Page 33 of Magical Mirage (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #6)

There were a thousand things I could have said, accusations, retorts, outright refusals, but the sincerity in his voice tangled with the unease already curling in my chest.

I stepped back toward the porch. The boards creaked under my shoes.

But before I could take another step, the air rippled and the pulse from the ground surged again. Something in Shadowick was waking.

Gideon’s jaw tightened. He glanced over his shoulder, toward the deeper forest, then back at me. “If you see her, don’t speak.”

“Who?” I demanded.

He only smiled faintly. “You’ll know.”

And then, as suddenly as he’d appeared, he stepped back into the shade of the woods, and the shadows swallowed him whole. I didn’t breathe for several seconds after he vanished. My hands were cold. My knees felt unsteady.

But I couldn’t linger.

I bolted for the door, shoving it open and slamming it behind me. The air inside the cottage was cooler, heavier, but at least it was free of Gideon’s voice curling through it.

“Twobble? Skonk?”

Nothing.

My stomach twisted. I’d told them to go, told them to get out. Had they listened?

I moved through the dim rooms quickly, every creak of the floorboards sounding too loud. The walls seemed closer than before, the shadows deeper.

I took one last look around the Shadowick cottage. The shadows clung stubbornly to the corners, and something in my chest heaved at the thought of leaving them behind.

Then I stepped forward. Heat wrapped around me, blinding and all-encompassing, and for half a heartbeat, the world was nothing but light and motion.

A low hum rose from the hearthstones, and before I could take another breath, the world folded in on itself, light, soot, and shadow collapsing into a single pull.

When it snapped back open, I was standing in Undersoot’s goblin cottage, the hearth spitting out a last curl of ash as if it had just swallowed the place I’d left behind.

Relief surged through me.

Finally, faint but distinct, came the muffled sound of goblin bickering.

I followed the sound until I saw them.

Through the window, a flash of Twobble’s vest and Skonk’s familiar scowl swept over me in relief. They were near the edge of the clearing, their heads whipping around when they saw me.

I waved and stepped outside to greet them.

“About time!” Twobble snapped. “We were about to come drag you out of Shadowick ourselves!”

“Sorry about that. I just needed to see,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“See what? If Gideon is still a grown man wreaking havoc? Playing by his own rules?” Skonk barked.

“Something like that.”

But the truth was that I’d learned Gideon was weakening too. There was no attempt to capture me, no battle, no long-winded rants. He didn’t have the strength he had even two weeks ago. And even more importantly, I learned that he felt the curse had broken the night of the Moonbeam.

I frowned. “Why?”

“Because,” Twobble said in that infuriating tone that suggested I’d just asked why water was wet, “you need a cleansing.”

I blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“You just traveled through the goblin ways,” Twobble continued, his little legs moving like wind-up clockwork. “And judging from that dazed look on your face, you left half your common sense in Shadowick.”

I planted my hands on my hips. “My common sense is right where it should be, thank you very much. And that look was relief. You know, relieved that I’m not stuck in the land of perpetual gloom.”

“Mmhmm.” Skonk didn’t believe me for a second, not that he’d ever admit it outright. “Next thing you know, you’ll be inviting Gideon for Sunday supper.”

I snorted. “If that ever happens, it will be because I’ve been hanging around you too much.”

He shot me a grin over his shoulder. “Flattery will get you nowhere. Come with me.” I followed them a short distance down the drive and to the path. “Do you have weights in your shoes?”

Before I could respond, he veered sharply to the left, muttering something about handling this before it festers , and ducked into a narrow little storefront built right alongside the path. Twobble was nowhere to be seen.

A painted sign swung lazily above the door, with an apothecary’s emblem etched into polished wood, though the tiny script beneath it was in a language I didn’t recognize.

I waited outside, tapping my foot.

Skonk lingered beside me, looking distinctly uninterested in explaining whatever was about to happen. “He shouldn’t be long.”

“You know,” I said to him, “he’s making a big deal out of nothing.”

Skonk shrugged. “That’s Twobble’s favorite kind of activity.”

Before I could argue, the door burst open and Twobble marched out holding a steaming clay mug with both hands like it was some kind of sacred relic.

He thrust it toward me.

“Drink.”

I eyed it suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Cleansing tonic,” he said simply.

“That tells me nothing. It could be mint tea. It could be pickle juice. It could be…”

“It’s from a hush-hush apothecary,” he interrupted. “And if I wanted to poison you, I wouldn’t have bothered saving you from Shadowick.”

