Page 4 of Magical Mayhem (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #7)

The bramble mule basked in attention as though it had been born for the stage, but the longer I stood there, the more my skin prickled.

Something about the mule was… off.

Its eyes were too sharp, not soft and liquid like an ordinary creature’s, but crystalline, with amber facets that caught the light and threw it back in ways that felt unnatural.

And while the garlands seemed cheerful enough, some of the blossoms wilted and revived in the span of seconds, pulsing like a heartbeat.

Granted, I’d never seen a bramble mule before.

I forced my smile to stay in place, but my magic buzzed under my skin, uneasy.

Twobble, meanwhile, leaned against a tree stump, arms crossed smugly as if he’d orchestrated the entire spectacle.

“Well, look at that,” he declared loudly. “First day of summer session, and the Academy already has its first attraction. It won’t be long before we’re running a petting zoo. Tickets, two dollars. Snacks extra.”

The students laughed, clapping their hands, one of them even pulling out a coin pouch with a grin.

I couldn’t help it. I smiled.

“You might be right, Twobble. At this rate, we’ll be bottle-feeding unicorn foals by autumn.”

“Finally!” he exclaimed, puffing out his chest. “A proper job for me. Zookeeper. I’ll even wear a hat.”

The laughter bubbled higher, and for a moment, the worry loosened its grip on my chest. The mule tossed its head, showering the air with flowers like confetti, and the students oohed and ahhed, delighted.

But then the forest beyond caught me.

At the far edge of the clearing, where the path bent toward the Wilds, the trees stood unnaturally still. Not a breeze stirred their branches, and the shadows pooled too deep, blacker than they should have been in early afternoon light.

And something in me pulled toward it. A thread, invisible but undeniable, tugging low in my chest like a hook set in my ribs.

I stiffened, breath catching.

The Wilds had always thrummed with their own strange music, but this was different. This felt personal.

“Hey!” Twobble squawked, earning another round of laughter from the students.

I slipped backward, weaving between satchels, until I reached the clearing’s edge.

“What is all this?” Ardetia’s eyes narrowed as her gaze landed on the bramble mule.

Her voice took me aback.

“Chaos incarnate,” I called back lightly, though my voice wobbled. “Compliments of the Wilds.”

Ardetia tilted her head, studying the creature with an intensity that made even the students quiet. “I have not seen its kind before.”

Nova frowned, staff tapping once against the ground. “It does not belong here.”

The students gasped at that, but the mule only flicked its ears, entirely unconcerned because it was here, regardless.

Twobble hopped forward, spreading his arms wide like a showman. “Nonsense. It’s a gift. Look at it. It’s got flowers, sparks, and a winning personality. If the Academy doesn’t start charging for tickets, I’ll start. But all proceeds will go to the goblin snack cupboard.”

The witches chuckled nervously, eager to believe his optimism. Their fussing over the mule resumed, though now with an edge of excitement.

Apparently, nothing thrilled students more than forbidden creatures.

But that created my chance to sneak off.

While all eyes shifted toward the bramble mule, I slipped into the trees. My sandals stepped over the moss, as my cloak brushed against ferns. The tug inside me grew stronger with every move, guiding me deeper into the hush.

The forest closed around me quickly, swallowing the sounds of laughter until all I could hear was my own breath and the faint crackle of energy at the edge of my senses.

The Wilds were beautiful in their strangeness.

Moss glowed faintly underneath vines that twisted like curious serpents.

I paused by an oak, laying my palm against its rough bark.

My heart hammered, and I whispered to myself, “What are you trying to show me?”

The only answer that came was the insistent pull dragging me further in.

I hesitated, torn between duty, the students, Nova, the others, and this undeniable compulsion to follow. But in my bones, I knew that something waited in the Wilds. Something that would not wait much longer.

I glanced back through the trees.

From here, I could still see the edge of the clearing.

Nova’s tall form was steady as a statue.

Ardetia’s copper hair catching the light.

Twobble bounced like an overexcited child, earning indulgent laughter from the students.

And at the center of it all, the mule preening, sparks flickering brighter, blossoms blooming faster, almost feverishly.

None of them noticed me. Not yet.

I drew a breath, squared my shoulders, and stepped further into the woods.

