Page 42 of Magical Mayhem (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #7)

The air still trembled with the aftershocks of Malore’s laughter.

The shadows pressed like a tide, recoiling only when I forced the Academy to answer through me.

My power held, pulsing with fire and Hedge magic, but I could feel them straining, each heartbeat a tug-of-war between my will and his endless hunger.

I drew in a ragged breath as the truth settled in me like a stone.

Even if we defeated Malore, no single victory would unravel the hunger he’d twisted to his will. The path would still exist, waiting, devouring, tempting.

We still needed the circle. My dad, Gideon, Keegan, and I needed to survive.

But none of that mattered if we didn’t stop him here, tonight.

If Malore broke through, if the shadows flooded Stonewick and bled the Academy dry, there would be no one left to fight tomorrow. No one left to stand in the circle.

We had to stop him. We had to buy ourselves the chance.

And for that… Gideon had to live.

I clenched my fists tighter, vines of electricity straining as another wave of shadows slammed against them. The sound rattled my teeth, but I refused to let go.

“Maeve.”

Keegan’s voice was rough and torn, but still steady enough to cut through the storm.

I glanced at him. His chest heaved, his skin pale, but his eyes were fastened on me. Fierce. Alive.

“You’re holding too much,” he rasped. “It’ll burn you out.”

“I don’t care,” I said, my throat raw. “We can’t let him through. Not now.”

“You think you can end him alone?”

I shook my head, jaw tight. “You’re right.”

If Keegan noticed my voice cracking, he didn’t show it. He just planted his feet beside me, his fists sparking faint blue again, and glared into the darkness like he could tear Malore down through sheer will.

I turned back toward the rip in the air, vines flaring, and let the thought burn clear and cold in me.

Defeating Malore wouldn’t end what he’d started. But it was our only chance to end him. To stop this endless pursuit to divide Stonewick, to divide families, to break us until nothing remained.

And if Gideon stood with us, if my father, Keegan, Gideon, and I stood together, then maybe, just maybe, we could stop what Malore had begun so long ago.

But only if we survived tonight.

Another impact shook the barrier, harder than before. Sparks erupted where Malore’s shadow pressed his will against mine. My arms ached, my vision blurred, but I forced my body to stand.

Behind me, the students chanted again, this time louder. Together. Together. Together.

Their voices steadied me. This wasn’t about me alone. It never was.

I shouted back into the storm, my own voice breaking. “You won’t divide us, Malore!”

His laughter answered, low and taunting, echoing through the skies.

But I clung to the burn in my chest, to Keegan at my side, to the students pressing forward with light and flame and fury. I clung to the vision of Gideon in the circle, no longer our enemy but our ally.

We would end this pursuit to divide, even if it broke us first.

I knew what I had to do.

And I would not fail.

The shadows surged again.

And I braced, ready to burn myself hollow if it meant we had a chance.

My energy trembled under the pounding weight of shadowed claws, every strike rattling up my arms until my teeth ached.

The Academy’s walls behind were groaning.

Its runes bled light into the shadows as power surged like a living heartbeat, rushing through my arms, scorching my veins, sparking light behind my eyes.

At first, I thought it was only the Butterfly Ward whispering to me with the hush of magic calming my breath.

But then I felt it: the steady weight of Stone Ward anchoring my spine, the fiery spark of the Flame Ward thrumming in my chest, the sweet maple warmth threading through my blood like honey, feeding me endless energy.

Each Ward was reaching for me, not just protecting, but offering. Lending me pieces of themselves.

It wasn’t one Ward.

It was all of them.

And as their strength flowed into me, I realized I wasn’t standing alone at all. The Wards of Stonewick had chosen us to lift the light into the world.

I staggered under the force of it, but instead of breaking, I rose taller. Stronger. My fears, my doubts…they burned away in the heat of the Flame Ward, dissolved into the grounding hush of stone, lifted in the bright wings of butterflies.

I was not just Maeve, the fumbling Hedge Witch who botched brownies. I was Maeve, chosen by the Wards, alive with their memory and strength.

Somewhere beyond, Malore’s call echoed through the night, dark and terrible. But for the first time, I didn’t flinch.

I burned brighter.

We were ready.

The courtyard was chaos. Shadows swirled like a black tide, crashing against clusters of shifters and witches who fought shoulder to shoulder. Lightning licked across the stones, illuminating faces twisted in determination and fear. And there, in the thick of it…

“Dad!”

His voice bellowed, clear even above the roar. He was in his human form, holding a torch in one hand like it was a spear, his other arm outstretched to shield a witch struggling with her charms. His movements were steady, stubborn, the way he always had been, whether bulldog or man.

And at his side, leaping like a wild thing from shadow to shadow, was Twobble.

His grin was feral, his knife flashing in one hand as he darted low under a beast’s claws and slit it across the belly.

The shadow shrieked, bursting into smoke, and Twobble didn’t even pause before he shouted something I couldn’t hear and dove at the next one.

