All Chapters of Salt and Starlight: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The fire crackled softly, throwing light across the runes that still faintly glowed along the beams. Their silver edges pulsed beneath the wood as though remembering hands that carved them long before Rowan ever breathed the same air.Lucien rested his hands before him, palms open, the mark on his wrist glinting like a half-healed scar. He rarely let her see it so clearly. Tonight, he wasn’t hiding much at all.“My family—the Lunar Line—once guarded the Moon’s power. We lived by her light, and we enforced her laws. Your family—the Blackwells—were her heart. They carried the gift that gives life to the world. Creation and order.”Rowan frowned slightly, not understanding how something so ancient could belong to her and her alone now. “Then why would that make us enemies?”“Because together,” he said, “we were perfect.”The flames shifted with his words, as though the fire knew the past better than the two of them combined. Lucien’s eyes reflected the light like he was staring into anot

Morning came soft and silver.Fog wrapped the cliffs so thickly that the sea was little more than a whisper below. The air tasted faintly metallic, like rain before lightning. The horizon had vanished; there was only white, pressed close to the cottage as if the world had been folded in on itself.Rowan stood on the porch, one hand resting on the railing, watching the mist shift and swirl. The wood beneath her palm felt faintly warm, the cottage breathing under her touch. Windy paced near her feet, tail stiff, fur raised in a way that made the small hairs on Rowan’s arms rise too.“What is it, girl?”Windy’s ears flicked forward. She gave a low, warning growl that vibrated in her chest more than in the air.Rowan peered into the fog, squinting. Shapes moved and un-moved out there—maybe shrubs, maybe rocks, maybe nothing at all. She’d known enough nights filled with real danger to trust the difference between her own fear and Windy’s.“Okay,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone.

The fog did not return the next day, but the unease stayed.Lucien spent the morning carving symbols into smooth stones from the beach, setting them in a ring around the cottage. The runes shimmered briefly each time he spoke their names. Rowan followed, scattering salt and herbs between them as he showed her how to “feed” the wards—small acts of care that kept the magic alive.“Why salt?” she asked.“It remembers the ocean,” he said. “Everything that’s ever lived in it listens to salt. It’s the oldest boundary there is.”Windy paced the perimeter, watching each placement with serious eyes. Every time Rowan bent to scatter rosemary or ash, Windy checked behind her, nose low, as if expecting something to step out of the grass when her back was turned.When they finished, the cottage felt different—tighter, wrapped in invisible threads. Rowan breathed out slowly, feeling the magic settle like a net pulled snug.She looked toward the sea. “Will it be enough?”Lucien didn’t answer immedia

The snow still covered the cliffs when Rowan began to dream again.At first it was soft—white light and the hush of wind through glass. Then the air thickened, and she realized she was standing ankle-deep in water. The surface shone like a mirror, reflecting the moon and nothing else. Her breath misted across the silver stillness, but her reflection did not breathe with her.“Lucien?” she whispered. Her voice echoed far away, as if the world itself were listening.No answer.Windy stood beside her, perfectly calm. Her reflection, though, was wrong—the dog’s eyes glowed silver, and her shadow rippled as if it were made of wings. Feathers twitched along the silhouette, dark and gleaming.Rowan took a step forward. The water didn’t ripple; it moved with her, parting and revealing patterns carved into the glassy surface—spirals, moons, and names she didn’t recognize. Her skin prickled. These symbols were older than language. Older than fear.Then she saw her own reflection blink when she

Winter came softly to Mystic.By early December, the harbor was lined with garlands and lanterns. The smell of pine and woodsmoke drifted through every street. Snow gathered on the eaves of the old shops, and the world glowed gold in the evenings as strings of warm lights reflected on the dark, glassy water.Rowan walked through town with Windy at her side, her breath forming small clouds in the cold air. She’d tucked her scarf under her chin, cheeks pink from the chill. People waved to her now—smiles that reached their eyes, greetings that felt genuine.Mrs. Alden from Moon’s End Books pressed a small bundle of cinnamon sticks into Rowan’s hand and said, “For luck, dear.” Rowan thanked her, warmed in a way that had nothing to do with temperature.The warmth of it all felt fragile, like glass in her hands.She paused outside Selunara’s Grace Bakery, watching Mirabel Hallow decorate the window with silver stars. The friendly woman’s laughter carried through the glass as she chatted wit