Hana

Hana's POV

 

The bag sat between us on the old cedar table, humming faintly with leftover magic. I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed tight over my chest, glaring at it like it might sprout fangs.

“I nearly got myself killed over that,” I muttered. “What exactly was I carrying? It reeked of power.”

Grandma didn’t answer right away; rather, she sat like an ancient queen with her long, black hair, braided to the side, and bits of gray in it. She was busy picking her teeth with a carved bone pick, like this was a lazy evening after dinner, instead of my personal meltdown.

Which she caused.

Finally, she gave this low, rattling chuckle, like dry leaves tumbling down the sidewalk on a windy day.

“Oh, my darling little firefly,” she rasped, her voice somehow both older yet young and teasing, crackling with mischief. “You think the world would entrust you with something truly dangerous? No, no. What you carried…”

She leaned forward, lowering her voice like she was about to share the secrets of the cosmos. Against my better judgment, I leaned in too.

“…was beans.”

I blinked. “…Beans?”

Her palm smacked the table, and she wheezed with laughter, shoulders shaking. “Magic beans! Old things got dumped into a potion that one of the young witches was making, and well, now we have magic beans! The enchantment clings, making them feel grander than they are. A bag of noisy legumes, child, and you thought it was something far grander.”

My chair screeched back as I stood, heat rushing to my face. “You sent me into Duskreach to deliver beans?”

Her grin only widened, eyes bright with that ageless mischief that made her seem more trickster than matriarch. “Not to deliver beans. For you. The errand was never about the bag, Hana. It was about whether you’d leave the shadows at all. You’ve kept yourself hidden far too long, skulking in the bars, in the Shadows and safe corners of the library. Duskreach is a beast, and beasts must be stared down before they swallow you whole.”

My jaw tightened. “I’ve been to Duskreach.”

“Mm. In the daylight for quick errands. You never stayed where the city breathes. Not where the drunks sing their sorrows, or blades gleam in alleys, or power is traded in whispers. You don’t know Duskreach, child. Not yet. You were taught the history of our world, the history of our own city, and the history of Duskreach. But you never really truly faced anything; the magic beasts of these lands are true beasts, yes. But the true beasts are those in power.”

Her tone shifted, her smile fading, and for a moment I glimpsed the side of her that she only shows every so often. The one who sounded like she’d lived through a thousand lives and carried everything she did and saw in her bones.

“I don’t need lessons in danger,” I snapped, though my pulse betrayed me. Flashes from earlier tonight clawed at me, humans, fangs, Cael’s hand gripping mine, the feeling of his skin humming under my skin like a second heartbeat.

Her smirk was sharp, knowing, as if she plucked the thought right out of my skull. “And yet, you returned. Alive. And with more than beans in your bag. You carried your fear out of Duskreach, little firefly. That was the true test.”

I ground my teeth. “…You could’ve just told me to go into the city.”

“Ha!” She flicked her hand at me. “And you would’ve locked your door and buried yourself in books. You think I don’t know you?”

She rose, joints popping like snapping branches, and padded over to the fireplace. With a flick of her fingers, she tossed one of the beans into the flames. The fire roared green for a heartbeat before settling back to orange.

“See? Potent. Useless, but potent. Rather like yourself, at the moment.”

I shoved my hands against the table and pushed to my feet. “I’m not a child to be toyed with.”

"No," she said, her voice low and solemn. For the first time, her eyes were stripped of mischief, revealing something deep and formidable, a shadow from some war-torn past she never discussed, one I could barely imagine. "You're not. That's why the world has to know you. This world devours the timid. You need to walk its streets until your name is part of its pulse."

The fire snapped. The weight of her gaze pressed against my chest until I thought I might crack open.

And then just like that she winked. The spell broke. She plucked another bean from the bag and popped it in her mouth with a loud, crunchy bite.

“Besides,” she said around the chew, voice muffled, “they’re delicious.”