The gifts came after the cake, marking a gentle transition from the afternoon's excitement to a quieter, more intimate gathering.
Morwenna sat on a plush indigo cushion in the center of the hall, her silver-embroidered dress spread around her. Cinder had settled comfortably in her lap, his warm, heavy body providing a welcome anchor amid the pile of wrapped presents and the expectant faces surrounding her.
Saoirse, her black hair gathered into a messy braid that left the sharp white streak running through it clearly visible, had appointed herself the official gift assistant. She sat cross-legged beside her niece, ready to help with stubborn knots, complicated wrapping, or any package too heavy for little hands.
Aldric and Seraphina were the first to step forward.
Aldric's tall frame cast a long shadow as he presented a small chest made of dark, polished wood. Intricate carvings of serpents and phoenixes covered its surface, their shapes seeming to shift in the firelight. The lid was surprisingly heavy, and Morwenna needed both hands to lift it. As it opened, the hinges released a faint, melodic hum.
Inside lay a collection of smooth stones, each etched with a different rune that glowed with a faint inner light.
"For when you begin learning," Aldric explained in his deep, steady voice. "You can hold them and familiarize yourself with their shapes. The runes will help you understand their nature before anyone even explains them to you."
Morwenna reached into the chest and picked up the Algiz rune stone. It was warm against her palm, and a strange vibration passed through her fingers, almost as though the stone recognized her. She curled her hand around it and felt a faint pulse, a steady rhythm that seemed to match her own heartbeat.
She looked up at Aldric.
He met her gaze and gave a single nod, his green eyes reflecting the glow of the fireplace.
Satisfied, Morwenna returned the rune stone to its velvet-lined compartment and carefully closed the chest.
Next came Celestine and Lucien.
Their gift was a set of paintbrushes with slender silver handles, accompanied by a box of pigments made from crushed flowers and rare minerals. The box was divided into tiny compartments, each filled with a vibrant color that seemed almost alive.
« De le jardin du château, (From the castle garden)» Celestine explained softly. "Every color comes from something that grows there."
Morwenna dipped a finger into the red pigment. It felt soft and powdery, like dried flower petals. The blue felt cooler to the touch, reminding her of deep water, while the yellow released a faint fragrance of honey and summer flowers.
"For painting?" she asked.
"For anything you want to make beautiful, ma petite," Lucien replied, his voice gentle and melodic.
Morwenna looked over the colorful box again before carefully setting it beside the wooden chest.
Raphaël came next, carrying a small silver frame containing a pressed flower from the château garden. The flower was a deep indigo, almost exactly the shade of Morwenna's birthday dress. According to the family records, it had grown in the LeFay garden for three hundred years.
"Morgana's garden," he explained quietly. "This flower has seen a great deal of history."
Morwenna accepted the frame with both hands, careful not to drop it. The glass felt cool beneath her fingertips, and the flower itself looked as delicate as silk preserved in time. She tilted the frame, watching the light catch the deep blue petals and the fine silver veins running through its leaves.
"She saw it?" Morwenna asked, her green eyes widening. "Morgana?"
"Perhaps. The records say she often walked through that garden, but no one knows exactly which flowers she touched. It's possible she saw this one." Raphaël paused, his gaze lingering on Morwenna's white hair. "But we know the flower was growing there during her time."
Morwenna held the frame against her chest for a moment, quietly considering the thought. Then she placed it beside her other gifts, taking care to keep it upright.
Luelle was next.
She presented Morwenna with a supple leather strap adorned with several little bells. Each bell was a different size and produced its own distinct sound, ranging from high, clear chimes to deeper, more resonant notes.
Kneeling in front of her niece, Luelle fastened the strap around Morwenna's ankle.
"There," she said with a playful wink. "Now we will always know where you are. No more sneaking up on people, n'est-ce pas?"
Morwenna shook her foot experimentally.
The bells jingled, their bright, cheerful notes echoing through the high-ceilinged hall. Delighted, she shook her foot again, listening closely to how the different tones blended together.
Luelle grinned at her obvious enjoyment.
Saoirse's gift came next.
She placed a small compass in a silver case into Morwenna's hands. It was an old piece, its glass lightly scratched from years of use, but the needle remained steady and true. The silver casing had been polished smooth by the hands of those who had carried it before her.
"So you will always find your way back," Saoirse said. Her expression was unusually gentle. "No matter how far you travel."
Morwenna held the compass flat in her palm and watched the needle settle toward the north. After a moment, she raised her eyes to her aunt, studying the distinctive white streak in Saoirse's dark hair.
"You too?"
Saoirse blinked before breaking into a grin.
"I already know the way back."
