Page 29 of Magical Mayhem (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #7)

The room stilled, as though every sound was holding its breath. The shadows along the corners retreated slightly, flickering as though pushed back by some unseen force.

Nova’s hand was still steady on my arm. She leaned closer, her green eyes searching mine with unsettling precision.

“I don’t know what you did,” she murmured, her voice low, meant only for me. “But it helped him.”

I blinked, startled. My gaze whipped toward the bed because last I checked, he looked a heck of a lot worse.

Gideon lay motionless, but not the terrifying stillness from before. His chest rose and fell more evenly now, the rasp gone from his breath. The violent coughing had subsided, leaving only a faint tremor in his shoulders. His lips, once gray, carried a hint of plum again.

My stomach flipped while relief warred with disbelief.

“I…” My voice cracked. “I tried to search for the truth.”

Nova’s brow furrowed, her gaze never wavering. She didn’t rush to speak, didn’t shower me with praise or warnings. She only tilted her head, analyzing me with that piercing calm that always made me feel both stripped bare and steadied.

“Truth,” she repeated softly, tasting the word. Her eyes slid back to Gideon, then returned to me. “Maybe it’s his truth that has been making him so sick. The curse is latching onto it. Feeding on it. Maybe his truth is worse than Keegan’s.”

The idea rippled through me, shaking my ribs from the inside.

Nova’s voice grew stronger, more certain.

“Curses attach themselves like parasites. They fasten to whatever is darkest, whatever is weakest, and gnaw until nothing is left. If his truth began in wickedness, if it was twisted from the very start…” She gestured slightly toward the bed.

“Then no wonder he is breaking apart faster than Keegan.”

I swallowed hard, her words slotting too easily into place.

“And maybe,” I whispered, “that’s why Keegan isn’t as sick as Gideon.”

Nova inclined her head. “Possibly.”

The silence stretched, and my hands curled against my lap. “There’s no doubt, Nova. Malore used him. I saw it.”

Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “How do you know?”

I drew in a shaky breath, the memory of the Hedge pressing like a stone on my chest. I hadn’t meant to tell her. Not yet. But Nova’s eyes left no room for deflection.

“I saw them,” I whispered. “Gideon and Malore. A memory, frozen in time. Gideon wasn’t the monster he became, not yet.

He was just a boy. Tired, lonely. Malore spoke to him as if he were the only one who mattered.

Told him Stonewick had always been the enemy.

Told him he was destined to be the Mage who ruled all magic. Promised to serve him.”

Nova’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t interrupt.

I forced myself to continue, though the words scraped raw. “But the price Malore demanded was a curse. To divide the lands, to rip families apart. He told Gideon it would show him the truth, that the ones who stayed were the real enemies, because they would be the hardest to break.”

Nova exhaled slowly, her staff tightening under her hand. “Malore’s words.”

I nodded. “And Gideon believed him.”

We both turned back to the bed. Gideon lay there, breathing steadily now, his face slack with exhaustion. For the first time since I’d known him, he looked almost… human.

Nova’s voice was quiet but sharp. “You may have set him free a little without realizing it. If the curse feeds on his darkest truth, and you stripped a piece of it bare…”

“Then it loosened its grip,” I finished, the realization twisting through me.

“Yes.” Nova’s gaze flicked to me again. “But only a little. The curse still festers. And he…” She trailed off, her lips tightening.

“He’s still Gideon,” I said.

“Exactly.”

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.

I sighed, nodding reluctantly. “Fine. A couple hours.”

Nova gave a single, satisfied nod, as though she’d expected me to fight longer.

“Go to your cottage. Familiar walls will steady you.”

Ember, who had slipped in quietly, flickered to a gentle glow by the hearth.

“I’ll go to the Academy,” she said, her translucent hands clasped together. “Keegan will not be alone.”

Ardetia stepped forward, her hair catching the lamplight. “Nor will he lack guidance. I will see to it that he rests, even if I must lull him into it myself.”

The reassurance eased a knot in my chest. I trusted them both. Between Ember’s patience and Ardetia’s quiet strength, Keegan would be in good hands.

I pressed a hand to Gideon’s blanket, the faintest squeeze as though to remind him I’d be back, then stood. My legs wobbled, but I managed. Nova’s steady presence shadowed me to the door, her staff clicking softly against the floor.

“Two hours,” she reminded me, her eyes locking on mine. “Not a minute less.”

I gave her a weary smile. “You sound like my mother.”

Her lips quirked, though the seriousness didn’t leave her gaze. “Then listen for once.”

The night air outside the inn was cool, brushing my face like balm. The shadows still swirled heavy in the skies, but the lanterns along the street glowed stubbornly, their golden light pushing back the darkness. I pulled my cloak tighter and set my steps toward the cottage.

By the time I reached the familiar garden path, exhaustion dragged at every limb.

And there, perched like a gargoyle should be, though far more graceful, was Karvey. He swooped down from the roof the moment he spotted me, wings stretching wide before he landed neatly at my side.

“Maeve,” he said urgently, his gravelly voice echoing with concern. “You’re ill.” His stone brow furrowed. “Are you ill?”

I tried to laugh, though it came out thin. “Not ill. Just… burned out. You should see Keegan. He looks worse.”

.

The door creaked as I pushed it open, the familiar scent of herbs and wood smoke wrapping around me like a blanket.

A groan rose from below in the cellar.

“Not you again,” Miora muttered, her voice sharp as ever.

She cut off suddenly. There was a pause. Then a rush of movement.

Miora appeared in the doorway, her face stern, but her eyes softened the moment they landed on me. “Oh. It’s you. Not her.”

The relief in her voice was so naked it startled me.

Her lips even curved into a faint smile. “Well, thank the stars. I don’t think I could’ve handled another round of her dramatics tonight.”

A laugh bubbled up in me, surprising and warm. It broke through the exhaustion just enough to leave a smile on my own lips.

“It’s just me,” I said softly. “No dramatics. Not tonight.”

Miora gave a brisk nod, though I thought I saw her eyes glisten faintly before she vanished back into the cellar.

The cottage seemed to exhale around me, the Ward humming its welcome. I slipped off my sandals, climbed the ladder to the loft, and let myself fall into the softness of my bed.

The quilt was soft like clouds, and the pillow was cool against my cheek. For the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself relax, even if only for a little while.

Sleep pulled me down swiftly, heavy and inevitable.

And though I knew things were only just beginning, though shadows still writhed over Stonewick and Malore’s laugh lingered in the distance, I let myself surrender to rest.

Because tomorrow, I would need every ounce of strength I had.