Page 20 of Magical Mayhem (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #7)

Nova led me down a quieter wing of the Academy, and the sconces dimmed as if bowing us through. The runes along the walls thrummed in low notes, uneasy with the shadows gathering outside.

Her chamber was tucked into the corner, small but saturated with the kind of magic that sank into your skin the moment you crossed the threshold.

Candles flickered on their own accord, blooming to life with pale blue flames. Crystals buzzed faintly from the shelves. And in the center sat a low, round table, draped in velvet the color of twilight. Her chambers reminded me of her shop in the center of Stonewick.

On the cloth rested a wooden box carved with moons and vines. Nova slid it open with reverence, revealing the tarot deck. The cards shimmered faintly as though they recognized the weight of tonight.

“They’re different than the ones at your shop.”

“Sit,” Nova said gently. “And breathe.”

I lowered myself onto the cushion opposite her, heart thrumming. She laid the deck between us, the backs painted with a starfield that seemed to shift when I blinked.

“The cards know what we do not say,” Nova murmured. “They listen when we cannot.” She lifted the deck and handed it to me. “Shuffle, child. Pour your worries into them.”

My fingers trembled as I slid the cards against each other. The air itself seemed to bend around us, hushed and waiting.

I thought of Keegan’s fevered eyes, his whispered pleas not to let Gideon in. I thought of Gideon, shadows stitched into his skin, hidden only steps away from where Keegan lay. I thought of the students, laughing brightly in the common halls, unaware of how close the sky itself was to breaking.

When I could bear it no longer, I set the deck down.

Nova touched the top card and smiled faintly. “Good. Let us see.”

She spread the cards in a fan, her long fingers moving like water. “Choose three.”

I picked without thinking, my hand drawn as if by invisible threads. Nova laid them down in a line.

The first card flipped: The Moon.

Its silver glow shimmered on the painted surface, a woman half-turned, her face split between light and shadow. Wolves howled at her feet.

“The Moon,” Nova said softly. “Confusion. Illusions. Secrets half-revealed. It warns of what cannot be trusted and of the truths hidden in dreams.”

How fitting.

A shiver ran down my arms. Dreams. The Hedge. Gideon’s voice whispering where it shouldn’t.

The second card: The Lovers.

Two figures entwined, one cloaked in light, the other in shadow. Between them burned a flame, fragile but bright.

Nova tilted her head. “Union. Choice. A bond that strengthens or destroys. It is not always about romance, Maeve. Sometimes it is about what pulls the soul, what it cannot turn from. This is not comfort, but a crossroads.”

My breath caught. Keegan. Gideon. Both were bound to me in ways I didn’t understand.

The third card: Death.

Not grim, not skeletal. The artwork depicted a lush garden overtaking crumbled stone, with blossoms pushing through the decay.

Nova’s voice dropped to a hush. “Transformation. Endings that make way for beginnings. It is the card of cycles, of necessary surrender. Something must fall so that something else may grow.”

My heart pounded. Endings. Transformation. Whose ending? Keegan’s? Gideon’s? Or mine? My dad’s?

My heart stuttered as the candles hissed in agreement. The flames stretched long, trembling shadows writhing against the walls as if they wanted out.

I wanted out. I couldn’t bear that kind of loss.

Nova set her palm lightly against the cards.

“The Moon, the Lovers, Death. Illusion. Choice. Transformation. Together, they tell us: what you see is not what is. The ties between you and these men…” Her gaze lifted, steady on mine.

“Are not what they appear. The choice is real, but so is the trickery.”

Her words tightened the air, the cards glowing faintly as though they pulsed with their own heartbeat.

And then the room itself shifted.

The shadows thickened, peeling away from the corners. They weren’t still anymore. They moved and crawled like smoke up the walls and across the ceiling. One candle snuffed out with a sharp hiss.

And another.

Nova’s staff clattered upright, called by some unseen hand. The crystals on her shelves vibrated with strain.

My breath caught. “Nova…”

“Stay still,” she commanded, her voice calm but taut.

