Page 41 of Magical Mirage (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #6)

Keegan kept me steady, his hand locked around mine, his wolf strength carrying us forward when I faltered.

Nova and Ardetia’s magic flared behind, brief bursts of light pushing back the darkness. Bella darted ahead, her fox instincts finding paths the rest of us never could. Twobble and Skonk stumbled and tumbled in our wake, shouting complaints at every root and rock but somehow always catching up.

Stella puffed dramatically, shawl flaring, muttering dire warnings of hauntings if she collapsed mid-run.

And then, I felt it.

The Academy’s hum.

It rose beneath my feet, deep and resonant, like the earth itself was drawing breath.

“Almost there!” I gasped, though the words were more prayer than fact.

The trees parted, and the spires of the Academy loomed, with the vast, carved stone and familiarity stretching skyward like it had been waiting for centuries for this moment. The threshold shimmered faintly in the moonlight, the Wards breathing with power, and at the great oak doors…

They were waiting.

My father and Grandma Elira.

My dad stood in bulldog form, squat and sturdy, his dark eyes blazing with recognition, and I wondered if that form was what brought him comfort from all the years of exile.

He barked once, loud, sharp, commanding, as if to say Hurry, before it’s too late . Beside him, my grandma glowed faintly, her silver hair gleaming, her presence both fragile and eternal. She held one hand aloft, palm pressed against the Academy’s seal, coaxing the doors wider.

We were so close, but the shadows surged.

They slammed against the stone wall in a wave of smoke and hunger, blotting out the stars. The figure rose again, tall and hollow-eyed, its voice tearing the air.

Maeve. Don’t leave me.

The words weren’t alone. They were stitched from every fear I had ever carried. Celeste’s voice. My mother’s voice. Even Alex’s. For one terrible heartbeat, I staggered. My chest seized, my breath caught.

I refused to listen to her.

Keegan spun, gripping my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. His eyes burned with wolf-fire, his jaw hard.

“That’s not them. That’s not real. Stay with me, Maeve. Stay with me.”

I clung to his gaze, shaking, and nodded.

Nova shouted something sharp, her magic flaring, and the shadow reeled. “Move! Now!”

We stumbled on the last stretch, scrambling over the stone path that led to the Academy gates. Bella hauled Stella forward, Twobble and Skonk half-carried each other, and Keegan’s arm wrapped tight around my waist as we surged toward the doors.

My dad barked again, louder, and my grandma’s voice carried like bells over the chaos.

“Inside!”

The threshold shimmered as we crossed it, the charms flaring bright, stinging the shadows back. I felt the line of power snap against my skin as though I’d walked through a storm. The whispers choked off, silenced in an instant.

We were inside.

The great doors slammed shut behind us with a boom that echoed down the stone halls. For a moment, all I could do was collapse against the cold floor, my chest heaving, my ears ringing with the absence of whispers.

This was why I should have done cardio the last two decades. My muscles burned as raw as my lungs.

But the Academy was alive. I could feel it. Its heart beat through the walls, ancient and solemn. The air smelled faintly of candlewax and old books, like always.

And we weren’t alone.

Small groups of students clustered in the entry hall, their faces pale and wide-eyed.Their gazes darted between us and the front door, their fear palpable. I saw it in their shoulders, in the way they clutched each other’s hands.

Twobble must have sensed it as well. He hopped up from his crouched position and dusted his hands off.

“We’ve got everything under control. Just an exercise in sprinting,” he assured the students as we all slowly stood. “Just making sure the headmistress’s old midlife bones don’t crumble under stress. And looks like we had a job well done.”

I scowled at him while they probably wished they had left when they had the chance.

But I straightened, swallowing hard, and looked to my grandma. She stood radiant in the glow of the orbs now circling us, but her eyes became heavy with something.

A few kitchen sprites came to see what all the fuss was about.

“Maeve.” My grandma’s voice was a mix of relief and sorrow. “You made it.”

“I did,” I breathed, with Keegan’s steadying hand at my elbow. My throat tightened. “But it’s worse than we thought. They’re not just shadows. They’re clever. They use mirages. They almost had me.”

