Page 85 of Magical Mayhem

And now, it was time to stop carrying everyone and start lifting them.

The shadows hissed outside the window, as though they’d heard the thought and didn’t like it one bit.

“Too bad,” I muttered, gathering the book to my chest. “You’ve had your turn. Now it’s ours.”

The sprites squealed with approval, scattering into the shelves as though the library itself agreed.

I stood, the book heavy in my hands, and walked toward the doors.

Stonewick wasn’t going to fall while its greatest asset, its people, still stood ready to fight.

And I was going to make sure they did.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The book weighed heavily in my arms as I climbed the stairs back toward Keegan’s room. The library still sang in my ears, book sprites squeaking triumphantly from the shadows as though I were carrying their prize.The Call of the Wild Ones.

But it wasn’t just about dragging Keegan’s mother into the open, or convincing Gideon to lend a reluctant hand, or even about me taking on more than I could possibly bear.

It was about the message.

Malore thrived on fear. He had always been a master of fractures—splitting families, splitting factions, splitting people apart from themselves. The curse wasn’t just a weapon; it was a reminder that Stonewick was weak, divided, unable to stand. When we defeated the first one, he was quick to divide again, but this time, he included his own puppet as well.

Gideon.

But maybe the answer wasn’t to outmaneuver him with some brilliant spell or hidden weapon. Perhaps the answer was to show him that his techniques were no longer effective. That the very thing he’d spent decades feeding on, his division, was unraveling. That Stonewick was stitching itself back together, stronger than before.

The Silver Wolf was just one thread in the process of unification and reuniting the clans.

But another piece was the midlife students laughing in the banquet hall, their forks clattering, their magic sparking wild and unpolished. So were the teachers, the sprites, and even the goblins with frying pans and tempers. The Academy wasn’t just standing again.

It wasbreathing and alive.

And Malore needed to see that.

By the time I reached Keegan’s door, my heart was hammering, and my conviction was sharper than it had been in days.

I knocked once, softly, then pushed the door open.

The fire in the hearth glowed low, casting long shadows across the wolf carvings on the bedframe. Keegan was propped up against the pillows, eyes half open, his breathing still rough but steadier than it had been.

Relief punched through me so hard my knees nearly buckled. He looked better, not good, but better. The gray pallor had eased from his skin, and his gaze sharpened when it landed on me.

“Maeve,” he rasped.

I shut the door behind me, crossing the room quickly. Nova and Ardetia weren’t here. That alone felt strange, as though someone had left me in charge of something I wasn’t qualified to handle.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He exhaled slowly, his lips quirking faintly. “Like I’ve been trampled by a herd of elk. But I’m upright.”

I chuckled softly, though my chest ached at the sound of his voice. “That’s progress.”

He studied me for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve got that look again.”

“What look?”

“The one you get when you’ve decided something reckless.”