Page 31 of Magical Mayhem (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #7)

The courtyard filled faster than I expected. By the time the second bell rang, benches and steps were crowded with midlife students.

A hush of anticipation spread through the air, charged and restless. The kitchen sprites had even taken it upon themselves to string a few lanterns along the arches, their warm glow fighting against the gloom overhead.

I stood near the hum of the Butterfly Ward. My breath quickened as I scanned the crowd. For weeks, I had been trying to keep these people safe, to shield them from the worst of Stonewick’s shadows. Now I was asking them to stand in the storm with me.

A hand brushed my arm, steady and familiar.

Frank.

My dad stood tall at my side, his features sharp in his human form, though the hint of his bulldog strength clung to his stance. His eyes, the same deep brown I’d grown up with, carried both worry and pride.

“Whatever you’re about to say,” he murmured, “say it like you mean it.”

I nodded, smiling. “I will.”

“I’ve always said fake until you make it.” He winked at me.

“I love you, Dad.”

Before I could gather my thoughts further, movement rippled through the students. A figure pushed gently through the crowd, and my heart stopped.

Keegan.

He moved more slowly than his usual stride, but his presence was no less commanding. His cloak hung open, his shoulders squared as if daring weakness to weigh him down. Students stepped aside instinctively, their whispers chasing after him as he came to stand on my other side.

“Keegan,” I breathed, more to myself than anyone.

Up close, I saw the lines of exhaustion still etched across his face, the faint pallor clinging to his skin. But his eyes…they burned with hazel and fire, and locked on me with a clarity that startled me.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” I whispered.

His lips curved faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “And miss this?”

The words might have been bravado, but something about his gaze unsettled me. He knew something, or it was the curse again, whispering through him. The tension in my gut didn’t ease, but I couldn’t argue with him here. Not in front of everyone.

The students’ eyes turned to me expectantly. Lady Limora and Vivienne sat front and center, leaning forward with avid interest. Mara and Opal had squeezed in beside them, notebooks already open in their laps. Even Bella, in her fox form, twitched her ears from the fountain’s edge.

It was time.

I drew in a deep breath, feeling my dad’s solid presence to my left and Keegan’s fierce energy to my right.

“Stonewick,” I began, my voice carrying through the courtyard, “has endured more than its fair share of shadows. You all know it. You’ve lived it.”

The crowd stilled, eyes locked on me.

“For too long, we’ve been divided by curses, by fear, by old wounds.

Malore has fed on that division, used it to weaken us.

First, he used Gideon as his pawn, and when that failed, he brought out the shadows.

But today…” I let the words hang, my voice hardening.

“Today, we remind him that Stonewick does not break.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.

I continued, my pulse quickening. “This Academy is not just walls and Wards. It’s not just history.

It’s you. Every one of you who chose to return, to learn, to keep growing, even when the world told you your chance had passed.

That’s not weakness. That is strength. We will embrace our differences and unite with a mission. ”

I nodded at Bella, who waved her finger in the air as words filled the sky.

“If we could all sing these words, I think good things will come to Stonewick, to those knowing what they gave up, what they lost, and what could lie ahead. We’re putting out a call for those who left, but are ready to return to a bigger and more unified Stonewick.

Power does not belong to one person, but to us all. ”

Keegan glanced at me, but I didn’t see anger in his gaze. I saw understanding.

A sea of midlife witches nodded and watched me as the words filled the sky. Funny how the shadows provided the perfect backdrop for our chant to sparkle.

And then I heard something so beautiful erupt all at once.

When the moon is high and hollow,

when the pack is scattered wide,

gather not in fang or fury,

but in heart where kin abide.

Break the Path that starves the spirit,

fight the shadow, feed the flame,

call the ones who walked before you,

speak the lost ones back by name.

Every weakness turns to blessing,

every exile finds the way,

when the circle holds together,

dawn will meet the hungering day

Heads lifted. Shoulders squared.

I felt it. The energy began to spark, stitching together like threads.

“We are stronger together,” I said firmly, glancing between my dad and Keegan. “And it’s time Malore learned that his curse will not silence us.”