She rose, staff glowing faintly green, pressing the butt into the floor. The runes stirred, with threads of silver lacing across the walls in a dazzling display of artistry and protection.

But the shadows outside writhed harder, testing them.

The shadows were trying to come in.

Nova’s gaze cut to me. Even in the candlelight, her eyes looked brighter, fiercer.

“They want the cards,” she murmured. “They want what was revealed.”

I snatched them up, clutching them to my chest. The Moon, the Lovers, Death…all trembling under my grip like living things.

The shadows recoiled, hissing, as if burned by the touch.

The air rang with silence, and my heart thundered with worry.

Nova struck the floor once with her staff. Light exploded from the crystal at its tip, sweeping outward in a wave. The testing shadows screeched, folding in on themselves, and vanished as though the walls had swallowed them.

The candles flared bright again, every wick blazing.

The silence broke with my own ragged gasp.

Nova lowered her staff, and her chest rose and fell as steadily as if she’d merely climbed a step.

She looked at me, calm but solemn.

“This,” she said, nodding to the cards pressed against me, “is why clarity matters. The shadows fear what is revealed.”

My hands shook as I laid the cards back on the velvet, my pulse still hammering. “Nova… what do they mean? Truly?”

She brushed her fingers over the Death card, tracing the flowers blooming over the stone.

“It means nothing is as it seems. Your fear of Gideon. Your love for Keegan. Even your own fire. Do not take any of it at face value. And do not believe the shadows when they whisper.”

I swallowed hard as the echoes of their hiss still in my ears.

Nova reached across the table, covering my hands with hers. “You are not alone, Maeve. But the choice you carry, it will not be easy. There will be sacrifice.”

Her words hung heavy, but they were steadier than the silence that followed.

The cards gleamed faintly in the candlelight, their painted figures watching, waiting, as though they knew more than either of us dared say aloud.

And outside the chamber, I swore I heard the shadows laugh.

“Come with me.” She motioned for me to follow her.

The Academy’s stones still rumbled with the aftershock of the shadows as we moved through the halls and stepped into the courtyard.

The night air pressed heavily, and the bruised skies roiled, but walking beside Nova steadied me. She didn’t rush. She rarely rushed.

Her staff clicked against the cobblestones with the certainty of someone who knew exactly how many steps it took to cross from fear into resolve.

We cut through the Butterfly Ward and through the narrow alley and into the square, past shuttered bakeries and lamplit windows.

The tourists had long gone to their rented beds, leaving Stonewick eerily quiet. The shadows above prowled and coiled, but Nova walked as though they wouldn’t dare come closer with her in sight.

Her shop came into view, and its window glowed faintly, displaying crystals that winked like sleepy stars and dried herbs strung up in bunches that swayed through the air, though the air was still. The wooden sign overhead creaked once.

She unlocked the door and gestured for me to go inside. The familiar smell of lavender, beeswax, and something that reminded me faintly of rain-soaked stone wrapped around me.

Cozy, grounding. I wished I could just curl up here for the duration.

Nova turned around and locked us in with a subtle click, followed by the sliding of a bolt. The shop, so often bustling with charm-seekers and students, suddenly felt private. Sacred.

“Why lock it?” I asked, my voice a hushed echo.

“Because some things aren’t meant to be interrupted,” she said simply, pulling the beaded curtain aside and disappearing into the back room.

The beads clinked like rain on glass, then stilled, leaving me alone with the faint glow of the lanterns and the hum of the crystals lining the shelves.

Minutes ticked by. I traced my fingers along a shelf of jars with glimmering powders, dried flowers, and tiny vials of liquid that pulsed faintly with their own light.

My nerves prickled while I waited, and I no longer felt the reassurance I had before.

Finally, the beads clattered again. Nova emerged, carrying a book that looked as though it had been pulled straight out of the roots of the earth. Its leather cover was blackened, edges frayed, the clasp tarnished but still strong.

She carried it as if it were alive.

I stiffened. “What is that?”

She set it carefully on the counter, her green eyes meeting mine with grave steadiness. “This is why I brought you here. A record of dark workings. A compendium of the forbidden. It’s old, older than Stonewick…older than the Academy.”