The words tumbled fast, jagged, desperate.

“I saw Celeste. I saw my mother. I swore they were right there in front of me. If Keegan hadn’t pulled me back and if he hadn’t…

” My voice broke. I turned to my dad, praying his gaze could anchor me.

“Dad, you know something. You’ve seen this before, haven’t you? ”

My dad barked, sharp and low, then padded forward, pressing his head against my shin. His eyes, warm and dark, met mine with unspoken weight. And then he shifted.

My grandma lifted her chin, her eyes steady on me. “Yes, Maeve. The shadows always begin with whispers. Then with faces we trust. That is how they pull at the heart.”

I shook my head. “Then how do we fight them? How do we tell what’s real and not a mirage?”

My grandma’s gaze softened, though it did not ease the ache in me.

“By knowing yourself. By remembering what binds you to this world, like your truth, your family, your magic. But, Maeve…” She stepped closer, her hands trembling faintly as she lifted them.

“If you saw her , if her voice reached you, then the curse has rooted deeper than we feared.”

Her words hit like a stone sinking in my stomach.

“Who is she?”

My grandmother wouldn’t answer.

“I know Malore is behind this,” I said softly.

My grandma didn’t answer at once. Her gaze swept over the group to witness Nova pale and drawn, Bella watchful, Stella adjusting her shawl with exaggerated care, the goblins clinging to each other with wide eyes. Then she looked back at me, her expression unreadable.

I felt the weight of it.

The silence.

The truth she carried but hadn’t yet spoken.

My hands shook. “Grandma, please. We can’t fight blind. Tell me what this means. Tell me what’s happening to Gideon. To Keegan. Why is your husband involved so heavily?”

My dad stepped closer in his human form and turned to his mother.

“This is Malore’s doing. We’ve found the scrolls, but we need answers.” My dad studied his mother as the Academy’s walls hummed around us.

Elira’s eyes met mine, my grandmother’s eyes, sharp and old and filled with love and sorrow. She opened her mouth to speak.

And the candles guttered.

The shadows pressed at the very edges of the Wards beyond, rattling the stained glass windows.

We weren’t completely safe, not even here, until we had answers.

And I realized she wasn’t going to give them.

“It’s nothing I can speak on,” my grandma finally whispered. “But Maeve knows where to look.”

Maeve knows where to look.

I did. I had all along.

It hit me, bone-deep and undeniable.

The dragons.

They held the answers that diagrams, charts, and journals could not. They were older than the Academy itself, older than the Wards, older perhaps than the shadows that now choked our skies.

And though no one here even knew they existed, not Nova, not Keegan, not even Bella, the dragons had always been waiting.

A secret. My secret.

My throat ached. I wanted to scream for my grandma to say it out loud, to share the burden.

But I saw it in her eyes. She couldn’t. She had kept the dragons hidden for decades, perhaps longer, guarding them with her silence.

If she spoke now, the secret would unravel, and secrets, like dragons, were fragile things when laid bare.

Her gaze held mine with sorrow and hope.

You know where to look.

I pressed my hands together, hiding their tremble.

The hall stirred uneasily around us. Stella gathered her shawl close with a huff, muttering about drafts that didn’t exist.

Twobble and Skonk squabbled near the hearth, loud enough to cover their fear, Twobble insisting he’d been the one to save us all by heroically distracting the shadows with his cape.

Nova paced, green eyes sharp, lips pressed thin as she began sketching protective spells in the air with her fingertip.

Bella lingered near the door, her fox instincts twitching at every tremor in the glass.

And Keegan.

He stood near me, silent but solid, his arms crossed, his presence like a shield. I could feel the tension rolling off him. I could feel the rage at Gideon, worry for me, and frustration at the shadows still pressing against the Academy.

The dragons weren’t meant for them.

My dad’s gaze lifted, dark eyes locking with mine. I swore I saw it there, understanding. Maybe even approval.

It felt like permission. He would keep Keegan distracted.