I spotted my mom in the crowd with a look on her face I had rarely ever seen.

Pride, but that wasn’t what I focused on.

The courtyard rang with applause, hands clapping, voices rising. My chest swelled with something fierce and fragile. For the first time, I believed we might actually stand a chance as the midlife witches repeated the chant.

But the sky above darkened unnaturally fast. The lanterns flickered wildly, shadows curling down like grasping fingers. A cold wind cut through the courtyard, stealing the warmth from my lungs, and the applause faltered, replaced by uneasy whispers. Students craned their necks skyward.

And then I saw it.

The clouds swirled, coalescing into a shape. Formed from fog and shadow, first the eyes, followed by a jagged mouth.

Malore’s face.

My pulse thundered in my ears.

His gaze swept the courtyard, hollow and merciless, his grin stretching wide enough to split the sky.

The students gasped, some stumbling back, others clutching at one another. Even the kitchen sprites froze, their trays trembling in midair.

Keegan tensed beside me, his hand brushing the hilt of the dagger at his belt. My dad growled low in his throat, a sound that carried the bulldog’s rumble even in his human form.

I forced myself to stand tall, to keep my voice steady though my heart hammered against my ribs.

This was the moment Malore had been waiting for.

He had heard me.

And he had come to answer.

The face made of shadows above us leered, its mouth stretched too wide, eyes like hollow pits peering down on the courtyard. Students clutched one another, their whispers a tide of fear rising too quickly for comfort.

I forced my breath steady, my pulse a hammer in my throat. This was the moment I had been building toward, whether I was ready or not. If Malore wanted a show, then we would give him one.

“Everyone, listen!” My voice cut through the murmurs, sharp and sure. The crowd stilled, hundreds of eyes turning toward me, waiting.

“Shadows feed on fear,” I said, raising my chin. “But fear isn’t failure. Fear means you care. Fear means you’re alive. And every weakness you think you carry, every flaw, every doubt, is the thread that will make Stonewick stronger.”

The murmurs hushed further. Students leaned in. Even the sprites, frozen midair, slowly tilted their heads.

I seized the moment.

“We are not hiding inside the Academy walls today. We are standing together in the open, where Malore can see us. So, we are going to use what he thinks are our weaknesses as our strengths. That is how Stonewick fights.”

My gaze swept the air, finding familiar faces. “Those of you who struggle to see clearly where your path is headed, join Nova. She is our seer, our anchor in the shifting fog. Divinatory practices will give you clarity and focus when shadows try to confuse you.”

Nova inclined her head gracefully, stepping forward from the edge of the crowd. Her raven-dark hair shimmered, her staff gleaming faintly. The students turned toward her, their shoulders loosening at the sight of her calm, unshakable presence.

“Those of you who fear losing touch with the earth beneath your feet,” I went on, my voice growing stronger, “those of you who feel rootless or too easily shaken, join Ardetia. Her connection to nature will remind you that the land itself stands with us. That Stonewick has not abandoned you.”

Ardetia lifted her hand, and the vines along the fountain stirred, green shoots curling upward as if to greet her. Her hair caught the lantern light, and students drifted toward her instinctively, comforted by her glow.

I turned, scanning the faces. “If your fear is that your magic is too unpredictable, that it slips away from you or lashes out at the wrong time, seek Bella. She knows better than anyone how to trust instinct, how to balance control and mischief. What you see as chaos, she will show you is cunning.”

Bella, still in her fox form, gave a sharp yip, then shifted smoothly into her human self, her tail swishing once before vanishing. She grinned, sharp and playful, and raised a hand. Several students hurried her way, relief etched on their faces.

“And for those of you who think your past defines you,” I said, my throat tightening, “for those who believe mistakes cannot be redeemed, seek Ember. She carries memory with grace. She will teach you that what haunts you does not chain you. It fuels you.”

Ember glowed faintly where she hovered near the far bench, her form steady and translucent. She inclined her head, her soft smile like a lantern in fog. A wave of students moved toward her, shoulders easing, as if their ghosts had grown a little quieter.

“And for those of you who feel your magic is too small, too ordinary, those who fear you don’t have enough to offer, go to Stella.”

