Page 31 of Magical Melee

Nova’s smile deepened, and she looked at me with that same unnerving intensity she’d had earlier in the tarot room. “Sometimes, knowledge isn’t passed down by words. It’s in the blood, in the soul. Stonewick may have been hidden from you, but part of you belongs to it.”

I swallowed, my mind racing with questions. “Did you spend a lot of time with my dad?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

She looked away for a moment as if considering her words carefully. “Your father was a kind man, quiet and thoughtful. He was… drawn here, just like you are. But he chose to protect you from a life tied to this place.” She met my eyes again, herexpression solemn. “But Stonewick has a way of calling its own back.”

We stood there in silence, the weight of her words settling over me like a cloak. I looked down the empty street, feeling a strange mixture of dread and longing. There was so much about my family, about myself, that I suddenly didn’t understand.

And Celeste.

Would she think I went off my rocker?

I was in my mid-forties, teetering on the belief of something nonsensical.

“Your daughter is your blood. Your father’s blood. She will always have an open mind when it concerns you.” Nova placed a gentle hand on my shoulder as I trembled with the knowledge that she just read my mind.

“Come with me,” she said softly. “There’s something you should see.”

I hesitated but found myself nodding.

Curiosity and a deep sense of trust guided my steps. I turned from the towering building and back down the sidewalk past the tea shop until we hit a small, narrow alley.

The stones underfoot were slick and worn smooth by countless footsteps, but I didn’t sense it was from the tourists. At the end of the alley was another tiny iron gate, half-hidden behind creeping vines. The lock had a butterfly sculpted similarly to the candle.

Nova pushed it open with a creak, revealing a garden bathed in moonlight.

The space was unlike any garden I’d ever seen. Tall, shadowy plants with dark leaves that should have dropped longago shielded strange blossoms that bloomed with perfectly lush petals.

“It’s fall in Wisconsin,” I said quietly, looking over at Nova. “Leaves have long since dried up, and blooms have withered away.”

“Yes.”

She didn’t offer an explanation, but Frank sat down on my foot.

I appreciated the familiarity of the bulldog more than ever. He was the only thing keeping me grounded.

As herbs and flowers revealed themselves, I stepped deeper into the garden, the leaves nearly sparkling from the moonlight. Plants that I didn’t recognize filled the air with a sweet, earthy scent.

And Frank stayed by my side with each step forward.

Stone statues stood at intervals, each worn with age, their faces serene and watchful.

But they weren’t human figures, not completely.

“This is the heart of Stonewick,” Nova said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “A sanctuary, hidden from the outside world. The garden has been here for centuries, tended by those who understand its secrets.”

I stepped around, moving in a circle as my gaze drifted over the statues and flowers, feeling the buzz of energy that pulsed through the air. I stopped in front of a particular statue—a woman with a gentle, wise face, her hand extended as if offering something unseen. Something about her felt achingly familiar. Sharp and pointy ears peeked through the long, swirling hair.

“This statue…” I said, glancing at Nova. “It feels like… I know her, but she’s not…human.”

Nova nodded, her eyes soft. “That’s Miora, a guardian of the town’s magic. She kept Stonewick safe long ago and passed her knowledge down through her descendants. Your father once stood here, Maeve, in this exact spot and felt the same recognition.”

A chill ran through me, and I reached out, my fingers brushing the cool stone of Miora’s hand. “So my family… we’re connected to her? To Stonewick?”

“Yes,” Nova said, her voice a mixture of pride and sorrow. “Your family carries the legacy of the guardians. But not everyone embraces that legacy. Your father… he tried.” She didn’t finish. “And your mother, she tried to keep you from it. But it’s in you, Maeve, waiting to be awakened.”

I dropped my hand, the weight of this revelation settling over me like a blanket of fog. The idea that I had a history here, that Stonewick’s secrets were intertwined with my own, felt both terrifying and exhilarating.

“But this place is just a tourist destination,” I said, shaking my head.