“That’s…comforting?” I took the mug reluctantly and sniffed. “I’m not worried about you poisoning me. I’m just a little leery of mysterious drinks after Stella made me the kaleidoscope tea.”

“But look where that tea led.” His brows waggled, and I chuckled.

The scent hit me in layers. First, the herbal scent, like crushed sage, sank in, but then a sharp citrus bite overtook the fragrance. I took one last sniff and something earthy and unfamiliar made the back of my throat itch.

I looked at Twobble and lifted a brow. “This smells like it could strip paint.”

“It’ll strip the Shadowick residue right out of you,” Twobble said cheerfully.

I glanced at Skonk. He just shrugged again, clearly enjoying himself.

“Fine,” I muttered, and took a cautious sip. Heat flooded my mouth instantly, followed by a tingle that raced down my spine.

The flavors were wilder than the scent. It tasted nothing like it smelled. There were bitter greens, honey, and something like pepper that made my tongue prickle.

I coughed once, but the warmth settled in my chest like it belonged there.

“There,” Twobble said, satisfied. “Now your brain won’t wander off and start thinking goblin thoughts.”

“Goblin thoughts?” I repeated. “What exactly are those?”

“Oh, you know,” he said airily, “stealing spoons just because they’re shiny, reorganizing your books by how tasty the pages look, convincing yourself you can fit into a teapot…”

I gave him a flat look. “That sounds like you on a normal Tuesday.”

“Exactly,” he said, smirking, “Yet, I’m still a productive member of society.”

Skonk snorted. “Debatable.”

Twobble ignored him and started walking again, and I followed, cradling the mug in my hands.

The warmth of it was almost hypnotic, the steady pulse of heat grounding me after the whirlwind of the past few hours.

Maybe it was just good tea. Maybe it was actually magic.

Either way, I wasn’t going to admit to Twobble that I felt… lighter.

I felt better, oddly.

As we made our way toward the main path that would lead back to Skonk’s cottage, I glanced sideways at him.

“You really think that Shadowick trip could mess me up?”

Twobble’s expression grew a fraction more serious.

“It’s not about messing you up. It’s about making sure it doesn’t stick to you. That place…” He stopped for a moment, as if considering his words. “It’s not just shadows and gloom. It’s clever. Gets under your skin. You carry it back with you if you’re not careful.”

That sent a little shiver up my spine. I took another sip of the tonic, more willingly this time. “And this fixes it?”

“It helps,” he said. “The rest is on you. Keep your head clear. Don’t start thinking in…mirror logic.”

“Mirror logic,” I echoed.

He just gave me a sly smile. “Ask me again when you’ve had more tea.”

The rest of the walk was filled with their usual bickering.

Skonk accused Twobble of overcharging him for laundry powder last week, and Twobble retorted that Skonk shouldn’t have spilled stew on three shirts in one sitting.

It was ridiculous and oddly comforting, the way their voices rose and fell like a well-rehearsed act.

When we finally reached the tiny cottage, Twobble paused and gave me a pointed look. “Finish the tonic before you get inside. And maybe take a bath in rosemary water. Just to be safe.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

He wagged a finger at me. “That means you won’t.”

I grinned. “See, you do know me.”

Skonk muttered something, but I just shook my head and walked inside.

Twobble shut the door behind us as the tonic’s warmth had shifted into a full-body haze. Not dizzy exactly, but the kind of loopy where your thoughts start wearing party hats and making questionable decisions.

I took a breath, willing my head to clear, but the truth slinked in like an uninvited cat. Keegan is not going to be thrilled that I pushed him through the portal.

My stomach tightened. I could already picture the look he’d give me. I imagined it would be some combination of annoyance and hurt with that quiet, infuriating patience underneath.

The one that says you should have trusted me. But the memory of his face in Shadowick, pale and strained, wouldn’t budge. I’d shoved him back through that portal without a second thought, because letting him stay there wasn’t an option.

“You’re overthinking,” Twobble said suddenly, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. His tone wasn’t unkind, but it carried that blunt edge only goblins seemed to pull off without sounding like jerks.

“I’m thinking exactly the right amount,” I muttered. “He’s going to be pissed.”

He snorted. “Sure. You’re thinking yourself in circles when the truth is simple. You saved him. And if he’s worth his salt, he’ll understand it was for his survival.”

I wanted to believe that, but my pulse kept tripping over itself.

“You didn’t see his face,” I said quietly.