Page 34 of Magical Mayhem (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #7)

Keegan’s hand trembled in mine, and his skin turned ashen, and though he tried to hide it, I could feel the way his strength faltered with every breath.

He never should have joined us in the courtyard or for the feast, but his soul needed it.

“Maeve,” he muttered, his voice gruff with fatigue.

“You’re about two heartbeats away from toppling face-first into this plate of greens.”

“I’m not that bad.”

No, and not nearly as bad as Gideon, but I didn’t need to highlight that fact.

“You’re not great, and we need you to stay strong or as strong as you can.”

He smirked faintly, but the humor never reached his eyes. The shadows under them deepened, and my chest clenched.

“Come on,” I whispered, sliding an arm around him and nodding to Ardetia, who had been hovering near enough to intervene if necessary. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

Keegan resisted, stubborn wolf that he was, but when he shifted his weight to rise, his legs betrayed him. He wobbled hard, nearly sending his chair crashing. I caught him, braced under his arm, and looked straight at him until he relented with a low growl.

“All right,” he said. “But only because you’ll nag until I’m deaf.”

“I thought hearing was the last to go in wolves.”

“Exactly my point.”

We made it halfway to the corridor when the air rippled.

It wasn’t the normal buzz of the Academy. This was different. The ripple passed through my skin and down to my bones.

I froze, steadying Keegan as he stumbled against me.

“Maeve,” he rasped. “What was that?”

I shook my head slowly. “So, that wasn’t in my head.”

The silence that followed wasn’t natural. It was aware.

I turned toward the banquet hall, heart pounding. The ripple had rolled through from there. With each step closer, the hair on my arms lifted, the magic pulling tighter, sharper, as if the very walls braced.

And then I knew.

The silver wolf was inside the Academy.

My breath caught as Keegan sagged harder into me, his jaw locked tight.

“She’s here,” he whispered, and the tone in his voice was half awe, half dread.

“Hold steady,” I murmured. “We’ll face this together.”

As we stepped back into the banquet hall, the students had stilled. Platters and cups hung in midair, held by stunned kitchen sprites. Every gaze was turned toward the center, where the ripple still shimmered like heat over stone.

My parents stood near, with my dad’s human form steady next to me. His eyes were sharp with the bulldog focus that had carried him through curses and betrayal. His hand brushed against my arm, firm and grounding.

My mom stepped from between the tables, and she looked… different here. Less like the woman who once hid everything behind suburban vacations and forced laughter, and more like someone who had always known she belonged to magic.

“Maeve,” she said softly, her gaze never leaving the shimmer in the center of the room. “This is bigger than us.”

“I know,” I whispered back. “It always has been.”

The threads of this homecoming tugged in every direction. Keegan’s faltering breath. Gideon’s sickness hidden across town. The students, their midlife magic sparkling brighter with every lesson. The Wards thrumming with a rhythm older than Stonewick itself. And now, her.

The Silver Wolf.

Magic depended on this moment.

Unity.

Sacrifice.

The shimmer thickened and condensed until the shape took form.

Silver fur gleamed as if dusted with starlight.

Her body was lean and strong, but it was her eyes that stole the air from the room.

Her gaze matched Keegan’s, but it was older and sharper, carrying every memory of leaving and returning. She was as large as I had remembered.

Keegan took all he had and straightened.

“So she returns.” My mother’s steady voice had a hint of recognition.

And I realized these were two women who’d abandoned Stonewick and those they loved, and now, they returned.

The Silver Wolf stepped forward, paws silent against the stone floor. Around us, whispers rushed in flurries as students gasped, sprites muttered, and instructors exchanged urgent glances.

Nova appeared in the doorway, but she didn’t move forward.

She waited.

Because this wasn’t about her. Or even about me.

It was about them.

I looked down at Keegan, and his eyes blazed as they held his mom’s.

He looked furious, lost, and yearning all at once, and I knew his wolf heart was tearing itself apart.

“She’s not just here for you,” my father murmured, his words meant only for me. “She’s here for Stonewick.”

I nodded faintly, unable to tear my eyes away.

The Silver Wolf lowered her head, not a bow, but a recognition. The air tightened, waiting for the first words.

And all I could think was: whatever happens next, the future of magic is no longer just about curses and Wards. It’s about what we choose now.

Together or divided again?

Keegan swayed, his strength almost gone. I held him upright, my heart pounding with fear and wonder.

