Page 98 of Magical Mayhem

We fell silent again. The air droned as though the shadows themselves were considering what we had spoken.

I stared at him, my chest aching. “If it was loneliness that drove him… if that was the root Malore used… then what does that mean for us now? For the circle?”

Nova lifted her chin. “It means Malore’s weapon is not simply power. It is truth twisted into chains. And if we are to stand against him, we must be prepared to unbind those truths, even when it is painful.”

The words hit hard, but they rang true.

I let out a shuddering breath.

Keegan.

Gideon.

My father.

Myself.

We were all tethered to this path, bound by curses and bloodlines and choices we didn’t ask for. And now, if we wanted Stonewick to survive, we would have to stand together, not just in power, but in truth.

The thought terrified me.

Because I wasn’t sure which truth would break us first.

Nova’s hand tightened briefly on my arm, grounding me.

“Rest,” she said softly, though there was no command in her tone, only concern. “You’ve carried more than anyone should in one night.”

I shook my head, though the weight in my bones agreed with her. “I can’t. Not yet.”

Her green eyes softened, but she didn’t argue. She only glanced at Gideon again, her lips pressing into a line.

“Then hold to this,” she said. “You pulled at the edges of Malore’s work and found the seam. That matters.”

I nodded faintly, though exhaustion pressed down hard. My gaze lingered on Gideon’s face, and I studied the curve of his jaw, sharp even in weakness, the storm that still haunted his brow. He had been handsome, still was in some terrible way. But it was a beauty warped by darkness, carved by choices he had made or had been tricked into making.

And yet… I couldn’t unsee the boy staring out at Stonewick’s lights, desperate to belong.

That was the truth Malore had used.

The room hummed around me, the shadows tugging faintly at my edges like they weren’t quite ready to let go. Gideon’s steadying breath should have been a relief, but it only made the weight in my chest heavier.

Nova still knelt beside me, her hand cool and steady against my arm. She studied me, her green eyes sharp but not unkind.

“You’re pale,” she said simply. “Too pale. Whatever you did, it drained you.”

I forced a smile. “It’s nothing.”

Her brow arched. “Maeve, you look like a candle burned at both ends. And halfway through the middle for good measure. You need sleep.”

I wanted to argue, to tell her there wasn’t time. Malore was watching, Keegan was suffering, Gideon was barely holding onto life. Sleep felt indulgent. Dangerous.

But my body betrayed me. My hands trembled as I tried to steady them. My head ached from the pull of the Hedge.

Nova’s gaze softened.

“Even two hours,” she pressed gently. “That much, at least. You can’t hold Stonewick if you collapse.”

Her words landed like a scolding and a comfort all at once.