Page 2 of Magical Mayhem (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #7)

A new day had dawned. The summer students would be here soon.

Keegan’s room was dim, lit only by a pair of lamps and the lazy fire Stella had insisted be kept burning for cheer. The curtains were drawn, though a thin slice of gray daylight pressed stubbornly through the gap.

Nova pushed the door open with her staff, and I followed, my sandals quiet on the stone floor.

Keegan sat propped against pillows, blanket thrown haphazardly across his legs. His eyes were sharp even in the low light, but the rest of him sagged, the way a man does when he’s spent every scrap of energy holding himself upright. His book was closed on the bedside table.

“You again,” he muttered when he saw us, his voice rough with fatigue. “You’ve made me into some invalid the Academy needs to babysit.”

“You’ve made yourself into someone stubborn enough to get himself killed,” Nova replied evenly, closing the door behind us.

His jaw flexed. “I don’t need a nursemaid. What I need is to get out of this cursed building and back to my own bed. I’d sleep better without the Academy humming over me like a beehive.”

I stepped closer, setting the bag of Stella’s brews on the table. “You wouldn’t make it to the front gates, Keegan. You’re not strong enough.”

His eyes cut to mine, hot and sharp. “Don’t tell me what I’m not.”

The words stung, though I knew they weren’t entirely his. Shadows threaded everything he said these days, twisting the edges. Still, I had to swallow hard before I could answer. “I’m telling you the truth. Even down the hall would lay you flat.”

He looked away, staring hard at the fire, but the tension in his jaw didn’t ease.

Nova moved to the window and tugged the curtain wider, letting more gray light in. “Complaining about your bed while the Wards strain around us seems a poor use of your breath, Wolf.”

“Easy for you to say,” Keegan snapped. “You don’t have to sleep in a mind that whispers all night.”

The paranoia had settled into him too easily.

He raked a hand through his hair, then turned back to us, his eyes narrowing. “So. Did she decide to show up again?”

My chest clenched as if he’d struck me. He didn’t have to say who he meant.

I forced my voice steady. “No. Not yet.”

His expression shuttered, as though he’d expected that answer all along but hated hearing it. “Figures.”

I moved closer, kneeling beside him so he had no choice but to look at me.

“Keegan… maybe her return is not the curse at work. Maybe it’s Stonewick itself, trying to heal.

Your mother’s return could mean the village is piecing itself back together with all the fae, shifter, and witch.

All of us. Maybe this is Stonewick’s way of making us whole again. ”

For a heartbeat, I thought I saw something soften in his eyes.

Hope, fragile and flickering? But then it vanished, replaced by a heat that made me flinch.

“At what cost?” he snapped.

The fire popped in the hearth, a spark leaping as though startled.

I sat back, throat tight. “What do you mean?”

His voice was sharp, too sharp. “Every time something comes back, something else is taken. My father’s absence is proof enough. And now you stand here telling me to be glad the Silver Wolf walks our lanes while my dad rots wherever he ran to? You want me to celebrate her return?”

“I want you to see it as more than just a wound being ripped open,” I said, my words trembling. “Your mother’s return could be a sign that the curse can be undone. That not everything is lost.”

He shook his head, jaw tight. “Lost isn’t the right word. Stolen, Maeve. Stonewick steals as much as it gives. Don’t dress it in prettier cloth.”

The bitterness in his tone twisted something deep inside. I reached for his hand, but he pulled it back under the blanket, out of reach.

This was not Keegan. He trusted Stonewick more than he trusted himself, and now? He despised the town he’d spent years trying to save.

None of it made sense, but I could see what went into building Gideon, bit by bit.

Nova’s staff tapped once against the floor, the sound sharp enough to split the tension.

“You are alive,” she said, her voice cutting but steady.

“Alive because Maeve believes enough to fight when you would rather sulk. If Stonewick is stitching itself together, then you can either curse the thread or help weave it. Choose wisely, Wolf.”

Keegan glared at her, but Nova’s gaze didn’t waver.