Morwenna considered this answer with her usual seriousness. Then she pointed the compass toward Saoirse's chest.
"Show me."
Saoirse burst out laughing, the sound bright and unrestrained. She tapped her own chest with one finger.
"North is that way," she said, then gestured toward the window, where the first stars were beginning to appear beyond the lingering mist. "But home is something different. Wherever you go, you carry it with you. It's right here."
She gently tapped Morwenna's chest, just above her heart.
"Home is inside you."
Morwenna lowered her gaze to the compass again, apparently giving the explanation some serious thought. Finally, she tucked the little instrument carefully into her serpent-skin pouch.
Viviane presented the next gift.
It was a small, locked box made of dark wood, its surface decorated with intricate silver filigree. Morwenna examined it from every angle but couldn't find a keyhole or even a visible seam to suggest how it might open.
"It will open when you are ready for what is inside," Viviane explained, her voice carrying her familiar, elegant French accent. "Not a moment before."
Morwenna gently shook the box beside her ear.
Something shifted inside, making a sound so faint that she could barely hear it. It reminded her of fabric brushing against fabric, or perhaps the soft rustle of feathers.
She brought the box closer to her ear and listened again, but the wood remained silent.
"What is it?"
Viviane smiled.
"If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret anymore, mon trésor."
Morwenna considered this reasoning for a moment. Finding no obvious flaw in it, she accepted the answer and carefully placed the mysterious box beside her other presents.
Jack and Jane presented the final gift together.
Inside a small wooden box, nestled on dark velvet, lay a silver locket.
"Open it," Jane said, resting a hand on Jack's shoulder.
Morwenna pressed the catch, and the lid sprang open. Inside were two tiny portraits, one of Jack and the other of Jane. Their images moved in little loops, smiling at her as though they were right there with her. Jack's portrait winked, his black hair and its familiar white streak as messy as ever, while Jane's blew her a silent kiss.
"So we will always be with you," Jack said, his voice low and steady. "Even when we are in the next room."
Morwenna closed the locket and held it against her chest. It was warm against her skin, much like the rune stone had been, and seemed to pulse faintly in time with her own heartbeat. She looked up at her parents, meeting her father's steady gaze and seeing the brightness in her mother's green eyes.
"Always?" she asked.
"Always," they answered together, their voices blending in the quiet hall.
Late that afternoon, as the party settled into a comfortable hum of conversation and the occasional clink of wineglasses, Elara found Morwenna by the window.
The little girl was standing on a cushioned bench, gazing out at the fading garden. Cinder sat beside her, his tail neatly wrapped around his paws. Behind them, the silver flowers continued drifting through the hall, catching the last of the daylight and scattering tiny reflections across the stone floor.
Elara approached quietly and stopped beside the bench. For a while, she said nothing, simply standing there and looking out at the same muted landscape.
Morwenna glanced at her before returning her attention to the garden.
"Your bracelet," Elara said at last, gesturing toward the silver band around Morwenna's wrist. It was the one she had given her a year ago. "May I see it?"
Morwenna held out her arm.
The bracelet was simple, its only decoration a continuous line of protective runes so finely engraved that they were almost invisible to the naked eye. Since the day Elara had fastened it around her wrist, Morwenna had never taken it off.
Elara reached for the delicate clasp. It yielded easily beneath her fingers, allowing her to slip the silver band free.
"I want to add something to it," she explained, her French accent as precise as ever. "Another layer. Another line of protection." She held the bracelet in her open palm. "May I keep it for a few days?"
Morwenna looked down at her bare wrist. Without the familiar weight of the bracelet, her skin felt strangely exposed. She rubbed the spot once with her other hand before looking back at Elara.
"When will it come back?"
"Soon. Before you need it."
Morwenna considered the answer.
She thought about the days ahead and the event no one had named in front of her, though everyone knew it was coming. She thought about the way her parents had been looking at her lately, and the weight she sometimes glimpsed in their eyes.
Then she reached out and touched Elara's hand, the one holding the bracelet.
"Make it good."
Elara's expression remained unchanged, but her fingers curled slightly around the silver band.
"I will."
She slipped the bracelet into her pocket and walked away.
Morwenna looked down at her bare wrist again. Her skin was pale and unmarked. She pressed her thumb against it, feeling the steady beat of her own pulse beneath the surface.
A moment later, Cinder nudged her knee.
Morwenna stroked his head and turned her attention back to the garden.
That evening, after Morwenna had been carried upstairs and tucked into bed, the adults gathered in the study.