Whatever waited, I had to know.

The moment I ventured deeper into the Wilds, the air changed.

It wasn’t just cooler, though the breeze carried a chill that raised goosebumps along my arms. It was alive in a way that made my skin prickle. The forest pulsed, each leaf and branch thrumming faintly, as though the whole place had taken a deep breath the night of Moonbeam and hadn’t exhaled yet.

Fresh vines looped across the trunks, supple and green, as though they’d grown overnight. Wildflowers pushed up at the bases of trees, their petals glowing faintly in the dim light, blues and yellows and one stubborn white daisy that swayed as I passed.

But it was the mushrooms that stole my breath.

Bright red caps dotted the moss, each one rimmed with a silvery edge that gleamed faintly like dew even though the ground was dry.

Some were small and clustered like buttons, others broad and flat, big enough that Twobble could have used them as stools.

They hadn’t been here before, not in spring.

Not even a week ago, when I last dared to take a walk this far.

Summer had painted the Wilds with a heavier hand, almost too heavy.

I knelt briefly, brushing my fingers over one of the mushrooms. It was unnaturally warm, considering I was in a dark forest, but my magic shivered in response.

I stood quickly, brushing my hands on my skirts, my heart beginning to pound.

The path was faint at best, but the pull in my chest urged me onward.

The vines thickened, arching over my head, twining into shapes that looked almost deliberate, half-formed runes.

Flowers opened as I passed, and my pulse beat louder in my ears.

I told myself I wasn’t afraid. Only cautious. Only aware. But every step seemed to sink me deeper into a place that was watching me as closely as I was watching it.

The Wilds had never been ordinary, but tonight they pressed close, clinging like a second skin.

Something cracked behind me.

I whirled, heart hammering, only to see nothing but shadows layered against the thick trunks. No mule, no Nova, no Ardetia, no curious students trailing after me. Just me, the vines, the mushrooms, and the hush.

I forced myself to breathe.

“You’ve done this before,” I whispered. “You can do it again. Just keep walking.”

The words steadied me enough to keep moving. My sandals brushed through fallen needles, sending the scent of pine spiraling into the air.

The mushrooms brightened, reacting to my steps and glowing faintly in ripples. My magic prickled and sensed patterns that I couldn’t quite read. It was like looking at messages written in spores and light.

The deeper I went, the more wrong it felt. The Wilds weren’t just shifting with summer. They were rewriting themselves.

A fallen log split with new growth and vines spilled like veins over its bark.

A pool of water I didn’t remember gleamed in a hollow, reflecting not the canopy above but something darker, and I hurried past with quickened breath.

Every nerve screamed that I shouldn’t be here. And yet the tug in my chest pulled harder, relentless, drawing me deeper.

The trees closed in tighter, branches woven like fingers, shadows bending in unnatural ways. I brushed against a vine, and it coiled briefly around my wrist before releasing me. I shivered, half from fear, half from wonder.

My heart thundered now, too loud, as though the Wilds might hear it.

I tried to remember the safety of the courtyard, the sound of the students’ laughter, and Twobble’s ridiculous boasting. But those memories felt far away, already slipping like sand through my fingers.

Then I heard it.

A voice.

Low, close, threaded with a character that froze me where I stood.

Maeve.

Again. My heart stopped.

It was only one word, only my name, but it carried weight enough to steal the breath from my lungs.

I spun, scanning the trees, the shadows, the glowing mushrooms, but no one stood there. No silver wolf eyes gleamed. No hulking figure lurked between the trunks. No familiar face peered from the vines.

Only the echo of that voice curling through the hush.

It could have been Malore.

It could have been Gideon.

It could have been Keegan.

My mind clutched all three, with dread and hope twisting into one terrible knot.

The shadows thickened, the mushrooms glowed brighter, and my magic surged up hot and untamed as if preparing to fight or to flee.

But the voice came again, softer this time as it rippled over my skin.

Maeve.

My knees nearly buckled. I gripped the nearest tree to ground me while my heart slammed against my ribs.

I wanted to run. I wanted to answer. I wanted to cover my ears and pretend I hadn’t heard it at all.

Instead, I stood trembling in the forest and waited for the voice to speak again.

It didn’t.

And the silence that followed was worse.