Page 1 of Magical Mayhem (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #7)

The bell above the door chimed softly, and a summer fragrance rushed over me, filled with dried roses, lemon, and crushed mint, along with the sharper tang of something Stella called a focus blend, which smelled suspiciously like black pepper and sage.

She’d started making it for me the moment Keegan confessed that his mom had returned.

The shelves along the walls gleamed in the dim light, lined with glass jars of colorful tea leaves and blossoms. Little handwritten labels curled on each one: Moonlit Comfort, Earl of Night, Chamomile for the Truly Doomed.

I smiled despite myself. Even with everything going on, Stella managed to change out her seasonal teas.

Stella had outdone herself today. The round table near the hearth was draped with embroidered linen detailed with vines and wildflowers. The centerpiece was a tall glass jar stuffed with sprigs of lavender and rosemary. Candles flickered in mismatched glass holders.

A pot of something rich and spicy steamed on the table. Its aroma curled through the room like a promise, and I needed that desperately.

Nova was already seated, her raven hair falling loose over her shoulders, green eyes sharp even in rest.

Ember glowed faintly in the corner chair, her presence dimmed to a soft gray-green, respectful of the cozy light. I spotted Ardetia perched gracefully with her long fingers wrapped around a teacup, looking as though she belonged in a painting.

Bella sat on the rug, her fox ears twitching every time the bell over the shop door moved with a draft.

And Twobble, dear, exasperating Twobble, was already halfway through a plate of scones. Skonk had returned to his cottage in the UnderSoot to catch up on goblin things, as he put it.

Stella herself bustled between us, draping her shawl in a way that suggested she wanted it to be noticed and then pretending she hadn’t.

“Finally,” she said as she poured my cup before I’d even sat down. “You look pale. Tea will fix it.”

“I’ve been told tea fixes everything,” I murmured, sliding into the chair next to Nova.

“By me,” Stella sniffed, setting the pot back down with a clink. “And I’m rarely wrong.”

Nova arched a brow but didn’t argue.

For a few minutes, we let the comfort of the tea do its work. Ember poured herself a second cup, her translucent hands as graceful as ever. At the same time, Ardetia nibbled at a sugared biscuit with the kind of elegance that made even crumbs look intentional. I’d never had that grace.

At times, I thought I wanted to achieve that aura, but being surrounded by it so much is actually exhausting, so I could only imagine what it must feel like to be that proper.

Bella’s tail swished lazily behind her, brushing against my ankle now and then.

It almost felt normal.

Almost.

But then Twobble cleared his throat, scattering food morsels like confetti. “So. Are we going to talk about the wolf in the room?”

“Twobble.” Ardetia warned, sighing.

“I don’t mean literal wolf,” he said quickly, though his eyes darted toward me with something that wasn’t quite a question and wasn’t quite comfort either. “But since Keegan nearly fell on his face the other night and hasn’t gotten up since, I think we ought to…”

“Mind your tone,” Nova said, her voice calm but edgy, glancing at the customers.

“I am minding it,” Twobble protested. “This is me being delicate.”

Stella pressed a fresh cup into my hands before I could answer. “He’s resting, as he should. For once, he admitted something instead of growling through it. That would exhaust anyone.”

Her words warmed me even as worry knotted my chest. The memory of Keegan slumped in the chair, the truth spilling from him like something pried loose, still haunted me.

His mother.

The Silver Wolf.

How many years had he carried that knowledge like a weight chained to his ribs? She and his father abandoned him, abandoned the village, magic, and everything in between.

“He needs more than rest,” Nova said softly. “He needs time.”

“And he’ll have it,” Ember added gently. “We can hold things together.”

Ardetia set her cup down with a quiet clink. “But only for so long. The students return tomorrow for the summer session. They will notice the strain if we do not do a good job of hiding things as best we can.”

Silence settled over the table for a moment, heavy as soaked wool.

The students.

I had nearly forgotten. Though, how could I?

Dozens of midlife witches, shifters, and fae, bright-eyed, eager, some barely into perimenopause and others far exceeding it, were due back through the Academy’s gates.

They would expect lessons, protection, and a sanctuary that felt whole and complete.

Not an Academy with shadows pressing at its Wards and one of its strongest guardians lying pale and exhausted.

“Let’s get some privacy in here,” Stella said, eyeing Ember.

Our friendly haunt grinned and nodded as she moved from our table and over to the last remaining table with customers.