The fire burned brightly in the hearth, casting long, flickering shadows across the crowded bookshelves. All twelve adults filled the room, settling into chairs and settees as the scent of old paper and woodsmoke hung in the air. Saoirse sat on the floor with Cinder curled against her thigh, both of them exhausted from the day's festivities.
For a long while, no one spoke.
The joy of the birthday celebration had given way to something quieter and more serious. The coming days weighed on every person in the room, even if none of them had allowed that concern to intrude on Morwenna's special day.
At last, Aldric leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"We are all here now. Everyone who needs to be." His gaze moved around the room, meeting each person's eyes in turn. "You have all received the letters. You know what is coming."
The others nodded. No one tried to avoid the seriousness of the moment.
Jack spoke next, his voice steady and controlled.
"Morwenna's first magical maturity is due this week. The ritual must take place within seven days of her birthday."
"Seven days," Celestine confirmed, her green eyes sharp. "Her core will settle quickly. We can't afford to wait any longer."
Jane sat with her hands folded in her lap. Her voice was calm, carrying the same measured quality it took on when she wrote in her journals.
"We have chosen the balanced path. Attunement will form the foundation, with physical enhancement to strengthen her body. The two elemental threads, Veela and Lethifold, will complement those major lines without competing with them."
"The bath formula," Celestine added, "will contain forty percent Attunement, thirty percent Physical, fifteen percent Veela, and fifteen percent Lethifold. We have gathered all the ingredients. Tilly has them in storage and checks them twice a day."
Aldric reached for a sheet of parchment lying on the table. Its edges were worn from repeated handling.
"The runes have been chosen. Ten marks in total."
He glanced down at the parchment and read them aloud, his voice quiet but clear.
"Algiz, for protection. Ehwaz, for trust between body and magic. Uruz, for strength. Nautiz, for the constraint that builds character. Isa, for stillness. Othala, for inheritance. Awen from the Evans line, for flow. The Veela rune, for warmth and presence. The Lethifold rune, for quiet and shadow. And Jera, for cycles and patience."
Seraphina's knitting needles had finally fallen still in her lap.
"The blood ritual must come first," she said. "That's the Keith way, the druidic foundation. Without it, the maturity ritual would be like trying to channel a river through a garden hose."
"How many runes will the first blood ritual use?" Viviane asked.
"Very few," Jack replied. "She is only three. The first ritual should be an introduction, not a flood. She will experience some numbness and a dull ache, but nothing sharp. We will increase the intensity gradually each year, depending on how well she tolerates it."
"Nine rituals in total," Aldric added. "One each year, from age three through eleven."
Elara spoke from her place near the corner.
"And the bath?"
"The morning of the ritual day, we will begin with the blood ritual," Jane explained. "Afterward, she will rest before taking the bath in the afternoon. She will remain in the vessel until the liquid clears."
"And we will all be there to watch," Celestine said. "Three meters away. Close enough to keep an eye on her, but far enough not to interfere."
Silence settled over the room again.
The fire crackled, and a log shifted in the hearth, sending a brief shower of sparks up the chimney.
Raphaël broke the silence.
"When will you tell her?"
Jane turned her gaze toward the fire.
"In a few days. Once she has had time to enjoy her birthday, we will explain that something is coming."
"She will ask if it hurts," Luelle said quietly.
There was no trace of her usual laughter or playful brightness in her voice now.
"Yes," Jane replied.
"What will you tell her?"
Jane remained silent for a moment, considering her answer.
"The truth. We will tell her that it might feel strange and that some parts may be uncomfortable. But we will also tell her that we will all be there, watching over her. And when it's over, she will be stronger."
Saoirse shifted slightly on the floor. Her expression had grown unusually serious.
"She already asked the portrait," she said. "The old one in the gallery. She wanted to know if it would hurt."
The room fell completely silent.
"She asked the portrait?" Luelle repeated.
"Jane found her there two days ago." Saoirse glanced toward her sister-in-law. "The portrait admitted it didn't know. But it also told her that Morwenna wasn't afraid."
Jane lowered her eyes, and when she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.
"She told me she wasn't afraid because all of us were here."
The fire popped, and another log shifted in the grate.
Aldric looked around the room, taking in the twelve faces gathered in the firelight. They had come from two countries and two different traditions, bringing their knowledge, magic, and experience together for the sake of one little girl.
"Then we are ready," he said at last. "The plans are settled. The ingredients are gathered, and the runes have been chosen. We know what comes next."
Celestine nodded.
"And we know why we are doing it."
No one needed to say Morwenna's name.
They remained together in the firelight, each of them carrying the same quiet determination. The preparations had been made, and the decisions had been settled. All that remained was to face the coming days together and ensure that when the time came, Morwenna would never have to face any of it alone.