I caught her eye where she sat near the fountain, her shawl draped dramatically as always. She gave a sharp sniff, but her scarlet lips curved into a smile as she rose.

“Stella knows the strength of everyday magic,” I continued. “Her folk practices, amulets, teas, and simple spells remind us that the smallest things can steady the heart. What some call plain, she will show you is powerful.”

Several students shifted, relieved, as though I had given them permission to believe that what they carried mattered too. Stella preened, of course, but there was pride in her eyes as she guided them over.

“And those of you who crave structure, who want order in the chaos of your magic, join Lemonia. She excels in runes, in symbols, in the languages written into the bones of the world. She will teach you to carve clarity where there is confusion, and strength where there is doubt.”

Lemonia raised her hand in acknowledgment, her calm presence drawing another cluster of students forward.

I lifted my chin, sweeping the entire crowd with my gaze. “Every doubt you’ve carried, every weakness you’ve believed yourself cursed by, today, it becomes your strength. Today, we stand together. Today, we show Malore that Stonewick does not break.”

The courtyard buzzed with motion, students grouping around their chosen instructors. Their fear didn’t vanish, but it changed shape. It sharpened into determination, into something they could hold and shape instead of something gnawing at them from within.

The ground hummed under my boots, louder now, as if feeding off the energy.

Above us, the face twisted. Malore’s grin faltered. The shadows curled tighter around the sky, swirling like smoke trapped in a glass.

The air turned colder. My breath came out in faint mist.

And then the face’s mouth opened, stretching wider and wider until it split into words.

“You think this is strength?” The voice reverberated, deep and jagged, shaking the windows of the Academy. Students flinched, some clutching at one another. But I stood tall, with my dad on one side and Keegan on the other.

Malore’s laughter rolled through the courtyard, scraping along my spine. “Weaklings clinging to one another in the dark. That is not strength. That is desperation.”

“Maybe,” I called back, forcing my voice steady, though my pulse thundered. “What you see as desperation is strength. Weakness isn’t desperation. It’s the reminder we need others for strength, and together we shine too brightly for darkness to swallow. That’s why you fear it.”

A hiss rippled through the face above, its eyes narrowing. The shadows writhed across the sky, darting low, making the lanterns flicker.

“You can gather all the broken witches and fading shifters you like,” Malore snarled. “You can stitch together the scraps of what Stonewick once was. But when the moment comes, they will scatter. They always do. It is the ones who stay who are the hardest to break, but I will break them myself.”

The words sent a chill through me. I heard them again, exactly as Gideon had in the Hedge. Malore’s poison, dripping into his ears, bending truth into a weapon.

But this time, I wouldn’t let it take root.

“You won’t,” I said fiercely. “Because Stonewick is staying. Every student here, every voice, every heart has chosen to return to a place that isn’t whole, not yet anyway. And that courage is what you cannot break.”

The courtyard erupted in murmurs, students nodding, standing straighter. Nova lifted her staff, its crystal gleaming brighter than the lanterns. Ardetia’s vines spread further across the fountain, lush and green. Bella’s eyes glinted with fox-fire, and Ember’s glow deepened, steady as the hearth.

For the first time, I saw it clearly, not just individuals, not just students.

A force.

Malore’s face contorted in the fog, his grin curdling into a snarl. The shadows churned, swirling violently, then dissipated with a hiss, shredded by the Wards’ hum. The sky remained gray, but the face was gone.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then Lady Limora stood, her voice clear as a bell. “Well said, Maeve.”

Vivienne clapped loudly, Opal and Mara following. The applause spread through the courtyard, uneven at first, then stronger, until it echoed against the Academy walls.

We had rattled him.

Malore had shown his face, and we did not retreat.

I looked at the students gathered around their instructors, their eyes lit with determination, their laughter rising again despite the gloom. For the first time, I believed we could make Stonewick more than a memory.

And for the first time, I believed Malore knew it too.

But when I glanced at Keegan, his hazel eyes were darker than ever, his jaw tight. He wasn’t watching the students.

He was staring at the sky, as though he could still see Malore lingering there.