Page 3 of Magical Mirage (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #6)

The cottage felt like it was painted with an extra brushstroke of magic tonight. It wasn’t just me who needed a break from the whirlwind of magical chaos, and to have my friends plan a get-together for the night felt special.

I stepped onto the porch, breathing in deeply as twilight dipped the sky in shades of lavender and pink. Two weeks of uninterrupted peace stretched out before us, a rarity in these muddled days.

Now, with summer sessions waiting patiently in the wings, we had this brief window of calm, and everyone was determined to enjoy every moment of it.

Fireflies lit up, sparking a unique magic among the trees, and tables had been draped in smooth linens, overflowing with platters of Stella's homemade pastries and specialty blended teas.

Strings of enchanted lights, spun by Lady Limora herself, with nothing more than a snap of her fingers, bobbed lazily above the garden path, creating little pools of warmth against the twilight.

“You've truly outdone yourself,” I said appreciatively as Lady Limora swept by me, elegant as ever, arranging a cluster of glowing blooms in a crystal vase.

Limora offered a gracious smile, her dark hair cascading around her shoulders like spun moonlight. “Magic thrives in moments like this, Maeve. Moments of joy and peace. It reminds us all why we’re fighting so hard.”

I nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. Days like these, quiet and unassuming yet touched by quiet enchantment, were rare gifts recently.

Tonight was a gentle reminder of all we’d built, all we stood to protect, and everything still worth fighting for.

I glanced at Keegan and pushed my worry away as Skonk skittered through the trees.

“Skonk promised no mischief tonight,” Bella teased as she reached me, pressing a ripe peach into my palm.

“Oh, did he now?” I laughed, turning the peach slowly in my hand, enjoying its softness and scent. “Something tells me Skonk’s definition of mischief might differ from mine.”

Her laughter danced through the garden like bells, warm and infectious. “Perhaps. But tonight he might surprise us and behave.”

Before I could reply, Nova walked out of the cottage as she raised a small hand in greeting.

“Don’t worry. If Skonk gets any ideas, I have an anti-mischief potion prepared,” Stella remarked, genuine warmth lacing her voice.

I chuckled and nodded. “Noted.”

Luna arrived with a warm smile spreading across her gentle face as she handed me a beautifully knitted shawl.

“For chilly evenings,” she explained. “It’s been enchanted to always feel like a warm hug.”

I pressed it to my chest and touched it. Luna always seemed to know exactly what was needed without asking.

“Thank you,” I whispered, gratitude thickening my voice. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Luna chuckled. “You survived your first semester of students.”

I chuckled as Ardetia appeared at the gate, ethereal in her quiet elegance, slipping silently through the group and finding a comfortable seat near the glowing fire Twobble had just snapped together with a flick of his fingers.

“Congratulations,” Ardetia said, waving.

“I don’t feel like I deserve that, but thanks.”

“The Academy is still standing, and that is a win in my book.” She shrugged, laughing as I rolled my eyes.

“Glad to see the bar is set so low. Takes the pressure off.”

My heart stilled as I saw Keegan striding toward the cottage. The fading light caught him just right as he carried a bundle of fresh-cut firewood, looking utterly at ease with the simple act.

The sight of him was comforting, reassuring, and a little thrilling all at once. When our eyes met, his smile softened into something just for me. Maybe the curse hadn’t physically worn him out as much as I’d worried about.

He set the wood down and squeezed my hand gently as warmth bloomed in my chest.

My father’s laughter rang through the air, and I stilled. I’d expected him to stay at the Academy to rest and catch up with his mom. I spotted him walking with Skonk and lifted my brows.

“If that doesn’t look like trouble, I don’t know what does,” I teased as they reached us.

The shadows that haunted my dad’s eyes had faded considerably these past weeks, and tonight his joy felt genuine.

“Feels good to celebrate something for a change,” he said, squeezing my shoulder gently. “Not to mention it feels pretty incredible not to walk on all fours.”

If I had my way, I’d just latch onto him like I had when I was a little girl, but time had created boundaries, and I did my best to abide by them, even though I slid my arms over his neck and gave him a big kiss on his cheek.

“It does,” I agreed softly, savoring the rare, sweet moment of peace between us. “Even though you’re standing in front of me, I still expect Frank to roam past me.”

“And toot,” Skonk eyed my dad. “Don’t forget that mess.”

Twobble walked over and groaned. “I never understood how you could be so gassy. You either snorted, farted, or burped. I’ve eaten far worse and don’t have any indigestion problems.”