I took a step back instinctively. The book radiated something. It wasn’t heat nor cold, but a tingling energy that raised the fine hairs on my arms. “Why… why do you have that?”

“Because someone must.” Nova brushed her hand lightly across the cover, the way one might soothe a restless animal. “And because the skies don’t lie. Malore, or whoever puppets the storm, is drawing from this kind of magic.”

My stomach clenched. “Nova, I don’t want to—”

“You fear looking,” she said, not unkindly. “That is wise. But fear alone does not defend. The book cannot sway a heart rooted in light. Yours is very much the light in the darkness, Hedge Witch.”

I shook my head, nerves fluttering. “I’ve made enough mistakes to know that’s not always true.”

Her mouth curved, not into a smile but into something gentler. “Purity is not perfection, child. It is intention. You carry enough love and loyalty to shield yourself from harm. You will not be swayed.”

I swallowed, staring at the book. It sat there, patient and waiting. The shadows outside pressed against the windows like nosy neighbors, eager for me to open it.

“Maeve.” Nova’s voice softened. “You must see what we are up against. Only then can you decide how to fight it.”

My breath shook, but I nodded. “Alright.”

Her hands worked the clasp, metal scraping faintly. With a creak that sounded more like a sigh, she cracked the book open.

The lanterns dimmed in reverence.

Or fear…

The crystals on the shelves thrummed louder, some flaring bright, others flickering uneasily.

And I… I was stunned.

The pages weren’t made of ink and parchment, but something stranger and quite alive.

Symbols crawled across the surface like vines, glowing faintly crimson.

They shifted when I looked at them too long, forming shapes…

wolves with eyes like burning coals, wings made of smoke, faces half-hidden behind masks of shadow.

Spells were written in words that pulsed and rearranged, as if testing whether I deserved to read them.

Images bloomed, flickering like memories not my own.

I spotted a man standing beneath a sky torn open by fire, which transformed into a circle of witches with blackened veins stretching up their arms, and finally, a creature rising from the Wilds, its antlers twisted into horns.

My breath caught. The power there was raw, dangerous, intoxicating, and terrifying all at once.

Nova watched me, calm but intent. “Do you see?”

I nodded, unable to look away. “It’s… it’s like the shadows outside. It’s the same energy. I feel darkness, but with...”

“Yes,” she interrupted. “This is not simple darkness. This is crafted. Fueled. And whoever is stirring the skies has found a way to drink from this well.”

“Malore.”

“We don’t know for sure, do we?” Her question stilled me.

The pages rippled under my gaze, as though the book itself recognized me. A single line of text brightened, words lifting from the page like smoke.

Balance requires darkness and light. The union of two creates a sacrifice of one to save the chosen.

The words seared into me, familiar in a way I didn’t understand. My heart thudded. “Nova—”

Sacrifice.

My mind flashed to Keegan…to Gideon, and to my dad or me.

She leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “What did it show you?”

I pointed with a trembling finger. The words faded as quickly as they’d come, leaving only shifting symbols in their place. “It said… balance requires dark and light.”

I didn’t tell her everything by choice, and I wouldn’t until I understood what the sacrifice meant.

Her lips pressed thin. “Then it knows you. It knows your burden.”

Gideon. Keegan. Bound by something I hadn’t chosen, something I didn’t understand.

The book snapped shut with the crack of thunder.

I gasped, finally tearing my eyes away. My heart pounded like I’d been running.

“I hate that thing,” I whispered.

Nova rested her hand on the cover, firm. “Good. Hatred means distance. Fear means caution. Both are wiser than hunger.”

I sank into the nearest chair, pressing a hand over my chest. “So Malore is using this?”

“Or something like it,” Nova said grimly. “But now you’ve seen. The skies are not angry by chance. They are being pulled, shaped. And if balance requires unity of dark and light…” She trailed off, her gaze unreadable.

“We are the light.”

But who was the sacrifice?

I knew what she was thinking. What it meant.

Keegan. Gideon. Me. My dad.

The shadows outside scraped against the windowpane, as though laughing at me for realizing too late.