Because this was no longer just about survival.

This was destiny coming home.

The shimmer of light that clung to her fur began to flicker, the silver edges trembling as though the charms themselves pressed closer to witness the event.

And then, before all of us, her shape shifted.

The ripple started at her paws, sliding upward like a tide of molten silver.

Fur thinned into skin, claws melted into fingers, her muzzle curved into a mouth that inhaled sharply like it had been waiting years just to breathe this air.

Her body elongated, softened, the lines of a woman appearing where once a wolf had prowled.

When the glow receded, standing in the center of the hall was a tall woman with hair the color of moonlight streaked through with midnight, and eyes that mirrored Keegan’s so perfectly that my heart twisted in my chest.

Keegan’s mother.

Gasps echoed around us. A chair clattered to the stone floor. The kitchen sprites fluttered high into the rafters, their wings buzzing with anxious magic.

Keegan’s breathing was ragged, but he stared at her like the world had ended and begun all over again.

Then, somehow, he straightened. With a resolve I hadn’t seen since before the curse sank into his marrow, he lifted himself off my arm.

His steps were shaky, but they carried him forward until he stood near her.

He circled her slowly, eyes never leaving hers, his expression carved from a mixture of rage, betrayal, and the unbearable ache of a son who once needed a mother and found only silence.

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t speak. She simply stood there, letting him look, letting him rage without words.

When he had completed the circle, Keegan stopped in front of her. His jaw clenched hard enough that I thought it might break. Then he shook his head, a short, sharp movement, and turned away.

He walked past me without a word, shoulders hunched, each step costing him more of the little strength he had left. I could hear his breath rasping, saw the slight tremor in his hands, but he didn’t stop.

My heart thundered.

I knew that pain.

That betrayal. The wound of abandonment that never truly healed, only scarred. But I also knew what it must have cost her to stand here, knowing he’d look at her with nothing but fury. Knowing her son would see her and turn away.

As he brushed past, I caught her eyes. They were filled with so much sorrow I nearly wept. And then, subtly, fleetingly, she gave me the smallest nod and the faintest smile of understanding.

It felt like she was telling me, Go to him. He needs you more than anyone right now.

So I did.

I followed Keegan, my pulse roaring in my ears. Each step felt heavier than the last, not just with the weight of my worry for him but with the knowledge of the moment we’d just witnessed.

Something had cracked open in Stonewick. Something that had been buried for decades. And we had very little time to mend it before the shadows swallowed us whole.

Behind me, voices rose. Stella, with her signature blend of exasperation and steel, was already speaking.

“He’s ill,” she told Keegan’s mother. “Don’t think for one second you can simply waltz in here and not know the cost your absence has taken on him. He’s not well, and every wasted breath is another step closer to…”

“Stella,” my father interrupted, his voice low but firm.

I slowed to hear the conversation.

“She needs to understand that the boy’s fighting harder than anyone sees, and he hasn’t got much left to give.”

“He’s a man,” my dad corrected.

The words cut deep. Deeper than I wanted to admit.

I turned one last time, glimpsing his mom’s face.

Keegan’s mother stood motionless, listening. Her lips pressed together as if she were biting back words, but her eyes… her eyes told the truth.

She knew. She’d already seen the shadows eating at him. She’d already felt the weakness in his steps.

She understood what little time we had.

And so did I.

Because he’d spent his nights talking to the moon, and she listened.

I caught up to Keegan in the corridor. He leaned against the stone wall, his head tipped back, eyes closed. He was pale, every muscle straining just to keep him upright.

I reached for him. “Keegan…”

“Don’t,” he rasped, his voice harsh with more than exhaustion. “Not right now.”

I froze, my chest aching. He wasn’t pushing me away because he didn’t want me. He was pushing me away because he was breaking, and he needed the pieces to scatter before he let anyone gather them up again.

I swallowed hard, nodding even though his eyes were still closed. “All right. Not right now.”

But inside, I made a vow. Not now, but soon. Soon, we’d have to face all of it: the curse, Gideon, Malore, and this raw wound between a son and his mother.

And soon wasn’t very long from now.

Because one truth rang louder than the rest as I watched him struggle to breathe, watched the silver wolf turned woman standing alone in the banquet hall, watched Stella and Frank’s words bite like truth into tender flesh.

We had very little time.

To heal wounds.

To mend families.

To unite the broken.

To lift Stonewick.

And I wasn’t sure we could.