Page 39 of Magical Mayhem (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #7)

I eyed the women and creatures before me in awe.

The Academy had opened its doors for this very purpose.

For midlife witches, shifters, and fae who had thought their days of magic were over.

For the second chances, the forgotten, the ones who carried scars like talismans.

And now here they were, sleeves rolled up, wands and charms in hand, ready to defend the place that had called them home.

I swallowed hard. I couldn’t let myself think about what might happen if I failed them.

Nova stood at the tall windows, speaking in that quiet voice that made people lean in, whether they wanted to or not.

She was teaching her cluster how to scry not in bowls of water, but in the shifting fog outside the glass.

A woman with streaks of silver in her hair gasped as an image shimmered into focus, and Nova only inclined her head, encouraging her to look again.

Across the room, Ardetia knelt by the fountain centerpiece, vines snaking over her fingers as she showed her group how to knot their strength into talismans.

The witches and shifters mimicked her motions, clumsy at first, but laughter soon bubbled when a charm sparked bright enough to make a sprite sneeze midair.

Bella’s group was louder, of course. She perched on the edge of a table, tail flicking, demonstrating how a fox moves unseen through shadow.

Her students laughed nervously when she shifted mid-sentence, fur rippling into place before she disappeared entirely.

Their laughter turned into applause when she reappeared behind them, smirking as she tapped one witch on the shoulder.

Stella had gathered her cluster near the long side of the hall.

Folk amulets, sachets, and teapots clinked together as she handed out bundles.

“Every household trick is a shield if you do it right,” she declared, pressing a sprig of rosemary into one student’s hand and a string of dried apples into another’s.

“You think this is nothing? Try telling that to a shadow who doesn’t like flavor. ”

Ember hovered by the hearth, her glow dim but steady.

She was showing her group how to bind memory into charms, drawing on the warmth of shared stories.

The students leaned close, recounting the names of lost family and friends, knitting them into the circle Ember traced.

Their faces softened, eyes shining with grief and love, and the Wards became stronger for it.

Lemonia worked with quiet precision, her chalk etching sigils onto the floor as her students copied her lines. Runes bloomed into light, steady and orderly, and those who had felt scattered only moments ago now stood taller, their magic flowing into form.

I walked among them, listening, watching, my chest aching with pride. And guilt. Always guilt.

They had trusted me to lead them into this. And if I failed…

No. I couldn’t think like that. Not here, not now.

The Academy opened its doors for this. For them. For me. For Stonewick.

I was in the center of the hall when movement caught my eye.

Two women crossing toward me.

The first was my mother. Her steps were purposeful, and her expression was unreadable in the way that always made me brace. The second was Keegan’s mother, silver hair gleaming even under the dim lanterns, her bearing regal despite the weight in her eyes.

Together, they cut through the groups like a knife through silk. Conversations faltered as the students noticed, some whispering, others simply staring. The two women did not falter or hurry; they simply came straight to me.

My mouth went dry. I glanced instinctively toward Keegan, but he was busy with Ardetia’s group, his attention fixed on the students there. Good. For now.

When they reached me, it was my mother who spoke first.

“Maeve,” she said, her voice pitched low enough that only I could hear. Her eyes flicked once toward the students, then back to me. “We need to talk.”

The way she said it made my skin prickle.

It wasn’t her usual sharpness, the tone that made me feel twelve years old again. It was steadier, graver as if the weight in my chest had found its echo in hers.

I drew a slow breath, steadying myself. “About what?”

But she didn’t answer. Not yet.

She only held my gaze, and beside her, Keegan’s mother’s expression gave away nothing.

I felt the walls of the Academy hum around us, like even the stone was listening.

And in that moment, I knew: whatever this was, it mattered.

It mattered more than I was ready to admit.

I didn’t trust the heaviness in my mother’s voice, or the way Keegan’s mother stood beside her like a shadow that had decided, finally, to step into the light. But the look in their eyes told me this wasn’t a conversation that could be shrugged off.

“All right,” I said, my voice steady even though my stomach was anything but. “We’ll talk.”

Before I let myself be pulled into whatever this was, I glanced across the room where Stella stood fussing with her group, tying lavender sprigs into charms. She caught my look immediately, of course she did, and stalked over, shawl swishing like a war banner.

“You need me, darling?”

