Page 37 of Magical Mayhem (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #7)

The words he’s awakening hung in the corridor like smoke no breeze could clear. My pulse thundered in my ears, but I forced myself to meet the eyes of the women standing before me.

Grandma Elira’s gaze turned unfocused, as if she were staring at something far beyond us.

Keegan’s mother stood stiff, unreadable, though I thought I saw her fingers curl tightly against her palms.

And Stella, bless her dramatic soul, looked like she was ready to throttle the shadows themselves with nothing but a shawl and sheer will.

I nodded to them, steadying my breath.

“He heard our song,” I said quietly. “That’s why he’s stirring. That’s why Malore is restless. He knows we’re calling. And he’s nervous. Nothing more.”

The air tightened as the words landed.

My grandma’s distant gaze deepened, and a sorrow threaded through her.

She looked almost translucent and fragile, as if the weight of memory was thinning her, as if she knew something she didn’t want to face.

When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but heavy with truth.

“My husband has always been up to something,” she murmured. “Always pulling threads, lacing paths none of us can straighten. It has been out of my control since the beginning.”

Her admission settled in me like ice. This was bigger than curses, bigger than Wards, bigger even than Malore. The roots of it had been coiled around us long before I took my first breath.

I straightened, forcing a steadiness I didn’t feel.

“Then we don’t waste time. Gather the students in the banquet hall. Every single one. They need to see us united, no matter what’s clawing at the Wards.”

Stella raised one brow. “You want to herd a flock of midlife witches into a single room while Malore tests the skies?”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “Because fear scatters. Unity holds.”

She tilted her head, her lips twitching despite herself. “Fine. We will pretend we’re prepared because that is all we have.”

“In my humble opinion, preparation is overrated,” Twobble said, eyeing me.

“Your opinion is never humble,” Skonk snorted as Keegan pushed himself off the wall.

“You should go to your quarters,” I told him gently. “Rest. You’ve given enough tonight.”

His jaw tightened, and he shook his head. “Not happening. I’m feeling much better.”

“Keegan.”

“I said no,” he snapped, softer but unyielding.

“I won’t be kept down while the students are gathered, while Malore tests the Wards, while Gideon…

” He trailed off, fury and grief tangling his voice.

Then he looked at me, and the stubborn line of his mouth softened just enough.

“Don’t ask me to sit this out, Maeve. Not now. ”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to drag him back, shove him under blankets, and force him to sleep because what if this sudden boost of energy was a trick? Malore gets them out in a fight and then destroys them?

But I knew that look in his eyes. It was the wolf in him, the protector, the man who’d been left once and swore he’d never leave anyone else behind.

So I nodded. “Fine. But stay with the others.”

“When have I obeyed?” A smirk appeared. “I’m feeling fine.”

For now.

A roar outside prickled the edges of the Academy, and my heart stuttered.

“Gather everyone. I will meet you soon.”

Keegan’s mom and my grandmother started down the corridor with the others reluctantly following, including Keegan.

I waited until their footsteps faded, until their voices became threads tugging at the air.

Then I slipped away.

My sandals whispered against the flagstones as I moved quickly, keeping to shadows where the lantern light didn’t quite reach. I knew where I was going, even though I hadn’t spoken it aloud. I didn’t need to. My bones remembered. My blood did.

The place called to me in a way nothing else had since I’d arrived in Stonewick.

I should have gone with them. Should have stood tall in the banquet hall, gathered strength with the others, and smiled reassuringly to students who needed me to be a pillar. But some things can’t be shared. Some answers can’t be found in the open.

This place, what it held, what it protected, was too important to leave to chance. And too dangerous to trust to anyone else.

The corridor narrowed, the air cooling as I went deeper. I thought I heard the faint brush of fabric behind me, but when I glanced back, there was nothing. Only shadows stretching long and thin, curling like fingers.

My stomach twisted, but I pressed on.

Each step closer pulled tighter at the thread inside me, the one that had been tugging since the day I first crossed the Wards. Every instinct screamed this was where I needed to be. Not just to protect it, but to find the truth buried within it.

Because the fight with Malore wasn’t just about brute force. It wasn’t just about gathering allies or holding the line. It was about unravelling the lies that had bound us, stitching together what had been torn apart.

And this place held the needle and thread.