Nova’s voice cut sharply across the hall. “We can’t linger here. We must get to the library, the map vaults, the deeper archives…anything that can guide us before the Wards break, and we find ourselves looking at Malore.”

Stella snorted. “If I must perish, I’d prefer it among books and not in this drafty entryway.”

“That’s the spirit,” Skonk muttered.

Keegan turned toward me then, his eyes narrowing. He could always sense when I was keeping something.

His hand brushed mine, quiet, steady, a question without words.

I squeezed back, offering what I hoped looked like reassurance. But inside, my heart cracked because I was already planning how to slip away.

The library, the map vaults were all good, all necessary. But not enough.

The dragons. Only the dragons would know the answers to questions I didn’t know to ask.

Stella fussed over a candle. Bella lingered near Keegan, ears pricked, eyes watchful.

Twobble tried to juggle candlesticks and dropped one on Skonk’s foot, prompting a howl that echoed through the chamber.

I waited until Nova herded everyone away while my dad kept Keegan amused, muttering about anchor stones and ley line charts.

In the chaos, I let myself drift to the back.

My steps slowed. The group moved ahead, their shadows flickering in the candlelight.

Keegan glanced over his shoulder once, twice, his eyes seeking mine.

I forced a small smile, mouthed I’m fine, and gave him a little shooing motion. He frowned but didn’t press.

And then they were gone, their voices fading into the echoing corridors.

The silence that followed wasn’t silence at all. The Academy hummed around me, ancient and alive, its stones pressing at my skin like a heartbeat. It knew where I was going. Perhaps it had always known where I should be.

The corridor narrowed as I went. The lamps were few, and those that still burned did so weakly, shadows pooling in the corners. I wrapped my cloak tighter as I passed my own bedroom, and at last, I reached the sealed archway.

The flutter of wings landed in front of me, and I reached for the key.

A seal glowed faintly as I hesitated because once I crossed, there would be no going back. Not until I had answers that would guide me.

I inserted the fluttering key, and the door shuddered before opening. Heat poured out, thick and dry, with the scent of smoke and something ancient.

And then I heard them.

Low, rumbling noises, more vibration than sound, like thunder rolling through stone.

At last.

My knees nearly buckled. The weight of their presence filled the den, pressing against my chest and curling through my veins.

I stepped forward, the heavy door groaning shut behind me.

The chamber glowed with faint, golden light. Shadows of vast wings stretched across the walls, shifting, alive. Their eyes caught mine from the dark.

“I don’t know what else to do,” I whispered, the words torn from me like a prayer. “The shadows are here. They’re pressing against the Wards even though we broke the curse. It’s as if something worse has taken its place. And Keegan…”

The dragons stirred. Smoke curled in the air, and their eyes burned brighter.

Colors moved with snort and scale, shimmering in hues no painter’s palette could ever capture. Teal flickered into gold, amethyst breathed into copper, wings rippled like stained glass in candlelight. The dragons were not still. They were watching.

Their eyes, jeweled and ancient, pinned me in place.

They weren’t cruel, but not kind. They were just knowing.

As if they could see straight through the brittle bravado I carried, down to the trembling kernel of fear I tried so hard to hide.

I felt small, terribly small, like a child wandering into a cathedral where gods slumbered.

My heartbeat thudded in my ears, and still they did not move.

A sapphire-scaled one lowered its head, breath curling smoke that smelled faintly of rain on hot stone. I hadn’t met this one before.

Another unfurled her wings ever so slightly, the whisper of air brushing against my skin like a question.

And in that silence, I realized they weren’t guarding their hoard or their secrets.

They were weighing me. Measuring not my magic, not my strength, but the vulnerable thread of who I was when stripped of everything else.

And somehow, though my knees threatened to buckle, I did not look away.

And then, their voices, layered, ancient, terrible, and beautiful all at once, answered.

You already know, child of fire and root. The here and there. But the path you seek will cost you more than you are willing to give.

The air thickened, and my heart hammered as I realized that I might not survive the answers I had begged for.