“Yes,” I said, lowering my voice. “I need you to take a team to Gideon. He can’t be left alone, not while Malore’s pressing this hard.

Take Skonk and Twobble, and…” My eyes found the trio of vampire ladies, Opal, Vivienne, and Mara, lounging near the far table with teacups in hand like the sky wasn’t splitting above us.

“The rest of the vamp gals. If anyone can keep watch without flinching, it’s them. ”

Vivienne raised her brows at me across the hall, clearly having heard her name, and tapped the rim of her teacup in a way that said We’ll see. Opal smirked, and Mara stretched like a cat who’d been waiting for precisely this sort of trouble.

Stella pressed her lips together. “Gideon. Always Gideon. You’re certain this isn’t just one more disaster to trip into?”

“I’m certain he’s part of this, whether we want him to be or not,” I said. “And I need to know he’s watched by people I trust.”

She leaned closer, lowering her voice so only I could hear. “Don’t forget to breathe while you’re playing Commander, Maeve. No one likes a fainting heroine.”

I almost laughed, almost, but nodded my thanks. “Keep him safe.”

Stella’s shawl flared as she turned, snapping her fingers at Skonk and Twobble, who scrambled to catch up. The vampire trio glided after them, muttering and giggling like this was a social call instead of a watch over a fallen mage. I exhaled once they were gone.

When I turned back, my gaze snagged on Grandma Elira.

She stood at one of the tall windows, her form more fragile than I wanted to admit.

Her eyes dimmed against the angry churn of the skies outside.

The fog swirled thick, shot through with lightning that never quite struck the earth.

Elira’s expression was far away, distant, as though she saw something none of us could stop.

Her lips moved faintly, but no sound came.

She’d always been full of secrets.

My chest tightened. She had lived through this once before. She knew what it looked like when Stonewick was about to split.

And I think she thought we were standing on the edge of it again.

I dragged my attention back before despair rooted me where I stood. My mother was watching me closely, and Keegan’s mother’s eyes, so like his, were tracking my every move.

“All right,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “I’m listening. What is it you needed to tell me?”

My mother’s gaze flickered toward Keegan’s mother, then back to me.

“It isn’t simple,” she said carefully. “And I need you to hear it all before you…”

The air cracked.

The sound wasn’t thunder. It was sharper, closer, like the very stone of the Academy walls splitting under strain.

A shockwave of energy rushed through the hall, rattling lanterns and knocking a tray of cups from a sprite’s hands.

The floor under my boots vibrated as though a giant had stomped the earth from below.

Students gasped, some ducking instinctively, others clutching their instructors’ arms. The Wards in Stonewick hummed through the air like a storm warning.

“Down!” someone yelled, but it was already too late.

A bolt of raw energy tore through the air, white-blue, jagged, and furious. It didn’t strike stone or wood or flesh. It ripped through space itself, leaving a wound that hissed and spat arcs of lightning.

Through the crackling haze of magic, I saw him.

Keegan.

He pushed himself upright from where the shockwave had nearly knocked him flat, his body trembling with the effort. Every muscle in his frame was taut, every breath ragged, but his jaw was set with that stubborn defiance that had always made me both want to kiss him and throttle him.

I felt it before I saw it. His strength flickered, building, as though something unseen fed him from the shadows themselves. His hazel eyes darkened, his shoulders squaring as if he could take on the entire storm alone.

And for a heartbeat, pride filled me. Relief. Awe. He was standing when by rights he should have collapsed. He was standing when the curse had gnawed him nearly to the bone.

But then the gnawing started in me.

What if this wasn’t just willpower? What if this strength wasn’t his? What if it was the curse, Malore’s twisting, coiling tighter, lending him the same dark power it had sunk into Gideon?

The thought clawed at me, sharp and cold.

Then he looked at me.

Our gazes locked across the chaos, and my heart stilled. His eyes weren’t hollow. They weren’t Malore’s.

They were Keegan’s…steady, unyielding, fierce with the same loyalty that had carried me through every fire yet.

He was still Keegan.

He couldn’t be changed.

…Could he?

The taste of metal filled my mouth. My hair lifted from my scalp. My arms burned with static.

“No,” I whispered, staring at the tear unraveling in the air like a seam ripped by unseen claws.

There was no more time.

Malore was no longer content to test the skies.

He was here.