She picked up their empty tea cups and moved them to the counter.

It was hard to keep a straight face as the two people jumped up so fast that they nearly knocked over the table, grabbed their bags, and jetted out of the tea shop quicker than a vampire hunting its prey.

“That ought to get me a five-star for authenticity,” Stella said with a giggle.

Ember sat down and nodded, chuckling. “Glad I could be of service.”

Her ghostly maneuvers were always impressive and often quite funny.

Nova snapped her fingers at the door, which locked itself as the Open sign turned to Closed.

I wrapped my hands tighter around my cup. “We’ll have to keep it together for the students. They can’t see how frayed the threads are.”

Stella gave me a pointed look. “That’s always the way, isn’t it? We paste on a smile, pour another pot, and make sure the students feel safe. Meanwhile, the rest of us bleed into our shawls.”

“That’s a little dramatic,” I said, grinning as Bella transformed into her human form.

Stella’s dramatic sigh almost earned a smile from me.

Almost.

Bella nudged my arm with hers. “She’s right, though. We can’t let the students feel the fear. They’ll be looking to you, Maeve. To all of us.”

“To Keegan, too,” I whispered before I could stop myself.

The words cracked something in me. They all heard it. Stella set her hand over mine, firm and cool. “Then we hold the line until he can stand again.”

Her certainty steadied me. Around us, the tea shop hummed with its usual quiet magic, the faint rattle of a summer breeze at the windows, and the clink of spoons in porcelain. It was so cozy, so ordinary, that it almost made me forget what loomed overhead.

I glanced toward the window. Outside, the lanterns swung gently, their light golden on the stone sidewalks.

Tourists ambled with baskets of pastries, couples clasped hands, and children darted with ribbons of laughter. From here, you’d never know the sky’s gray weight wasn’t just weather.

My chest ached with nostalgia. When I’d first arrived here, all I’d wanted was this. A little magic, a little tea, and something simple was all I needed.

Now everything felt like a prelude to war.

I didn’t realize I’d sighed aloud until Stella stood behind me and rested her hand lightly on my shoulder.

Her voice was low, softer than I’d ever heard it. “It will come back someday, Maeve. The tea, the laughter, the simpler days. This isn’t forever.”

I looked back at her, my throat tight. “Do you believe that?”

Her eyes, old and wise and fiercely alive, held mine. “I’ve lived through worse storms. Shadows stretch, but the light always outshines them. And once they do, life returns. Sweet, ordinary, stubborn life.”

The words sank into me like honey poured into hot tea. I breathed in slowly and steadily, letting them fill the cracks inside me.

Maybe she was right. Someday, Stonewick would be only tea and gossip again. But until then, we’d have to hold the line together.

Stella refilled my cup before I could ask, as though she could sense my thoughts running ragged.

“It’s curious, isn’t it?” Ardetia said suddenly, her voice lilting and smooth. “That the Silver Wolf returns but not her mate. Not the other one who left Keegan and Stonewick both.”

Her words dropped into the room like a stone into water.

Nova lifted her eyes from her tea. “It is more than curious. It is deliberate.”

Bella’s ears twitched, her tail flicking once. “You mean the Academy, or Stonewick itself, chose her?”

“The Wards are alive,” Nova said evenly. “The land is alive. And Stonewick has always had a will. Perhaps it is pulling back what it thinks we need most.”

“A strong female.” Bella nodded.

I swallowed hard. “Or it has nothing to do with Stonewick and everything to do with his mother finally coming to her senses.”

The table went still. Even Twobble paused with a half-eaten scone in his hand.

“But then why not his dad?” Twobble asked.

I nodded, wondering the same thing.

Stella leaned her elbows on the table, her shawl falling into elegant folds. “Because, darling, his father never stayed long enough to belong.”

I looked at her, startled. “You sound so certain.”

“I am.” Her painted lips curved faintly, though there was no humor in it.

“I was here when Keegan was small. His father was always flitting about, even then, coming and going, never settling, never putting down roots. Roots don’t grow in soil that refuses them.

Nor do they grow when they’re always being uplifted.

Stonewick doesn’t call back what was never truly its own. ”

“But his mom grew up here,” Nova added.

Ember, who had been silent until now, leaned forward, her glow softening the candlelight. “That does not mean he is gone forever. Only that Stonewick did not call him, or his wife decided to follow her own heart. Perhaps the land remembered the mother’s strength and the father’s absence.”

