Page 30 of Magical Mayhem (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #7)

When I woke, for a moment I thought I’d been under a spell. My body was so light, my mind so clear, it felt as though I’d slept not for hours but for a century.

I blinked against the dim light spilling through the loft window.

Summer should have been streaming in with golden beams splashing across the quilt, the air warm with the sounds of birds’ chirping.

But the shadows clinging to the sky hadn’t loosened their grip overnight.

The light that seeped through was dulled, tinged gray, as though October had elbowed its way into July.

Still, it didn’t weaken me.

I stretched, the quilt slipping to the floor, and let myself savor the rare sensation of energy buzzing in my veins. I hadn’t realized how deeply exhaustion had rooted in me until it was gone, if only temporarily.

“Up,” I whispered to myself, tossing my legs over the side of the bed. “Today, we move forward.”

The washroom was cool, steam rising quickly as I turned on the shower. I let the water sluice over me, hot and sharp, rinsing away the clinging heaviness of the Hedge, the bitter cold of Gideon’s memories, the dread of shadows pressing outside.

By the time I toweled off and dressed in simple trousers, a linen shirt, and boots with enough give to run if I had to, I felt steadier and sharper.

I had things to do.

The quicker I got to the Academy, the closer we were to ending this once and for all.

I strapped on my cloak, tightened the laces, and moved toward the shed at the edge of the garden.

From the outside, it was nothing more than a ramshackle building, half-covered in ivy from summer’s warm temps. Its roof perpetually sagged no matter how many times Twobble claimed to shore it up. The wooden door groaned as I pulled it open, and the scent of soil and moss rushed out to meet me.

Inside, the shelves were cluttered with gardening tools, empty pots, and baskets of dried herbs. But it was the entrance at the far corner that mattered.

The goblin tunnel.

Twobble had shown me, grinning ear to ear, as if inviting me into a grand prank. It seemed like the most direct and discreet route to reach the Academy without walking through town or the woods under the weight of those watchful shadows.

I knelt, pressing my palm against the entrance. The stone was cool, humming faintly, and after a moment it gave a shudder and slid aside with a grinding sigh.

The tunnel yawned below, dark and earthy, but oddly inviting. A narrow ladder descended into the soil.

I muttered under my breath, “Trust the goblins, Maeve. If anyone knows how to tunnel, it’s them.”

The air grew cooler as I climbed down, the scent of rich, earthy soil grounding me. My boots touched solid soil, and I pulled the lantern from its hook on the wall. It sputtered to life, casting flickering light across the tunnel walls.

The path was narrow and roots dangled from above like bony fingers, and water dripped rhythmically in the distance.

Yet, for all its shadows, there was comfort here. The goblins had carved these passages with care, their stonework sturdy, the walls marked with crude runes that blinked faintly with magic.

I walked quickly, the goblin gold guiding me through with my thoughts racing.

Keegan, pale but fighting. Gideon, slipping but tethered. My father, caught in all of it. My mother, back when I least expected her. And me, stuck in the middle, trying to stitch them all into one tapestry before Malore tore it apart.

My boots scuffed against the dirt, and the tunnel bent sharply.

A faint draft brushed my cheek, and after several more turns, the tunnel slanted upward.

Another ladder appeared, this one carved of gnarled wood, polished by decades of goblin hands.

I hadn’t used this exit before, but I recalled Twobble mentioning it was a good option.

I climbed, pushing against the trapdoor at the top.

It opened with a soft creak, letting in filtered daylight.

I emerged into the small grove of trees that ringed the back of the Academy’s property. I dusted soil from my pants and straightened, breathing in the air. Even dulled by shadows, the Academy’s grounds vibrated with life.

Students’ voices carried across the courtyard. Midlife witches chatted and laughed, with their energy as stubborn as it was bright.

The sight steadied me.

Stonewick was still alive.

And as long as it breathed, Malore had not won.

I stepped from the trees, the path unfolding before me like an invitation. The day had begun, the fight waiting.

And I was ready.

Students filled the courtyard, their voices rising and falling in overlapping threads of chatter. Some balanced satchels stuffed with books, others clutched steaming mugs of tea or coffee, and more than a few carried enchanted quills already scribbling notes in the air around them.

The sheer energy of it startled me.

I slowed my pace, drinking it in. Witches with streaks of silver hair streaked through their braids leaned together, gossiping about last night’s dreams as if they might predict the weather.

A shifter stretched in the corner amid conversation with a fae student whose wings kept fluttering like nervous dragonflies.

Two kitchen sprites darted between benches, distributing muffins the size of fists to anyone who looked remotely hungry.

Despite the shadows draping the sky, despite the unease twisting at the edges of Stonewick, the courtyard was alive.