I chuckled and shook my head. “It wasn’t that bad.”

My dad laughed and shook his head, looking freer than he’d had in a long time.

Not long after my dad turned back from his shifted form, I’d asked him if he wanted to be called by his given name, Alaric, or if he’d prefer Frank.

He told me he preferred Frank, so I made certain to list Frank Bellemore on all of his upcoming classes.

Skonk’s eyes sparkled with restrained excitement once he saw Stella watching him.

“No mischief tonight!” he promised, loudly enough for Stella to narrow her eyes suspiciously. “Just snacks, celebration, and a few unsavory jokes.”

Before anyone could respond, a gust of wind ruffled my hair, and I turned my gaze upward just as Karvey and the other gargoyles glided effortlessly overhead.

Their massive stone wings cast shadows across the ground.

Deep laughter echoed through the air, rich and comforting as it had always been.

It was strange how something so fearsome in appearance could feel so protective and warm.

Karvey settled gently on the garden wall, nodding respectfully toward me.

“Beautiful evening for a party, Maeve,” he rumbled, eyes twinkling. He spotted Skonk and frowned.

“Even better with your company,” I replied sincerely, meaning every word.

The evening blossomed gently around us, conversation flowing easily like the soft trickle of the nearby stream. Skonk managed to charm rather than irritate, regaling us all with wildly exaggerated tales of his adventures, prompting unexpected bursts of laughter from even Stella.

“I’m just saying,” Skonk proclaimed, ears twitching for emphasis, “a respectable goblin doesn’t inhale an entire mint bush and call it quality control.”

Keegan settled beside me, our shoulders brushing lightly as we listened. His presence warmed me in a way the enchanted shawl never could, steadying something deep within.

It was a beautiful thing, I realized…this unlikely family we had built from fragments of different worlds, bonded not just by magic but by shared hope and kindness. This evening was a testament to our resilience, a celebration of the ordinary magic that was as powerful as any spell.

For just tonight, beneath the flickering lanterns and the watchful gaze of the gargoyles above, the darkness stayed at bay. We laughed, shared stories, and let the gentle pulse of magic surround us, buoyed by friendship, courage, and a quiet promise whispered between the stars.

Because no matter what awaited us when summer arrived, tonight belonged only to laughter, joy, and the steady, comforting embrace of magic.

Twobble snorted. “Respectable? You once tried to pay rent with glittering beetles, not because they were enchanted or anything useful. You’d glued sequins onto them. That is shady.”

“Currency is a flexible concept,” Skonk shot back. “Unlike your waistband after all that mint, Twiblet.”

Twobble gasped.

Keegan’s mouth twitched. “Do we separate them or sell tickets?”

“Tickets,” I decided, setting the tray beside him. “The gargoyles could handle concessions.”

As if on cue, Karvey swooped overhead, stone wings catching the setting sunlight.

“Five copper for a ringside seat,” he rumbled, circling lazily. “Includes a complimentary pebble to throw at the loser.”

“Put me down for two!” Stella called from the steps, her sapphire cloak billowing like an indignant cloud. She carried an ornate teapot. “And please remind the stony gentleman that I prefer my projectiles sugar-coated.”

Karvey saluted with one massive claw, then landed on the chimney, dislodging a puff of soot that drifted onto Skonk’s head. The goblin shook it off, glared upward, and muttered something about flying garden statues with delusions of grandeur.

I went inside and carried out the last tray of honey–lavender tarts from the kitchen onto the porch and found Keegan leaning against the railing, arms casually folded. At the same time, he pretended not to eavesdrop on the two goblins sparring at the foot of the garden.

Lady Limora walked toward us with Vivienne, who’d just arrived carrying a basket.

“What’s in there?” I asked.

“Enchanted marbles,” she said brightly. “They roll toward whoever’s telling the tallest tale. Very helpful at a party like this.”

Twobble and Skonk exchanged gleeful looks, nothing like weaponized party games to keep the cousins entertained.

Bella drifted over from the herb beds with a handful of fresh spearmint and tucked it behind Twobble’s ear.

Mara appeared without a sound, materializing beside the maple tree with a plate of shimmering pastries.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. The first batch turned out a little too strong.”

“Batch of what?” Lady Limora asked.

“Sugar-dust moon puffs,” she explained in her quiet lilting voice. “They taste like your favorite memory, so consume responsibly.”

