Page 24 of Magical Mirage (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #6)

Twobble crossed his legs like he was settling in to tell a ghost story, though the way his ears tilted forward told me this one was very much real.

“All right,” he began, waving one hand dramatically.

“Last time I saw him, Skonk was going on,” He paused to glance at me with mock disapproval.

“About your lack of culinary spells, Maeve. He said, and I quote, ‘ I feel bad depending on the kitchen sprites for every edible thing, but if I stray too far from the Academy kitchen, things get dicey. The cottage is no place to end up if a goblin gets hungry .’ End quote.”

Keegan’s mouth twitched, fighting a smile. I gave him a flat look that only made the corner of his lip curve higher.

“Funny,” I said, folding my arms. “But he could learn how to conjure a pie or two. You did.”

“That’s what I told him!” Twobble said, throwing his hands up. “I said, ‘Cousin, you wouldn’t know a soup spoon from a stirring wand,’ but he was on a roll. Went on about how it was an outrage you hadn’t at least learned a roast potato charm by now.”

Keegan finally let out a chuckle. “He’s not entirely wrong.”

I gave him the same flat look. “Et tu, Keegan?”

“Just saying,” he replied, all faux innocence.

Twobble, clearly enjoying this, leaned forward. “Anyway, after that, he got serious. Which, let me tell you, isn’t something I like seeing on Skonk. He said he was worried about Gideon. Swore he saw him the other day.”

My stomach tightened. “Where?”

“Near the far side of the village,” Twobble said, his voice dropping a shade lower.

“Past the old bridge where the Wards thin. Skonk said he was sure it was him. The person had the same stance, same smirk. But when he went to investigate…” Twobble’s nose wrinkled.

“Came up empty-handed. No footprints, no smell, nothing. Like he’d never been there. ”

Keegan’s posture sharpened, all traces of amusement gone. “And you didn’t think to tell anyone this sooner?”

Twobble bristled. “I did, but Skonk told me not to. Said he didn’t want to start a panic until he was sure. He was going to look into it himself.”

I groaned. “Of course he was.”

Twobble’s gaze softened slightly. “If he did see Gideon, then Skonk’s disappearance might not be about some random wandering. It might be connected.”

Keegan’s jaw tightened. “If Gideon’s moving in the village, he’s either testing the Wards or looking for something.”

“Or someone,” I said quietly.

Twobble’s eyes darted between us. “Which is why we have to find him fast. Skonk might be annoying, but he’s quick, clever, and knows how to disappear. If he didn’t do this on purpose, then something’s wrong. And all clues point to him thinking he’d be right back.”

Keegan nodded once, already thinking ahead, as he scanned Skonk’s desk. He stilled and glanced at me as the air in the small room shifted, and he held up a sheet of paper with red, dribbled wax on it.

“Is this Skonk’s handwriting?” he asked.

Twobble straightened and narrowed his eyes on the red scrawl. “No, it’s not.”

“Home Hurt,” I read two simple words aloud. “Then who would write it?”

“Candlebert,” Twobble said confidently. “The wax color matches.”

“But it’s a candle,” Keegan started.

“What’s your point?” Twobble scowled as if it were every day that candles were sentient and wrote hidden messages. “Besides, it wasn’t there when I looked at his desk. It’s obviously a new message.”

“You’re telling me that a candle heard our conversation and decided to jump in?”

“Precisely what I’m saying.” Twobble scowled. “I wouldn’t have missed red candle wax sprawled across a sheet of paper a minute ago. That message is new.”

“Okay, home,” I said, realizing I had no idea where that actually was.

I could still hear Skonk’s grumbling in my head, about my nonexistent kitchen magic, about lemon tarts and kitchen sprites, but his endless loyalty made this personal.

It wasn’t just about a missing goblin anymore.

It was about the shadow in the mist, the thing circling the Flame Ward, and the old enemy who might be back in our streets.

And that was a combination that made my blood run cold.

Twobble hopped off the bed with a determination that made his vest flare out like a cape. “Come on then, no point sitting around breathing in stale goblin absence. We need to find my cousin. If Candlebert says to start at Skonk’s house, then that’s what we should do.”

Keegan gave me a sidelong look, clearly measuring his energy before nodding.

He didn’t move like someone who had fully recovered yet.

There was still a stiffness in Keegan’s shoulders, and the kind of reserve that told me he was holding some of his strength back.

But he didn’t say a word about staying behind.

I wanted to tell him to rest. I wanted to insist. But after what Twobble just told us, Candlebert’s message, and the shadow circling the Flame Ward still fresh, I knew better.

Skonk could be hurt.

We stepped out into the corridor, and the hush of the Academy settled around us. Most students were gone, the handful that stayed speaking in low voices that echoed faintly through the halls.

Here and there, I caught the sound of knitting needles clicking, probably from the group Luna had charmed into learning yarn arts. That made me smile for a second. It was a small, stubborn piece of normalcy.

But the moment passed quickly as Twobble’s quick stride led us down the side stairs, through a heavy oak door, and out into the chill air of the courtyard.