Alive in a way I hadn’t felt since it opened.

This, I realized, is what Malore hates most. This is what he fears.

Not the Wards. Not the buildings. Not even the teachers.

It was the people. The midlife witches, the shifters, the fae, all of them refusing to fade into obscurity. Every line on their faces, every laugh, every stubborn flicker of curiosity was a rebellion.

One student waved to me as she passed, her cheeks flushed. “Morning, Headmistress.”

I blinked, startled at the way she said it, light and certain, and it made something warm stir in my chest.

Another student trailed behind, cradling a familiar brown cat in her arms. The cat blinked at me, golden eyes lazy, before letting out a loud, commanding meow.

I laughed. “He’s already learned the rules. Get carried everywhere, receive free muffins.”

The student grinned, her eyes crinkling. “He’s an overachiever.”

I continued forward, moving through the clusters of students. Their chatter pressed around me like a shield, their resilience seeping into my bones. For the first time in days, I felt a sense of relief.

Then the bell rang.

Its sound rolled across the courtyard, low and resonant, vibrating in my chest. Students immediately began shuffling toward their classrooms, finishing bites of muffins, capping ink pots, tucking away scrolls. The energy sharpened into focus, excitement and nerves braided together.

Classes would start in five minutes.

I paused at the center of the courtyard, tilting my head to listen as the echo faded.

This was it.

The moment.

If I wanted to start turning Stonewick’s greatest asset outward, if I wanted to show Malore his curse couldn’t break us, then I needed to do more than protect them. I needed to use them. To let them stand, not behind me, but beside me.

The thought sent a shiver through me, half fear, half exhilaration.

I cleared my throat, raising my voice just enough to carry. “Excuse me, everyone. Before you head off.”

The chatter dimmed. Faces turned toward me, expectant, curious.

I swallowed hard, but the words came steady. “This afternoon, I’d like everyone gathered here in the courtyard again. We’ll be holding an assembly.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, half-surprised, half-excited.

One student near the front called out, “What’s it about?”

I smiled, though the weight of what I was asking settled heavily on me. “It’s about what we’re capable of together. It’s about what it means to be here, now. Bring your questions. Bring your courage. Bring your voices.”

Their murmurs grew louder, but not with resistance, with energy.

With anticipation.

I let myself stand there a moment longer, absorbing it. The bell chimed again, gentler this time, nudging them onward. Students began drifting toward the arched doors of the Academy, their chatter now buzzing with speculation.

An assembly. Something to look forward to. Something to be part of.

I exhaled slowly, my pulse steadying.

Midlife experience, I thought. It wasn’t a weakness, wasn’t something to be pitied. It was Stonewick’s sharpest edge.

Every student here carried not just magic but history. Families raised, loves lost, battles fought in silence. Their scars were proof of endurance, and their laughter proof of survival. And together, that made them strong in a way Malore’s shadows could never understand.

The courtyard emptied, leaving only a few lingering sprites collecting muffin wrappers and a stray quill bobbing toward the library.

Today, I thought, was the day we began showing Malore what he could not break.

And I couldn’t wait.

I was still standing in the courtyard, watching the last students slip inside, when a flash of gold caught the corner of my eye. Ardetia, her long hair gleaming even under the gloom, strode quickly toward me, her expression a careful mix of concern and curiosity.

“Maeve,” she said, her voice low but urgent, “are you certain the assembly should be held here? Out in the open? Shouldn’t we do it within the Academy’s walls, where there’s privacy?”

Her words tugged at something practical in me, but the answer came without hesitation. I laughed softly, shaking my head. “No. I want this message sent loud and clear to the students, to Stonewick, and to Malore.”

Ardetia’s eyes widened for a moment, then softened. A slow smile curved her lips, and she let out a lilting chuckle. “Keegan is going to love hearing about this.”

I grinned back, my chest tightening with the thought of him, stubborn and weary but still fighting. “Stronger together, right?”

Ardetia inclined her head, her fae grace almost regal. “Right.”

But even as I spoke, my mind flickered elsewhere…back to Gideon.

I could almost feel the weight of his gaze, the memory of his voice whispering in the Hedge. If he were to stand with us at the circle, if unity truly meant all of us, then convincing him would be the longest, hardest road.

Yet the first step was clear.

I looked back at the courtyard, imagining it filled with every student, every voice rising together. A living reminder to Malore that his curse couldn’t silence us. That Stonewick would not break.

The wind shifted, cool against my skin. I shivered, though not from the cold.

Because at that moment, the shadows above thickened unnaturally, swirling low over the Academy towers. The Wards rumbled in protest, a faint tremor running underfoot.

Ardetia’s smile faded, and her eyes darted skyward.

And I knew that Malore had heard me.