NEW HOME/CASTLE
889 Words
Elora
We’re all packed, and the feeling sitting in my chest is… bittersweet.
I’ve seen the cottage already—Lysander showed us the images—but seeing it now, knowing it’s real, feels different. Cozy. Earthy. Lived-in already, somehow. Enough room for all of us. A home for Caspian’s family too. It’s only a three-minute walk away, not on pack grounds but still within the castle’s borders.
And I think—no, I know—that part is why my family is relieved.
It’s still just us.
Which makes me feel strange, because werewolves aren’t supposed to grow comfortable with isolation. We’re meant to be pack creatures. Community. Unity.
And then it hits me.
My family. The Merrows.
Us on our own has always felt like a pack. I think we survived everything because we had each other.
Fleur sighs, looking around the cottage we’re leaving behind. “I’m kind of going to miss this place. But I won’t complain about living on castle grounds. The house is beautiful.”
Seren zips up the last bag with a decisive tug. “I have everything packed. I’m honestly excited for my new room.”
I smile at her. “Really? You’re not going to miss this place too?”
I turn—and stop.
Mom is very obviously trying not to cry.
“Mom?” I step closer. “Are you okay?"
She exhales shakily. “My baby has a mate. My second baby is a healer. My third baby is still a baby. And we’re moving. That is a lot of change for one woman.”
She points toward the hallway. “I need space.”
And then she’s gone.
Jasper lifts his hands in surrender. “Hey, honey—”
“Not right now!” Fleur snaps from the other room.
I shrug, helpless. “Too many changes.”
He nods, understanding. “Too many changes.”
Then he frowns slightly. “Where’s your brother?”
Rowan barrels into the room like a storm. “I’m right here! I’m writing letters for the next family who moves here.”
Jasper blinks. “Welcome letters?”
Rowan grins. “Yes! Look, Daddy.”
Jasper reads aloud, squinting at the messy handwriting.
“To who ever mooves here, this house is hunted. There r ghost that will eat you so be safe. U will be fine.”
There’s a drawing of a ghost floating over someone’s bed.
I stare. “Rowan… that is not a welcome note.”
“It is!” he insists. “Lora!"
“It’s not. Are you trying to scare them?”
Rowan shakes his head, smiling innocently.
Jasper sighs. “Son, please write something nicer. And no pictures of people being attacked.”
Rowan groans. “Man. Okay, Dad.”
“And put your toys away before we leave.”
Seren, watching all of this quietly, murmurs again, almost to herself, “I’m really excited for my new room.”
A while later, we pull away from the only home we’ve ever known.
The gates loom ahead, tall and ornate. Jasper gives our names, and they open smoothly.
I didn’t realize just how massive the castle grounds were until now—west wing, east wing, paths stretching farther than I can see, cottages tucked away like secrets.
I’m definitely going to get lost.
Lysander is waiting in front of the house.
He’s smiling. Waving.
My heart stumbles.
“Oh,” I mutter. “He didn’t tell me he’d be waiting out front.”
Mom smirks. “How sweet. I think he already can’t stay away.”
“Gross,” Rowan says immediately.
“Disgusting,” Seren agrees.
I bury my face in my hands. “Ugh, Mom.”
The moment I step out of the car, Lysander pulls me into a warm, grounding hug.
“I didn’t know you’d be waiting,” I say softly.
“Is that okay?” he asks. “I thought I’d help.”
“Of course it’s okay.”
Another car pulls up behind us.
Uncle Caspian climbs out first, all easy confidence and crooked smiles, followed by Aunt Odette and their twins—Reagan and Rosalie—already mid-argument about who gets out first.
“Reagan! Rosalie!” Rowan shouts. “Let’s play!”
The twins light up and bolt toward him.
Caspian grins at me. “Well. If it isn’t Princess Elora.”
I grimace. “Oh goodness, no.”
He laughs, pleased with himself, then turns to Lysander. “I didn’t get the chance to thank you properly. We appreciate the offer. Truly.”
Lysander nods. “It’s no trouble.”
Caspian claps his hands together. “Now that that’s out of the way—”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out chocolate bars.
Rowan’s eyes go wide.
“So,” Caspian continues casually, “Rowan was very proud of his blackmail skills. Thought I’d help him think long-term.” He leans in, stage-whispering, then pats Lysander’s shoulder. “I’d hate for Jasper to find out Elora’s been kissing boys.”
Lysander freezes.
Completely, utterly caught off guard.
I groan. “Uncle Caspian.”
He just winks.
And somehow, standing there with my family, laughter echoing across the cottage grounds, the weight in my chest eases.
Maybe this isn’t an ending.
Maybe it’s a beginning.
- Writer
