Page 88 of Magical Mayhem

His laugh was hollow. “Don’t waste pity on me. If I die, no one will care.”

The words struck like a lash. I almost denied it, but they rang too close to truth.

And it shouldn’t have bothered me.

He was the enemy.

Gideon was the one who had nearly broken Stonewick. The one who had twisted shadows into chains, cursed my dad and Keegan the first time.

But the image of him lying in the inn, his chest rising shallowly, shadows coiling tightly around him, tangled with this dream version, and his cracked voice and hollow eyes.

The thought that no one would notice, that he would slip into nothing, forgotten, that pierced deeper than I wanted to admit.

“Is that why?” I asked quietly.

He blinked.

“Is that why you did it?” I pressed, my dream-self trembling as the words spilled. “When you cast the curse? Was it because you wanted to be remembered? Because you thought no one cared?”

His eyes snapped to mine, a storm flaring in them. “You think I destroyed Stonewick for attention?”

“I think,” I whispered, “that you didn’t want to disappear.”

The silence between us roared, louder than any argument.

His shoulders sagged, and for the first time, I saw something flicker there, not anger, not arrogance, but fear.

“You don’t understand,” he murmured. “No one ever understands.”

“Then tell me,” I urged. “For once in your life, justsay it.”

The shadows around us thickened, curling like smoke, muting the edges of his form until he looked more nightmare than man. But his voice cut through anyway, low and broken.

“I didn’t want to be forgotten.” His eyes locked on mine. “And after what was taken from me, I surely would.”

The words clanged inside me like a tolling bell.

That was it, wasn’t it? All the cruelty, the destruction, the curse itself was rooted in that hunger. Not for power. Not for victory. For memory. And loss.

He wanted to matter.

But what was taken from him?

And though everything in me screamed that I should not care, that I should never let such a confession take root, my chest ached anyway. Because hadn’t I, too, feared vanishing into nothing? Hadn’t I worried, after Alex left, after Celeste grew up, after my own life crumbled, that maybe I was already fading? That maybe no one would remember me if I didn’t fight for something bigger?

“Gideon,” I whispered, my voice catching.

His gaze softened for a fraction of a heartbeat, and I saw, not the Mage, not the enemy, but the boy he must have been before shadows sank their teeth into him.

The dream warped, the air vibrated, the ground beneath me cracked like glass. His form blurred, his voice echoing.

“Remember me.”

I gasped, trying to reach for him, but the shadows surged like a wave, pulling him back, drowning him.

The darkness collapsed around me.

And then…