Page 124 of Magical Mayhem

Keegan’s fury filled the corridor, raw and unbridled, and I could feel the shadows pressing closer as if Malore himself wanted to taste it.

His hazel eyes blazed, flickering with the wolf fighting to burst free.

And in that silence, in that unbearable pause, I realized that we were running out of time.

Not just with the curse. Not just with Gideon. But with Keegan.

With the prospect of unity.

Because grief like this doesn’t wait for the right moment. It breaks you open, whether the battle is finished or not.

And if we couldn’t find a way to stitch these wounds before Malore came again, we might not survive the next strike.

The corridor hummed with silence so sharp it might have cut stone.

I didn’t know what to say or do. My heart still thundered in my chest, torn between wanting to reach for Keegan and wanting to shield him from more wounds. Twobble muttered something under his breath about needing pie in moments like these, and Skonk elbowed him into blessed silence.

Then Stella swept in.

Her shawl trailed behind her, bracelets jingling sharp as bells, her lips pressed tight in a way that made the air itself stand straighter. She stopped dead in the middle of us all, taking in the tableau—the silver-haired woman, Elira’s spectral glow, Keegan barely holding himself upright, and the two goblins skulking like children caught with stolen sweets.

“What in the ever-loving names of tea and tartlets is going on here?” Stella demanded.

“Family drama,” Twobble blurted before I could speak, his crumbs scattering like confetti. “You know, the usual.”

Stella’s eyes snapped to him, sharper than a knife. “Family drama?”

Twobble wilted, tugging his collar. “Uh, yes? Don’t worry, we were just about to braid each other’s hair and sing lullabies.”

“Twobble,” I hissed, mortified.

But Stella ignored me. She scowled at him so fiercely that even Skonk shuffled back half a step, and her gaze cut to me, cool and unflinching.

“Maeve,” she said, her tone stripped of its usual dramatic flourish. “Have you not seen the skies? Have you not looked out the windows?”

I blinked, my stomach dropping like a stone into water. I’d been so consumed with Keegan, with his mother, with the revelations clawing their way through us, that I hadn’t looked outside once.

Twobble, however, threw his arms wide with a flourish. “Uh, we’ve been abitbusy here trying to hammer out some family issues.”

“Twobble!” I warned.

Stella didn’t so much as blink. “Drama is a luxury we don’t have time for right now.”

Something in her tone set my nerves jangling. I turned fully toward her, pressing my palm against the wall to steady myself. “What do you mean?”

Was that why Keegan felt the pull?

Stella’s eyes softened, just slightly, when they met mine. Then she stepped closer, lowering her voice so the words landed squarely between us, though everyone leaned in to hear them anyway.

“Malore is getting restless.”

The name hissed like steam through the corridor, and the air grew colder in its wake.

My stomach clenched, a fist tightening deep inside.

“Restless?” I asked, though the dread already twisted thick in my throat.

Stella nodded, her bracelets clinking with the motion. “The skies are splitting like seams under strain. His face has been flickering in the fog above Stonewick for the last ten minutes. He’s pressing harder, testing the Wards.”