Page 23 of Magical Mirage (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #6)

The mist swirled one last time where the shadow had been, then retreated into the trees like water pulled down a drain. It left the path deceptively ordinary, but the cold still clung to my skin.

Twobble let out a sharp breath and rubbed his arms, though the weather was mild.

“Whew. Okay. First off, I swear to you, I have no idea what that was.” He cut us both a look, defensive and jittery, like we’d accused him of pulling the stunt himself.

“And second, that is not what I brought you to see.”

I tightened my grip on Keegan’s hand, the warmth of his skin grounding me. “You really didn’t drag us out here for that ?”

“Nope.” Twobble popped the p like he was trying to spit his nerves out with it. “That thing? Never seen it before in my life. And I don’t like surprises that aren’t mine.”

Keegan’s brow furrowed. “It wasn’t random.”

I nodded. “It was skirting the Flame Ward. Tracing it. Like it was testing…”

“For a way in,” he finished grimly.

Twobble made a disgruntled noise, half groan, half growl. “Well, whatever it was, it’s gone now, so…”

“It’s not gone,” Keegan said, calm but firm. “It’s waiting.”

The way Twobble’s ears twitched told me he agreed but didn’t want to admit it.

“You’re probably right. And I hate that.

But!” His voice pitched high again, too bright.

“That’s not what we’re here for. Come on.

This way. What I meant to show you is much more worrisome than that thing. Just come this way.”

“Why are we starting back towards town?” I asked. “We were already there.”

“To throw off anyone’s prying eyes,” he answered as if it were the most reasonable answer ever.

Before I could argue, he darted into an alley so narrow I had to angle my shoulders to fit. I’d never noticed it before, probably because it was never meant to be used. His little vest bounced with determination as his feet slapped against the uneven stones.

“Where exactly are we going?” I asked, nearly tripping on a jutting cobblestone.

“You’ll see,” Twobble chirped, which wasn’t an answer but was certainly his favorite.

I groaned. “You’re infuriating.”

“That’s what makes me charming,” he replied, hopping over a step as though this were a leisurely stroll.

Twobble led us through what had to be the longest “shortcut” in existence. We darted down long alleys, curved alleys, and short alleys, all connected but seemed to lead to nowhere and somewhere all at the same time.

We saw light and followed him out of the brick maze when I was half-convinced this was a goblin’s version of a practical joke, but then he gracefully leapt over a drainage ditch while I looked like a drunk circus performer.

By the time he ducked under an arch I hadn’t even known existed, I was out of breath and more than a little suspicious.

Keegan, of course, looked steady as ever, though I caught the subtle pinch of his brow that told me even he was wondering if Twobble had gotten lost.

“Twobble,” I called after him, stepping carefully over a cobblestone that looked loose enough to send me tumbling, “we’ve officially walked more in the last fifteen minutes than I usually do in a week. Any chance you’ll tell us where this grand detour ends?”

He glanced back with a mischievous grin. “Patience. You’ll see soon enough.”

I sighed, catching Keegan’s amused smirk out of the corner of my eye. “I swear, he just missed our company and didn’t know how to express it.”

“Bold words,” Twobble said, clambering up a short wall and hopping down the other side. “Goblins can get along just fine without witches. It’s the other way around that is a problem.”

And then, the Butterfly Ward shimmered ahead.

I stopped short, hands on my hips.

“Wait a second. You dragged us halfway across the village, through every back alley and side path imaginable, just to bring us to the Academy?”

“The back entrance of the Butterfly Ward,” he corrected.

Truthfully, I never gave much thought that there could be more than one way to enter.

“But back at the Academy nonetheless.” My brows lifted.

Twobble puffed up, looking downright offended.

“Just the Academy? Just ?” He jabbed a little finger in my direction.

“You say that like it’s an ordinary walk across the square.

And let me tell you something. Goblins never do ordinary.

If we were born extraordinary, why would we waste time pretending otherwise?

Not to mention, we need to keep what’s floating above on its toes. ”

Keegan coughed into his hand, trying and failing to hide a laugh.

I pressed my lips together, pretending to stay serious as we marched through the Butterfly Ward. “Extraordinary or not, you could’ve just said, Hey Maeve, hey Keegan, let’s go to the Academy , and spared us the scenic tour of every questionable side street in Stonewick.”

Twobble’s eyes widened in mock horror. “Spare you? Spare you the grandeur of the goblin way? Do you have any idea how much planning goes into making a shortcut longer than the long way? It’s an art form.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “You’re impossible.”

