Page 100 of Magical Mayhem

And though I knew things were only just beginning, though shadows still writhed over Stonewick and Malore’s laugh lingered in the distance, I let myself surrender to rest.

Because tomorrow, I would need every ounce of strength I had.

Chapter Thirty

When I woke, for a moment I thought I’d been under a spell. My body was so light, my mind so clear, it felt as though I’d slept not for hours but for a century.

I blinked against the dim light spilling through the loft window. Summer should have been streaming in with golden beams splashing across the quilt, the air warm with the sounds of birds’ chirping. But the shadows clinging to the sky hadn’t loosened their grip overnight. The light that seeped through was dulled, tinged gray, as though October had elbowed its way into July.

Still, it didn’t weaken me.

I stretched, the quilt slipping to the floor, and let myself savor the rare sensation of energy buzzing in my veins. I hadn’t realized how deeply exhaustion had rooted in me until it was gone, if only temporarily.

“Up,” I whispered to myself, tossing my legs over the side of the bed. “Today, we move forward.”

The washroom was cool, steam rising quickly as I turned on the shower. I let the water sluice over me, hot and sharp, rinsing away the clinging heaviness of the Hedge, the bitter cold of Gideon’s memories, the dread of shadows pressing outside.

By the time I toweled off and dressed in simple trousers, a linen shirt, and boots with enough give to run if I had to, I felt steadier and sharper.

I had things to do.

The quicker I got to the Academy, the closer we were to ending this once and for all.

I strapped on my cloak, tightened the laces, and moved toward the shed at the edge of the garden.

From the outside, it was nothing more than a ramshackle building, half-covered in ivy from summer’s warm temps. Its roof perpetually sagged no matter how many times Twobble claimed to shore it up. The wooden door groaned as I pulled it open, and the scent of soil and moss rushed out to meet me.

Inside, the shelves were cluttered with gardening tools, empty pots, and baskets of dried herbs. But it was the entrance at the far corner that mattered.

The goblin tunnel.

Twobble had shown me, grinning ear to ear, as if inviting me into a grand prank. It seemed like the most direct and discreet route to reach the Academy without walking through town or the woods under the weight of those watchful shadows.

I knelt, pressing my palm against the entrance. The stone was cool, humming faintly, and after a moment it gave a shudder and slid aside with a grinding sigh.

The tunnel yawned below, dark and earthy, but oddly inviting. A narrow ladder descended into the soil.

I muttered under my breath, “Trust the goblins, Maeve. If anyone knows how to tunnel, it’s them.”

The air grew cooler as I climbed down, the scent of rich, earthy soil grounding me. My boots touched solid soil, and I pulled the lantern from its hook on the wall. It sputtered to life, casting flickering light across the tunnel walls.

The path was narrow and roots dangled from above like bony fingers, and water dripped rhythmically in the distance.

Yet, for all its shadows, there was comfort here. The goblins had carved these passages with care, their stonework sturdy, the walls marked with crude runes that blinked faintly with magic.

I walked quickly, the goblin gold guiding me through with my thoughts racing.

Keegan, pale but fighting. Gideon, slipping but tethered. My father, caught in all of it. My mother, back when I least expected her. And me, stuck in the middle, trying to stitch them all into one tapestry before Malore tore it apart.

My boots scuffed against the dirt, and the tunnel bent sharply. A faint draft brushed my cheek, and after several more turns, the tunnel slanted upward. Another ladder appeared, this one carved of gnarled wood, polished by decades of goblin hands. I hadn’t used this exit before, but I recalled Twobble mentioning it was a good option.

I climbed, pushing against the trapdoor at the top.

It opened with a soft creak, letting in filtered daylight.

I emerged into the small grove of trees that ringed the back of the Academy’s property. I dusted soil from my pants and straightened, breathing in the air. Even dulled by shadows, the Academy’s grounds vibrated with life.

Students’ voices carried across the courtyard. Midlife witches chatted and laughed, with their energy as stubborn as it was bright.