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. I sat there, my chest aching, torn between wanting to shake him and wanting to cradle him.

Finally, he leaned back against the pillows, closing his eyes. “Leave me.”

The words stung worse than a slap.

I stood slowly, gathering the tea bag back into my hands, holding it to my chest like a shield.

“I’ll come back with Stella’s brew later,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if he heard me.

Nova opened the door, handed me my cloak, and I followed her out.

When the door clicked shut behind us, I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to ease the ache there.

Nova’s presence was steady beside me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was watching Keegan unravel thread by thread, and I didn’t know how many stitches were left before the whole weave fell apart.

I leaned against the wall as the cool stone pressed into my back, and my lungs tightened.

“You were tough on him,” I said softly.

“I needed to be.” Nova stood beside me, staff resting lightly against her shoulder. Her raven-dark hair spilled down her back, catching the faint lamplight. For a while, she said nothing. She didn’t need to. Silence was her language, and I’d come to know its shapes.

Finally, I whispered, “He’s slipping.”

Nova inclined her head, slow, deliberate. “The curse has its claws deep in him. Every day, I see it burrowing further.”

My throat tightened. “I feel it, too. He’s… darker. Not always, not fully, but it’s there. In his voice. In his eyes.”

“And in his temper.”

I closed my eyes, the memory of his sharp words still cutting into me. “That wasn’t Keegan in there. Not all of him, anyway. Malore’s seed is twisting him more every day.”

Nova’s staff tapped once against the stone floor, the sound like punctuation to a truth I didn’t want to accept. “Half-measures do not break curses. They are clever. They wait until you believe you are strong enough to resist, and then they strike.”

I hugged Stella’s bag of tea to my chest like a talisman. “I can’t lose him, Nova. Not like this. Not while he’s still fighting.”

“You won’t,” she said firmly, though her green eyes softened. “But you must be prepared for how close you may come.”

The corridor stretched long and dim around us, the sconces flickering faintly. The Academy hummed restless underfoot. It felt as though the very walls were listening, waiting for me to admit what I already knew: time was running short.

“He’s changing by the day,” I said, my voice breaking. “And if the wolf in him loses to the shadow…”

Nova’s hand settled lightly on my arm, grounding. “Then we remind him who he is. Every hour, every breath. That is what love is, Maeve. It’s not blind faith. It’s relentless remembering.”

I nodded, swallowing the ache in my throat. “And if remembering isn’t enough?”

Her gaze sharpened, fierce and steady. “Then we use every weapon Stonewick gives us. Even the ones we fear.”

The words sent a shiver down my spine. I didn’t want to think about what she meant by the weapons.

Before I could answer, the low, resonant sound of the Academy’s bell rolled through the halls. Once, twice, then three clear peals, vibrating the stone beneath our feet.

I startled, clutching the bag tighter. “The students.”

Nova’s lips curved into the faintest wry smile. “Summer session begins.”

The bell echoed again, softer this time, like a heartbeat fading into the distance. And just like that, the heavy silence between us broke.

I straightened, pushing the ache of Keegan’s words down, down, into the place where all my hurts lived until there was time to tend them. “We have to greet them.”

“Yes,” Nova said, adjusting her grip on her staff. “They cannot arrive at shadows and silence. They must see safety. They must see us.”

The image struck me with unexpected force.

A group of midlife students, eager and nervous, arriving with satchels and hopes, expecting a summer of learning spells and tea by the fire.

They wouldn’t see the cracks in the Wards, or the shadows prowling at the edge of the village. Not if we did our jobs.

I forced a breath past the ache in my chest. “Then let’s give them the welcome they deserve.”

Nova inclined her head, and together we started down the hall, our footsteps echoing toward the gates.

The Academy’s hum seemed to shift as we walked, the tension loosening just slightly, as though it knew its halls would soon be filled again with chatter and life. But in the back of my mind, Keegan’s words lingered, sharp and unyielding.

At what cost?

I clutched the tea bag tighter and whispered to myself, so softly Nova didn’t hear, “Whatever it takes.”