relationship ended years ago.
“We need more power for the binding,” Morgan is saying. “Destroying the medallion will weaken the Collector, but they’ll still have two centuries of absorbed magic. We need at least three strong witches to hold the binding long enough to complete the banishment.”
“We have you, me, and Rowan,” Sage lists. “That’s not quite three strong witches.”
“Rowan is powerful,” Morgan argues. “Younger than us, yes, but she has raw talent.”
“Rowan is going to want to help,” Oliver adds, sitting up, and both witches turn to look at him. “You’re not going to be able to stop her.”
“She’s my apprentice,” Sage says. “I’m supposed to protect her.”
“And she’s going to tell you that you’ve been protecting her for two years and now it’s her turn to help,” Oliver predicts, because he’s gotten to know Rowan fairly well over the past three weeks.
As if summoned, there’s a knock at the door, and Rowan lets herself in with her usual sunny energy that seems wildly inappropriate given that they’re planning to fight an immortal witch hunter.
“I’m helping with the final fight,” Rowan announces before anyone can say anything. “Don’t try to argue. I already talked to the Harbor Coven and they’re providing backup support from a distance, but you need me for the primary binding.”
“Rowan—” Sage starts.
“No,” Rowan interrupts firmly. “Sage, you took me on as an apprentice when no one else would. You’ve taught me everything I know about magic. You think I’m going to sit this one out and let you face the entity that killed your coven without helping?”
“You could die,” Sage says flatly.
“So could you,” Rowan retorts. “So could Morgan, or Oliver, or anyone fighting. But we’re doing it anyway because that’s what witches do—we protect each other.”
Morgan is grinning. “I like her. She’s got spine.”
“She’s got a death wish,” Sage mutters, but Oliver can feel through the bond that she’s also proud.
They spend the day planning the final confrontation—Morgan providing tactical expertise, Rowan contributing surprising insights about binding magic, and Oliver offering historical context and also making sure everyone actually eats food and drinks water because apparently he’s the designated caretaker now.
Mid-afternoon, Morgan pulls Oliver aside while Sage and Rowan are debating ward configurations.
“We should talk,” Morgan says, and Oliver braces himself because conversations that start that way are rarely comfortable.
“Okay,” he agrees, following her to the shop floor below.
Morgan doesn’t waste time with preamble. “She chose you. I don’t fully understand it—no offense, but you’re human and she’s one of the most powerful hereditary witches I’ve ever met—but she chose you.”
“I know,” Oliver says carefully.
“And I need you to understand what that means,” Morgan continues. “Sage doesn’t let people in. After her coven died, she shut down completely. I tried for months to get past her walls and failed. But somehow you managed it in three weeks.”
“What’s your point?” Oliver asks, not unkindly.
“My point is that if you hurt her, if you leave, if you prove that her trust was misplaced, it’ll destroy her,” Morgan says bluntly. “She’s put more of herself into this—into you—than she has into anything since the massacre. You’re her hope. Don’t fuck it up.”
“I don’t plan to,” Oliver says.
“Plans and reality aren’t always aligned,” Morgan points out. “You’re human. You’re going to die eventually, even if the Collector doesn’t kill you. What happens to Sage when that day comes?”
Oliver has thought about this, has worried about the fact that even in the best case scenario where they both survive and build a life together, he’s going to die decades before Sage does.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “But I’d rather give her however many years we have together than deny her happiness because of an inevitable ending.”
Morgan studies him for a long moment, then nods slowly. “Good answer. And Oliver?”
“Yeah?”
“I know I’ve been kind of a bitch about the whole human thing,” Morgan says. “But you’re good for her. Better than I was. So… thank you. For making her laugh again. For giving her a reason to hope.”
“She did that herself,” Oliver says. “I just gave her permission.”
“That’s the same thing,” Morgan says, smiling slightly.
They return upstairs to find Sage and Rowan have made significant progress on the binding ritual design, and the four of them spend the rest of the evening finalizing every detail, preparing for a confrontation that could easily kill them all.
“The plan is solid,” Morgan declares around midnight. “We destroy the medallion, the Collector loses corporeal cohesion, we bind them while they’re weakened, then we banish them using the old Salem ritual that the original coven should have used instead of imprisonment.”
“What could go wrong?” Oliver asks rhetorically.
“Literally everything,” Sage says. “The medallion might be more protected than we think. The Collector might have backup anchors. We might not be strong enough to hold the binding. The banishment ritual might fail. Oliver could get killed because he’s the only human in this fight.”
“You’re really good at staying positive,” Oliver observes.
“I’m being realistic,” Sage retorts, but through the bond Oliver feels her fear for him specifically, her terror at bringing him into danger.
“I’m staying,” Oliver says firmly. “We’ve been through this. I’m part of this team.”
“You’re the liability,” Sage argues.
“He’s the reason you’ll fight harder,” Morgan corrects. “Love makes witches dangerous, Sage. You know that.”
Sage glares, but she doesn’t deny it.
They finalize the last details—location (the original Salem execution site, because symbolism matters in magic), timing (dawn, for maximum power), supplies (enough magical components to stock a small shop)—and then Rowan declares she’s going home to sleep and Morgan decides to get a hotel room for the night.
“Big day tomorrow,” Morgan says, gathering her things. “Everyone should rest. Sage, try not to stay up all night researching contingencies.”
“I don’t do that,” Sage lies.
“Yes, you do,” everyone says in unison.
After they leave, it’s just Sage and Oliver, and the weight of what’s coming tomorrow settles over them like a shroud.
“We might die tomorrow,” Sage says quietly.
“We might,” Oliver agrees. “But we also might win.”
“And if we win?”
“Then I’m taking you on that date I promised,” Oliver says. “Somewhere nice. You’ll complain about having to dress up, I’ll tell you you’re beautiful, you’ll threaten to hex me, I’ll grin because I know you won’t.”
Sage smiles despite herself. “That does sound like us.”
“We’re going to survive this,” Oliver says, pulling her close. “And then we’re going to have an absurdly long life together where you’re grumpy and I’m optimistic and we’re annoyingly happy.”
“I don’t know how to be annoyingly happy,” Sage points out.
“Then I’ll teach you,” Oliver promises.
They hold each other as the night deepens, gathering strength for the battle ahead, and Oliver sends a silent prayer to whatever forces might be listening that they all survive to see tomorrow’s sunset.
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