Twobble broke the hush with a snort. “Or maybe Stonewick’s just bad at matchmaking. Call back one half of the couple and forget the other? Sloppy work, if you ask me.”

“Fortunately, no one did,” Stella said dryly, plucking the scone from his hand before he could finish it.

“Hey!” Twobble protested, but the scolding look she gave him had him slumping back in his chair. “Fine. Take my food. I’ll waste away dramatically in the corner.”

Bella rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. “You’d eat the stone in the corner if it were buttered.”

Their bickering eased the tension, but my thoughts clung stubbornly to Stella’s words.

Roots.

Belonging.

The Silver Wolf had returned, not because she was convenient, but because Stonewick itself had called her back.

Or maybe Keegan had, and he didn’t even know it…

All those nights looking up to the moon for answers and putting out calls.

Maybe the one who needed to hear it most did.

Ardetia’s gaze slid toward me, her eyes thoughtful, too sharp to be comfortable. “You realize what it means, Maeve.”

I set my cup down carefully. “What?”

“That the land is weaving itself together again with fae, shifter, and witch as all the threads return to the same tapestry. It’s quite magnificent.

We’ve already started to witness it within the Academy walls.

First, the teachers of fae, witches, and shifters united, and then came the students.

And then we had more teachers arrive, like Lemonia, Lara, and Petrah. ”

“The town is ready,” Stella said in agreement. “No more divides.”

Nova gave a slow nod. “The Wards cannot be restored piecemeal. If the new curse is to be broken, all factions must return. Perhaps this is the beginning.”

The words landed heavily in my chest.

“But it’s not just stitching itself together, is it? Something, someone, is pulling the thread.”

“And pushing it.”

Stella’s eyes narrowed. “And Malore is worried.”

The name dropped into the space like ice, and summer’s warmth did little to defrost anything.

She continued. “Do not confuse ally with enemy too quickly, or vice versa. Not everything that returns is corruption, and not everything that returns is virtuous. Some returns might be only to mend or blind.”

Her words stirred an image inside of me, with silver fur rippling in the dusk, eyes like molten ice staring into mine. Watching. Waiting.

“If Stonewick is mending,” I said slowly as my throat tightened. “What does that say about the man who left?”

Nova’s gaze softened, but her words carried no comfort. “That some truths are not yet ready to return and may never be.”

“How do you return to a son you abandoned?” Stella shrugged. “It takes more courage to return than to leave at that point.”

The silence pressed heavier than before. I stared into my tea, watching the color swirl, desperate to ground myself in something ordinary.

Twobble shifted noisily, breaking the spell. “Well, if the village is taking requests, I’d like a new pie shop to appear. One that doesn’t run out of apple crumble before I get there. Has anyone else noticed that issue?”

Bella groaned. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Twobble huffed. “If we’re talking about destiny and threads and curses, then someone ought to be taking orders. Balance, Maeve. The universe loves balance.”

Laughter bubbled up despite the ache in my chest. Even Nova’s lips twitched.

Stella waved a hand, smirking. “You’ll get your pie, goblin. For now, hush and let the grown-ups plot.”

“How rude.” He scowled. “I’m older than most here.”

“Wouldn’t know it,” Stella chided.

He muttered under his breath but reached for another scone anyway.

The warmth in the shop swelled again, steadier now, though the shadows still lingered outside the room. Stella poured another round of tea, her bracelets clinking softly.

Ardetia lifted her cup with delicate fingers. “If the Silver Wolf has returned, then she is a piece of the answer. Perhaps not the whole, but a beginning.”

“Keegan’s beginning,” I murmured, almost to myself.

“Or end,” Twobble said, shaking his head. “Hard to know.”

“Yes,” Nova agreed solemnly.

The words hit me hard as I tried to focus on the bigger picture, but the pain in Keegan’s gaze haunted me every second.

“No such thing,” Stella said, shaking her head. “That man is as stubborn as they come. He’ll see this through. He’ll be at Maeve’s side once more.”

Outside the window, the village bustled on, oblivious to the storm coiling above it. But here, in this little shop that smelled of everything cozy and sweet, I felt the faintest tug of hope.

Stonewick was stitching itself back together. Whether for healing or for ruin, I didn’t know. But the needle had already pierced the fabric. The thread was pulling tight.

But the Silver Wolf was only the first stitch.