“Maybe Skonk was just homesick,” I said, mostly to keep the conversation from turning too grim too soon.

Twobble snorted without turning around. “And I still say you clearly don’t understand the sacredness of Skonk’s hoard. He wouldn’t abandon Candlebert without force or worse.”

“Yes, you can see a real kinship between the two,” Keegan said flatly, and I hid a chuckle.

The summer sunlight filtering over the rooftops was pale, washed out by the thickening gloom overhead. It wasn’t the same as the storm-dark skies I’d grown up with. This shadow felt more alive.

I found myself glancing at Keegan, half-hoping he’d reassure me that I was imagining it.

He didn’t.

Something didn’t sit right.

There had to be more to this. Between the silver wolf, Malore’s sudden strength and appearance, and the curse mostly broken, Gideon would be more cautious.

Wouldn’t he?

What would he want with a goblin?

And if he weren’t connected with the shadows above…

We reached the Butterfly Ward’s gate, the vine-wrapped iron gleaming faintly in the strange, dim light.

Beyond it, the air shimmered with magic. Twobble didn’t head for the gate, though. He veered to the side, toward a narrow archway half-hidden by a curtain of flowering vines.

“This way,” he said, holding the vines back for us. “I hear something.”

The air smelled of lavender and rain, and for a moment, the weight of the gloom above seemed less. We weren’t near the Hedge, but things felt…lighter.

Unfortunately, the unease didn’t fade.

Keegan moved with quiet focus.

“What if Skonk was lured?” I asked.

“It would take something impressive…” Twobble broke off, his ears twitching. “You hear that?”

I strained to listen. At first, there was nothing but the leaves of the vines brushing one another in the still air. Then, faintly, a sound like distant bells.

Keegan’s gaze locked on mine. “That’s not a normal Ward resonance.”

Twobble swallowed. “No. It’s not.”

The three of us stood there for a moment, the gloom pressing down from above, the Butterfly Ward’s light shimmering gently between us and whatever lay beyond.

If Skonk had stumbled into something he wasn’t supposed to see, we might already be too late.

“It sounds like a mirage,” Twobble said, snapping his gaze to me.

“A mirage?” I questioned.

Twobble frowned and shook his head. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what a mirage is.”

I shrugged. “Not in magical terms.”

Twobble tilted his head and grinned. “Picture this, you see something that you can’t reconcile in your head, but it’s something you need and crave…”

“Okay. Like water in a desert.”

“If you say so.” He eyed me suspiciously. “Anyway, then you walk toward it, and it snatches you.” He shrugged. “Or you fall into it.”

I laughed and shook my head. “See? I knew there was a magical catch.”

“Well, you’re right. He got lured to a mirage.” Keegan pressed his lips together and let out a sigh. “But who’s casting them?”

The thought settled in my chest.

“We need to get to his house.” Twobble’s voice was edged with worry. “We’ll check there first.”

“No short cuts that are long cuts, I hope?” I asked, realizing I had absolutely no idea where we were heading. Skonk’s house could be many towns away or farther.

“No time for silly business,” he muttered, motioning for us to follow him.

The streets of Stonewick were mostly empty, except for the occasional shopkeeper putting out a display or sweeping their stoop and readying for the onslaught of summer tourists. The smell of steeping tea from Stella’s tea shop drifted toward us.

Keegan kept pace easily enough, though I noticed how he shifted his stride to keep his breathing even. That knot of worry in my chest tightened.

“Where exactly are we headed?” I asked, matching Twobble’s pace.

“You’ll see,” he said.

I groaned. “Not this again.”

“It’s important!” he insisted, but his ears tilted back just enough to tell me he was still rattled from finding Skonk’s room empty. “And this time, I mean it. Super secret stuff again. For goblins’ eyes only.”

“I swear, Twobble. If we wind up at the Academy again, no pastries for you,” I warned.

“I know better than to wear things out.” His little body nearly hopped from stone to stone. “This is serious.”

We passed the shops and cafes. People looked up as we went by. Some offered polite nods, others watched with a wariness I didn’t like. It wasn’t just us they were keeping an eye on; it was the sky, too.

Keegan glanced upward, his expression unreadable. “That’s worse than this morning.”

I followed his gaze. The gloom had deepened into something close to twilight, but it also had the heavy, greenish quality of air before a tornado.

“I don’t think that’s weather,” I murmured.

“It’s not,” Keegan said flatly.

Twobble slowed just enough to turn and walk backward, his small face unusually serious. “That’s exactly why we have to keep moving.”

We left the market and slipped into a narrow side street, the kind that felt older than the rest of the village, with crooked beams and walls leaning toward each other as though conspiring.

This was where the cobblestones were uneven enough to trip the unwary.

Keegan’s steady hand at my back was the only reason I didn’t go sprawling when I caught my toe on a loose stone.

Twobble led us between two shuttered buildings and into what looked like a dead end, only to duck under a sagging clothesline and squeeze through an opening between stacked barrels.

“Secret alley,” he announced proudly.

Keegan eyed the narrow gap. “That’s a generous term.”

I grinned despite the tension. “You’ll fit. Probably.”