My chest clenched. Malore hadn’t just thrown his shadows at the doors. He’d lured fighters outside, baiting them into the open where the Wards couldn’t shield them.

But I couldn’t think of that now. Not with the storm pressing heavier, the air crackling, and the shadows suddenly parting as though bowing to their king.

And then I saw him clearly.

Malore.

He stepped from the fog as though he had always been there, as though the storm had been stitched to his shoulders. His wolf body was made of shadow and stormlight, taller than any man, broader than the gate itself. His face flickered with jagged edges, eyes burning like dying stars.

He towered over me, the courtyard stones shuddering under his weight.

But I didn’t wither.

My heart thundered, my hands trembled, but something inside me steadied. I had faced curses and betrayals, illusions and grief. I had faced Gideon’s darkness, Keegan’s curse, my own doubts.

And I was still standing.

If Malore thought I would bow, he hadn’t been listening.

I straightened, planting my feet wide, the storm tugging at my hair and cloak.

“You want Stonewick?” My voice cracked but carried. “You’ll have to go through me first.”

His laugh rolled through the courtyard, low and mocking, shaking the stones themselves.

“Through you? You are nothing but a Hedge Witch clinging to borrowed fire. Do you truly think you can stand against me?”

“I don’t think,” I said, my throat raw but steady. “I know.”

He lunged.

The world split.

His shadowed hand reached for me, claws longer than spears, slicing through air and storm. For a heartbeat, I froze, every instinct screaming to run.

But my boots held.

And then I raised my hands—not for fire, not for vines.

For earth.

The courtyard groaned.

The stones beneath me shuddered, cracks splitting like lightning across their surface. Soil surged upward, not soft garden dirt but the bones of the land itself. It answered me, roaring through my veins, rising to shield me.

The Wards were behind me.

A wall of jagged earth erupted from the ground, meeting Malore’s strike with a crash that shook the night. Sparks flew as claw met stone, the impact rattling my ribs. But the wall held.

I stared at it, my breath ripping from my chest. I hadn’t even known I could do that.

Malore’s eyes narrowed, light flaring. “So the land itself answers you. No matter. It will be yours to bury you.”

He struck again, faster, sharper, his claws raking across the earthen wall. Cracks split down its center, dust spraying my face. I threw my arms wide, pouring more of myself into it, feeling the stones pulse with my heartbeat.

The ground answered, the courtyard trembling as new spires thrust upward, jagged and sharp, stabbing into his shadowed form. He staggered back a step, hissing, smoke curling from the wounds.

Behind me, I heard the gasps of fighters, the shouts of witches and shifters rallying at the sight. My father bellowed something like a cheer, and Twobble’s laughter sliced through the storm.

But Malore wasn’t finished.

Malore stood on his hind legs and the storm itself bent to his command. Shadows boiled around him, swirling like a vortex, his voice rising above it all.

“You cannot hold me. You cannot end me. The path is mine to command.”

The storm answered his roar, the ground splitting in jagged lines toward me. My knees buckled, the earth trying to drag me under.

I forced my palms flat against the stones, shouting with every ounce of will I had left.

“Not yours. Never yours!”

The earth heaved. Stone rose in a circle around me, a ring of jagged pillars that locked into place. They pulsed with light, not mine alone but the heartbeat of Stonewick itself.

Malore lunged again, and I braced, my pulse racing with the rhythm of the land.

The battle had begun.

And I would not yield.

Malore’s form shimmered with storm light, his shadow edges flickering like torn banners in the wind. He threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the courtyard and rattling the Academy’s very bones.

“Pathetic,” he bellowed, his voice rolling like thunder. “Shifters, witches, fae, linking arms as if unity could shield you from what is inevitable. Weak. Frail. You think yourselves strong because you clutch at one another like frightened children?”

The fighters behind me bristled, wolves growled, fox-fire flared, runes lit brighter, but his words still landed, heavy and piercing. I could feel it in the line of my father’s shoulders, in the way some students shifted their stance, doubt cutting like a blade.

That was his power. Not just the shadows. Not just the curse. Division.

Every family sundered, every clan scattered, every heart turned against another fed him. He thrived on the fracture, on fear whispering that your neighbor could not be trusted, that your ally would betray you. The more we splintered, the stronger he became.

And hadn’t he already won so much of that fight? Gideon turned. Keegan cursed. My parents divided. Stonewick itself torn from Shadowick.

He had always been on both sides, blending fear and temptation, pulling strings until no one could remember what was truth and what was a lie.

My heart hammered as the realization dug in. We could not let him divide us again.

“Weak?” I shouted back, my voice cracking but fierce. “No, Malore. Weakness is ruling through fear. Weakness is tempting with darkness because you can’t stand the light. We aren’t weak because we stand together. We are strong because we do!”

For the first time, his smile faltered. But only for a moment.

“Then I will break you first,” he growled.

And with a roar that split the storm, Malore leapt. His shadowed form stretched wide, claws gleaming with stormfire, his whole being plunging straight toward me.

I braced, the earth trembling under my boots, and I knew this was the strike that would decide everything.