“And proud of it,” he said, strutting through the Ward’s gate as if he owned the place.

Keegan leaned closer, his voice low with dry humor. “Remind me next time to ask for directions from literally anyone else.”

We trailed after Twobble through a side entrance where the halls were still, lined with narrow doors, the scent of stone and polish lingering in the air.

Twobble stopped abruptly at a blue-painted door with a crooked brass plate.

Room 14.

Without ceremony, he shoved it open and announced, “And here we are. Skonk’s room.”

I looked at him, still catching my breath. “All this time, and you could’ve just said that in the first place?”

He smirked, sharp and smug. “But where’s the fun in that?”

Keegan leaned closer, shoulder brushing mine. “What do you think he’s hiding?”

“Knowing Twobble? Anything from a pile of enchanted licorice to an ancient prophecy scribbled on the back of a bakery napkin.”

The room wasn’t empty.

It was full.

Skonk’s chaos had been preserved like a goblin museum exhibit with piles of shiny buttons spilling out of a cracked jar, random marbles under the bed, and a scarf with suspicious scorch marks draped across the chair.

The bed was unmade, the blanket half sliding off.

A spoon with a carved goblin face glared from the nightstand.

The air smelled faintly of oil and burnt sugar.

An odd combination.

Keegan frowned. “Looks like he just left.”

“That’s the point!” Twobble’s voice cracked.

He stormed inside, weaving through clutter. “He didn’t take anything. Not his treasures, not his trinkets, not even his socks. If Skonk was leaving, he would’ve dragged half this junk with him and half of mine too, just to annoy me. But it’s all here.”

I stepped in carefully, the floor creaking under mismatched piles of… well, everything. “So he didn’t plan to leave.”

Twobble spun, eyes bright with worry. “Exactly! He never intended to leave at all. Something took him.”

The words sank into me like cold water.

I picked up a scrap of ribbon twisted into a knot. It had been placed deliberately on the desk, as though Skonk had been halfway through a project. The candle beside it still held the faintest scent of smoke. “This is fresh.”

Twobble nodded furiously. “Yes! And now he’s gone without his lucky marble, without his carved spoon, without even Candlebert.” He pointed at the dragon-shaped candle, wax pooled in its wings. “He loves Candlebert.”

Keegan’s jaw tightened. “So he didn’t walk away. He was taken.”

“Or lured,” I added.

Twobble wrung his little hands, pacing in tight circles. “I knew this would happen. I told him to stop muttering about Gideon. He swore he saw him lurking the other day, but when he checked, nothing was there. I thought maybe he was just being dramatic. But now…”

“But now,” I said softly, “we can’t ignore it. Plus, we just met something lurking on the edge of the Flame Ward.”

The room felt heavier, like the shadows were listening. My heart thudded in my ribs as I glanced at Keegan. He didn’t speak, but the look in his eyes told me he was already planning.

Twobble stopped pacing, planted his fists on his hips, and looked at us both. “We find him. Whatever it takes. No one else gets to take Skonk from me. If someone is going to make him an example, then that someone is going to be me.”

For once, there was no humor in his tone, only raw conviction.

My thoughts flickered back to the books I’d combed through recently, half-deciphered scrolls on curses, brittle journals filled with ink-splotched speculation, and that one text about the shadows that sometimes clung to shifters when they strayed too far from their rules.

They all pointed to patterns of vanishing, of lives disrupted in moments that looked too ordinary to be dangerous, to betrayal, and worse.

Skonk’s vanishing fit too cleanly into that shape. The only thing that didn’t make sense was why him. He wasn’t a threat to Malore or Gideon.

I rubbed my temple, the possibilities stacking too high, too quickly. Maybe the books were wrong. Maybe I was missing something right in front of me.

Skonk had always been the one to dive nose-first into trouble, and trouble had a way of noticing.

“Maeve?” Keegan’s low voice pulled me back. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching me with that sharp, quiet patience of his.

I nodded once, but my eyes slid to Twobble. He was pacing at the foot of the bed, his little hands clasped behind his back, muttering under his breath as though he could piece together his cousin’s absence if he just strung the right words in the right order.

“Twobble,” I said gently. His pacing stopped. “I need you to tell me everything. The last time you saw him. The last time you two were together…what did he say, what did he do, what felt… off?”

His ears twitched, and he hopped up onto the bed beside me, knees bent, shoulders tight. For once, he didn’t have a quip ready on his tongue. He stared at the floorboards as though the memory might crawl up from the wood.