My breath caught as I finally reached the archway, its stones older than any part of the Academy I had walked before. Carved vines twined up the pillars, their leaves worn smooth by time. The spells pulsed faintly here. I rested my palm against the cool stone, my heart thudding in my chest.

This was it.

The place I had to protect. The place that might hold the answers we needed.

I drew in a steadying breath, the sound trembling in the stillness. Behind me, faintly, I thought I heard the distant murmur of voices rising from the banquet hall, the students being gathered, the instructors weaving calm through the storm.

But here, it was only me.

And the weight of what waited beyond.

I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and stepped forward.

Because no matter what the shadows whispered, no matter how little time we had, I knew this:

The answers were here.

And I would find them.

The corridor narrowed as I went deeper, the lamps thinning to a spaced-out scatter of glow that made the stone look like it held swallowed stars. The stairs did their trick again.

Click, sigh, pivot.

They turned mid-step beneath my feet until up became over and the landing I thought I was aiming for slid away like a frisky cat.

I didn’t fight it. The Academy liked to pretend it was a maze, but once you let it choose for you, it stopped sulking.

I passed my bedroom door, familiar wood, the little scuff where a gargoyle’s talon had nicked it, and kept going. The air changed there, cooler, edged with metal and rain. Somewhere past the next bend, the walls breathed.

“All right,” I whispered, more to my thudding pulse than to anyone else. “I’m coming.”

Something bright fluttered at the corner of my vision. The key.

It bobbed like a pleased sparrow, catching the lantern light along its filigree. When I reached for it, heat licked my fingertips.

It wheeled once above my palm, then zipped forward, and I followed as it stitched a line of light down the corridor. We were past the known parts of the Academy now, past classrooms and dorms and the banquet hall, past my ordinary life. The stone here was older.

The key hovered, and I took it with a familiarity that warmed me.

When the door opened, the air smelled of smoke and thunder, and something sweet, like cinnamon bark, snapped in two.

My shoulders dropped. There’s only one place that smelled like this.

The dragon den hummed like a heartbeat, its stone walls trembling as though the Academy itself was uneasy.

Crystal veins along the ceiling pulsed with light, scattering reflections over the dragons gathered in the cavern’s center.

Their scales shimmered, gold, silver, deep red, and their eyes, ageless and knowing, pinned me where I stood.

I pressed my hand against the cool wall to steady myself.

The largest of the dragons lowered its massive head until its golden eyes blazed in front of me. Its voice poured into my thoughts like fire in the veins. You come seeking strength. But strength alone is never enough. Sacrifice is the marrow of this magic, I’m afraid.

A shiver rippled down my spine.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

The silver dragon, long and sinuous as a river, stirred.

Its voice was softer, but no less powerful.

The Hunger Path cannot be closed without sacrifice.

Malore cannot be unmade without it. Each who stands will be asked to give something, some more than others.

Do not mistake sacrifice for loss. It is the price of balance.

My throat tightened.

“So someone has to…” I faltered, the word tasting like ash. “Die?”

The red dragon’s scales flared, glowing like embers fanned by wind. Not always death. Sometimes it is the surrender of anger when it is easiest to hate. Sometimes it is choosing forgiveness when vengeance would taste sweeter. And sometimes… yes. Sometimes a body falls so that others may rise.

The cavern shook, a low groan rolling through the stones. Dust sifted from the ceiling, and all three dragons lifted their heads at once. Their eyes gleamed brighter, their bodies taut.

He calls, the silver one murmured, a chill curling through the air. The one who wears hunger as a crown. Malore presses against the walls. He seeks you.

My hand shot to my chest, where the Flame Ward’s heat pulsed hot and sharp, like it wanted out.

“He knows I’m in the Academy planning.”

The gold dragon leaned closer, its heat enveloping me, steadying me. Then let him know you are not afraid. He feeds on fear, on division. If you stand in unity, if you carry courage even when it costs you, you are already stronger than he can imagine. Some may falter. Some may perish.

The trembling deepened; the roar outside the den grew louder and nearer. I staggered, but the dragons’ warmth steadied me, their voices wrapping through my bones like a promise.

I forced my spine straight, though my knees shook. “Then I’ll stand. I’ll fight. Whatever sacrifice comes… I’ll carry it.”

The dragons’ voices rose together, resonant, endless. So be it.

And as the den shook again, I knew I would soon see what sacrifice truly meant.