Page 17 of Magical Melee (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #1)

I woke up to pressure on my chest and the unmistakable sensation of something—or someone—hopping up and down on me.

Before I could fully process what was happening, a high-pitched voice pierced through my haze of sleep.

“Come on, come on! So much to do. So much to see!”

I groaned, peeling one eye open, only to be met with a pair of enormous, glimmering eyes staring directly into mine.

“Twobble?” I croaked, still half asleep. “You’re not a morning person, are you?”

Because I most definitely was not.

“Morning? It’s practically midday!” he exclaimed, bouncing excitedly on my chest. “Well, not really, but who’s counting? You humans sleep too much. Get up, Maeve! We’ve got secrets to uncover, and I’ve been waiting forever for you to wake up. It’s nearly seven o’clock.”

I pushed myself up on my elbows, forcing him to tumble off me and onto the bedspread with a dramatic oomph .

I glimpsed Frank, who had been snoozing peacefully on the couch downstairs, crack one eye open and let out a long, exaggerated sigh—the bulldog equivalent of a very judgmental frown from below.

“Frank agrees,” I said, smirking at the goblin who now sat cross-legged on my quilt, his big ears twitching with impatience. “What exactly are we doing that couldn’t wait until I’ve had at least one cup of coffee?”

Twobble’s face lit up with a mischievous grin. “Oh, you’ll see. This cottage holds secrets, Maeve. Deep, dark secrets. Well, not all of them are dark, but some are quite juicy! And who better than yours truly to reveal them?”

I rubbed my temples, still trying to wake up fully. “Let me guess. This is another one of your goblin services?”

“Exactly!” he said, puffing out his chest. “The first tour is free. I’ll even throw in some answers to your burning questions. But after that, it will cost ya.”

Frank sat up on the couch, giving Twobble a hard stare from below. His wrinkled face did its best impression of disapproval. Twobble waved dismissively at the bulldog. “Oh, hush, you grumpy lump.”

Frank let out a soft growl.

“Alright, fine,” I said, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “Let’s get this over with. But if you start bouncing on me again, I’m locking you in a cupboard.”

Twobble gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “You wound me, Maeve. But fine, no more bouncing—unless you fall behind. Now, let’s go!”

I followed Twobble down the steps and greeted Frank, who’d jumped off the couch. His stubby legs worked overtime to keep up as I walked to the windows.

The cottage was quiet with the early morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the wooden floors. Twobble darted ahead, his small frame almost a blur as he gestured wildly at various objects.

“Over here, we have the original hearthstone,” he said, pointing to the fireplace with a flourish. “Laid by the first caretaker of this cottage. Legend says she was a mighty witch, capable of summoning storms with a mere whisper. If you touch the stone, you might be able to feel her.”

“No, thank you.” I raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought it was just a fireplace.”

“Everything has a story, Maeve,” Twobble said, wagging a clawed finger at me. “Even the ordinary. Especially the ordinary. That hearth was carved from the same stone as the town’s original flame ward, imbued with enchantments to guard against dark forces and to anchor the home in a web of protective energy.”

“So, this is the Stone Ward I read about?”

He nodded. “And a formidable witch named Miora laid the hearthstone herself over a century ago. Miora was known for her ability to summon storms, but her true strength lay in her connection to the land. The hearthstone became the focal point of her magic, a conduit for her spells that kept the cottage safe through countless trials.”

I ran my fingers along the old stone, feeling the warmth of the fire.

Wait, fire?

“Twobble, did you start the fire for us?”

His wiry body swayed toward the kitchen with each step. “First time is free. Second time, I’ll charge ya.”

He led me into the kitchen, where he hopped onto the counter and tapped a jar of dried herbs. “And this? Not just thyme. This is ghost thyme for seasoning your soup and summoning spirits. Dual-purpose herbs are very popular in the goblin community. We might do a trade now and again since you’re broke.”

I snorted, crossing my arms. “You’re making that up.”

“Am I?” Twobble said with a sly grin. “Try using the herb sometimes. You might be surprised.”

Frank let out another disapproving grunt as if to say, Don’t encourage him.

Twobble hopped down from the counter and scurried back toward the bookshelf in the corner of the living room. He tugged at a particularly thick tome, but it didn’t budge.

“A little help, please?” he called over his shoulder.

I walked over and pulled the book free. It was heavier than I expected, and its bulky leather cover was worn and embossed with a symbol I didn’t recognize.

“This book,” Twobble said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “contains the family records of every caretaker who’s ever lived here. Your father’s name is in there somewhere.”

“My dad was a caretaker here?” I stared at the book, my heart skipping a beat. “Why didn’t you show me this sooner?”

Twobble shrugged. “Didn’t seem like the right time. Plus, you hadn’t asked yet. He grew up here.”

