Page 94 of Magical Mayhem

It was like being struck in the chest.

The fog swirled darker, thicker, and I stumbled forward. The chamber dissolved, and suddenly I was there at the moment Stonewick was divided.

I saw him standing in the clearing, with his arms outstretched, and shadows writhing like serpents at his command. His face was pale with strain, sweat dripping from his brow. And yet, beneath the grimace, I felt it.

Not triumph.

Not even satisfaction.

Loneliness.

It bled through the curse like ink spilled in water. He hadn’t just wanted to shatter Stonewick. He wanted Stonewick toseehim. To know his name. To remember.

The curse tore through the Wards, the land itself crying out, and I was swept up in the force of it. The shadows lashed, the village’s glow dimmed, and I felt his chest seize with a mix of agony and awe.

He whispered, though no one but the Hedge could have heard:Now they’ll never forget me.

The words scorched through me.

The scene shifted again.

Time spun forward.

Gideon now sat alone in a dark chamber, candlelight flickering across his sharp features. Scrolls and books piled around him, his eyes hollow with exhaustion. He wrote feverishly. Notes were scrawled in a language twisted and broken. He wasn’t just plotting a strategy. He was building walls. Walls of shadows, walls of lies, walls to keep the ache of silence at bay.

And still, even here, I felt it beneath every plan, every line of ink. The echo of a boy staring longingly at Stonewick’s lights, whispering to himself that someday he’d matter.

They have what is mine.

I stumbled back, shaking my head, my own breath ragged.

“Why, Gideon?” I whispered into the dreamlike dark. “Why this way?”

The Hedge pulsed, a low thrum like a heartbeat. And suddenly, he was there again, not the boy, not the plotting man, but Gideon as I knew him now.

Cold, handsome, shadows clinging like armor. But his eyes weren’t mocking or cruel. They were tired. So very tired.

“You still don’t understand,” he said, his voice rough, low, as though dragged from some deep cavern.

“Then tell me,” I urged. “Tell me the truth.”

His gaze locked on mine, and for a heartbeat I thought he might. But then the fog thickened, curling around him, pulling him away like smoke.

“No one ever wanted the truth,” he whispered.

My heart ached. “I do.”

But the fog swallowed him whole.

The Hedge shivered, the visions dissolving. The boy, the man, and the curse, they all scattered like leaves in a storm.

I was left floating in gray silence, the weight of his memories pressing heavily on my chest.

And I still didn’t have the answer. Not fully.

But I had a glimpse.

It wasn’t just power. It wasn’t just Malore.