Keegan raised a brow. “Define responsibly.”

“Less than four,” she replied, glancing at Twobble and Skonk as if guessing exactly who would ignore that advice.

The goblins both shrugged off her advice and reached for the pastries.

“Four,” she repeated.

I passed Keegan a moon puff.

“Two weeks of rest,” I said, “if we can call this rest.”

He bit into the pastry, eyes half-closing. “If this is rest, let’s be lazy more often.”

Skonk hopped onto the porch rail, rolling one of Luna’s marbles in his palm. It rolled away from him and stopped in the middle of our group.

Limora smiled, eyes sparkling. “Very well. I’ll play the game. Once, in the Court of Crystalline Gulf, I negotiated peace between a kraken and a fleet of star-sailing merchants by teaching them synchronized swimming.”

The marble rolled across the boards and stopped at Lady Limora’s slipper.

She lifted it delicately. “Apparently, I’m a notorious embellisher.”

Skonk cupped his ear. “Go on. Prove the marble wrong.”

The marble glowed bright ruby.

Twobble whistled. “Either that’s a colossal fib or the kraken’s choreography was dreadful.”

“I’ll have you know the kraken’s sea sweep is legendary,” Limora sniffed. The marble dimmed to a respectful teal.

“Which part was the lie?” I asked.

Lady Limora winked at me. “It wasn’t in the Crystalline Gulf, but synchronized swimming did bring peace.”

Stella tapped her teapot with a fingernail. “If diplomacy is the bar, I’ll simply remind everyone I once convinced a were-boar to go vegan. He now runs a salad bar in Losshire.”

The marble rolled her way, lighting up lemon-yellow.

“Exaggeration,” Nova diagnosed. “He’s pescatarian at best.”

Laughter rippled through the garden.

Gargoyles traded jokes overhead, stone puns so groan-worthy the cottage shutters shivered in protest.

Keegan leaned close, voice pitched for me alone. “Moments like this make the curse feel small.”

I nodded, watching Twobble sneak a moon puff while Skonk distracted Mara with dramatic bowing. They’d had more than three. “Small but stubborn. We take our victories where we can.”

Music swelled as Nova and Bella coaxed melodies from enchanted leaves that whirled through the air like tiny green violins. Fireflies joined, blinking like applause.

Twobble grabbed Skonk’s wrist. “Dance contest.”

“Judged by whom?” Skonk asked warily.

“Karvey,” Twobble declared.

The gargoyle rumbled in delight. “Loser dusts my wings.”

The cousins sprang into a hopping, spinning routine equal parts goblin folk dance and spontaneous limb flailing.

Limora discreetly cast a slow-motion charm on them.

Their antics became a dreamy ballet of elbows and ears.

Luna’s marbles rolled in excited circles, unsure which goblin fabricated more swagger.

Bella wiped tears of happiness and smiled as the goblins slowed.

Keegan squeezed my hand again. “Look at them,” he murmured. “No fear tonight.”

And it was true. For one luminous evening, the weight of curses, shifting darkness, and looming battles lifted.

I leaned against Keegan’s shoulder, watching Skonk attempt a cartwheel that ended in Twobble’s arms. The cousins toppled into a giggling heap, marbles chasing them like eager puppies.

“We could bottle this feeling,” I whispered.

“Already did,” he said, tapping his chest. “Right here. Won’t let it go.”

“You’re such a romantic,” I teased, leaning my head on his chest.

The gargoyles above us raised a booming cheer as Karvey declared the dance contest a tie, on the grounds that his wings required polishing regardless. Twobble and Skonk groaned in unison, then high-fived in goblin solidarity.

Stella poured steaming mugs of peach-rose tea, handing them round.

“To two weeks of doing absolutely nothing useful,” she proclaimed.

“To mischief without malice,” Skonk added.

“To rest that actually restores,” Nova said.

“To friendships stranger than fiction,” Lady Limora offered.

Vivienne, Mara, and Opal agreed with cheers.

We clinked cups. I closed my eyes for a breath, committing every glow, every laugh, every hint of mint on the breeze to memory.

But then I felt it again…that prick of darkness as I scanned the surroundings and wondered if I was becoming paranoid.

Because tomorrow the work would begin again. There would be curses to crack, Wards to strengthen, and shadows to chase. But tonight belonged to us, to the simple magic of being together under lantern light and stone wings, safe for now, hopeful for later, and thoroughly alive.

I just never expected what was to come.