Page 16 of Magical Mayhem

Maeve.

Softer this time.

Closer.

I clutched the stone harder, heart slamming, breath shallow, and still no figure stepped from the trees.

Only the silence. Only the voice. Only the Wilds that watched me tremble in its grip.

The cemetery stretched wider than I remembered, as though the Wilds had stretched it with the season.

I moved carefully, afraid my footsteps might disturb more than just earth. My skirts whispered against the grass. My heart whispered against my ribs.

What am I doing here?

The sensible part of me screamed to turn back, to return to the safety of students and tea and Stella’s scolding. But the voice, that terrible, irresistible voice, had tethered me here.

Maeve.

The syllable rippled through the hush like a pebble across still water.

I spun again, certain this time I would find someone leaning against a stone, waiting for me.

But there was nothing.

My throat tightened. “Am I losing my mind?”

The stones did not answer, but the silence felt… indulgent. As though the forest was allowing me to ask questions it already knew the answers to.

I pressed a hand to my birthmark, hot against my skin, and whispered, “I don’t want this.”

But the pull would not release me.

I hurried forward, roaming between markers, nearly tripping over vines that coiled low across the ground. My breath came faster, my pulse rising until I could hear it in my ears. Every name on every stone blurred, none offering recognition, none grounding me.

When I reached the far edge of the cemetery, I stopped abruptly.

The Wilds pressed close again, trees thick and dark, their branches locking together overhead like an arched doorway. The red mushrooms glowed brighter here, forming a line like a path leading back into the woods.

I swallowed as cold sweat beaded at the back of my neck.

“This is madness,” I whispered. “Absolute madness.”

But I stepped into the trees anyway.

The hush deepened, pressing against my ears until even my own breath sounded foreign. The moss was brighter, so vividly green it seemed almost painted. Wildflowers leaned toward me as I passed, petals trembling.

I forced my mind to stay steady, to remember the cozy song of the Academy, the way the tea shop smelled of lavender and lemon, the way Keegan’s laugh warmed me even when shadows darkened his eyes. Anything but the chill crawling along my spine now.

Then it happened.

My foot struck something soft but firm, and I pitched forward with a startled cry. I landed hard on my hands and knees, moss cushioning the blow but mushrooms popping under my palms.

Groaning, I pushed myself up and looked back.

A mushroom the size of a pillow lay where I’d tripped. Its cap glowed scarlet, rich and vivid, with silvery veins webbing across its surface. Spores puffed into the air like smoke, shimmering faintly as they drifted upward.

My stomach turned.