My heart stopped. This was my dad’s childhood home?

“That would make sense why we’d come back to visit,” I muttered, setting the book down on the table. “So, what’s next on this magical mystery tour?”

Twobble’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Follow me. This is the best part.”

He led us to the center of the living room, where he began tapping his foot on the wooden floorboards, muttering to himself. “It’s here somewhere… Ah!” He stomped once, and the hollow sound echoed through the room.

He crouched down and pried open a small, hidden panel in the floor, revealing a dark, narrow staircase descending into the earth. A faint, eerie glow emanated from below.

“Ta-da!” Twobble said, gesturing grandly. “The hidden cellar. Or, as I like to call it, the Secret Vault of Untold Wonders .”

“That’s quite a mouthful.”

Frank whined softly, peering over the edge, clearly unimpressed by Twobble’s theatrics. I couldn’t blame him. The idea of venturing into a glowing cellar first thing in the morning wasn’t exactly appealing.

“What’s down there?” I asked, trying to sound braver than I felt.

“Answers,” Twobble said simply. “And maybe a few surprises. But don’t worry, nothing that bites. Actually, I can’t guarantee that either.”

I gave him a skeptical look. “You’re really selling it.”

Twobble grinned. “Trust me, Maeve. You’ll want to see this.”

With a deep breath, I grabbed a lantern from the shelf and turned it on, the warm glow chasing away some of the shadows. “Alright. Let’s see what’s so important.”

Twobble led the way, his small frame disappearing down the staircase with surprising agility. Frank and I followed more cautiously, with the wooden steps creaking under our weight.

The air grew cooler as we descended, carrying the faint scent of earth and something else—something ancient.

At the bottom of the stairs, the space opened into a cavernous room. The walls lined with shelves held more jars, scrolls, and strange artifacts. In the center stood a large stone pedestal mirror, its surface etched with intricate runes that pulsed faintly with light.

“This,” Twobble said, his voice reverent, “is the heart of the cottage. Some might say the heart of Stonewick, but I don’t agree. This here is a repository of knowledge and power, passed down through generations.”

I approached the large pedestal mirror, my eyes drawn to the runes carved in the wood. They seemed to hum softly, resonating with a rhythm I couldn’t quite place. “What does it do?”

“Depends,” Twobble said, hopping up onto the edge of the pedestal. “For some, it reveals hidden truths. For others, it grants visions of the past. It’s a reflection of what you seek or what you want hidden.” His bony shoulders shrugged.

I reached out, my fingers hovering just above the surface.

“And for others…” He took his index finger and ran it over his neck. “It can mean death.”

His words smacked me like a fish to the face, and I quickly pulled my hand back. “Death?”

“It doesn’t happen that often,” he assured me. “And usually only to people who don’t belong here.”

I laughed and shook my head. “I’m starting to understand why everything isn’t just revealed all at once.”

“Go on.” His eyes widened. “Give it a whirl.”

“I don’t think I’m quite ready to give anything a whirl that can kill me. My daughter just started college, and I need to be around for her because her father is out gallivanting with his mistress.”

“Okay.” He whistled and cinched his brows together. “A little TMI, but that’s okay. Still fresh. Still fresh.”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Anyway, I don’t think today is a good day to die.”

“I don’t either,” he agreed. His forehead wrinkled. “The odds are in your favor.”

“Still not selling it.”

“You want some answers?” Twobble’s eyes gleamed. “Go for it.”

Taking a deep breath, I placed my hand on the pedestal. The runes flared brightly, and a wave of warmth surged through me, carrying with it a flood of images and sensations.

I saw my father, younger and full of life, standing in this very room. He was speaking to someone—Nova, perhaps—his expression serious yet determined. The scene shifted, and I saw my childhood self running through a sunlit garden, laughing as I chased after a fluttering butterfly.

And then it hit me.

I grew up in this home, too.

Until…

Then, the images grew darker. A stormy night, shadows creeping across the walls, and a figure cloaked in darkness. Its eyes glowed with an unnatural light.

I gasped, pulling my hand away as the visions faded. My heart raced, and I felt a strange mix of awe and unease.

“What was that?” I whispered, my voice shaking.

Twobble hopped down, his expression unusually serious. “The past, the present, and a hint of the future. This cottage holds many secrets, Maeve. But it also holds the key to understanding who you are.”

I stared at the pedestal, my mind racing with questions. Whatever this place was, it was more than just a home. It was a gateway to something far greater—and far more dangerous—than I had ever imagined.

Frank nudged my leg. His presence grounded me. I reached down to scratch his head, grateful for the steady comfort of my loyal companion.

Twobble, ever the opportunist, broke the tension with a grin. “Well, that was fun, wasn’t it? And to think, we’ve only just begun!”