Page 44 of Magical Mirage (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #6)

The library greeted me with the hush of a chapel, though instead of incense there was ink, parchment, and dust. The orbs floating near the rafters pulsed with a soft light, steady enough to soothe the nervous students gathered in clusters at the tables.

Summer school would start soon. I must’ve looked worse than I felt, because the moment I stepped inside, Bella darted from between the stacks and came toward me.

“Maeve!” she hissed, grabbing my wrist with surprising strength. “Why do you look so pale? What happened?”

A few book sprites followed her, fluttering over her head.

I shook my head quickly, forcing a smile I didn’t entirely feel. “I’m fine. I promise. Just… thinking too hard.”

Her nose twitched, sharp as any fox’s. She didn’t believe me, not fully, but she let go, though her eyes followed me like a tether.

The tall windows on the far wall caught my attention, and I drifted toward them, pressing one palm lightly against the glass.

Outside, the night was still restless, but different. The shadows that had surged like black waves only hours ago had drawn back, pooling at the far corners of the village. They weren’t gone, but they were waiting.

And that worried me more than their assault.

“Why now?” I whispered, half to myself, half to the Academy.

Shadows didn’t retreat without reason. Malore was patient, but he wasn’t merciful. If they were pulling back, it was because the next move was his, and we were already caught in the rhythm of it.

The glass thrummed faintly beneath my hand, as though agreeing.

For the first time since I had stumbled into Stonewick, it should have felt like the threads had finally been tied. The curse was broken, the Wards hummed steady, and all the mysteries that once nipped at my heels had found their answers. My dad was no longer stuck in his shifted form.

I should have felt finished, with the book closed neatly and tidily.

But peace never lingered long when old magic stirred.

Malore’s hunger for the ancient power at the root of it all had cracked open a new set of troubles, with shadows deeper than any curse.

And instead of ending Keegan’s curse like my dad’s, Malore chose to use him.

The pieces I had mended now pointed toward a larger storm, and somehow, I knew it was only the beginning.

I turned, scanning the library. Stella had draped herself dramatically in one of the high-backed chairs.

Twobble and Skonk were arguing over a map they’d unrolled upside down, loud enough to make a student nearby chew nervously on her quill. Nova paced near the center, green eyes snapping as she inscribed glowing charms in the air, the light fading almost as soon as she set them down.

But no Keegan.

I swallowed hard, throat tight. “Where is he?”

Bella, still hovering close enough to catch me if I toppled, followed my gaze.

Her expression softened. “He said he needed to lie down for a while. The strain of the Wards, the run here…it caught up with him.”

My stomach clenched, sour and sharp. Keegan. I didn’t need Lumi’s certainty or the dragons’ warnings to tell me what that meant.

I was running out of time. If the shadows seeped deeper into him before I acted, there might not be anything left of the man I loved.

“I need to talk to him,” I said, firmer than I intended.

Bella’s eyes fell to the students, then back to me. “He’s in his room. But, Maeve.” She caught my sleeve, her fingers cool and quick. “He needs rest. Don’t press him too hard.”

So she recognized the hollowness growing inside of him as well, shifter to shifter.

But I knew rest wouldn’t cure what had already taken root in him. And what I had to say, what I had to ask, wouldn’t allow him rest again, not for a long time.

As I walked out of the library, weaving between tables piled with open tomes and scrolls, I thought about the words I’d have to put in order.

Gideon’s name alone would sour Keegan’s temper.

To suggest we bring him into anything, much less the rite that could break Malore’s hold, would feel like betrayal.

Gideon had destroyed too much: pacts shattered, families torn apart, whole threads of Stonewick’s history scorched to ash.

But the dragons were right. I was right.

This was the only way.

Keegan deserved the truth, even if it broke us first.

When I reached his door, I hesitated. I could hear the faint scrape of a chair leg, the whisper of movement inside.

I leaned against the frame, gathering what courage I had left.

My mind kept circling back to Gideon, to the boy at the outskirts of Stonewick, fists shoved deep into pockets, waiting for someone to see him.

I didn’t know if I could save him. But I knew without trying, Keegan was already lost, and so was I.

I pushed the door open.

Keegan sat slouched in a chair pulled close to the fire, his long legs stretched out, one hand pressed to his temple. In the flickering light, his hair looked darker, his eyes shadowed when he glanced up and saw me, and some of the tension eased, though not enough.

“Maeve,” he murmured. His voice was roughened by exhaustion. “You should be resting.”

I shut the door behind me, leaning on it for strength. “I can’t. Not until I talk to you.”

His jaw tightened, just slightly. “This doesn’t sound like good news.”

“It isn’t,” I admitted, stepping closer, heart pounding. “But it’s the only path left.”

The fire cracked, and the shadows in the room leaned toward us, listening.

I opened my mouth. “It’s about Gideon.”

Keegan sat slouched by the fire, the flames painting shadows across his cheekbones. His posture was loose in the wrong way, not relaxed but drained, like every muscle was too tired to argue with gravity.

He straightened a little, eyes catching mine. They burned, not with his usual wolf-fire, but something else, something off.

On edge. I’d seen him fierce, angry, protective, but never like this, never suspicious of me.

“What is it?” he asked finally, voice gravel rough.

“You know how I’ve wondered what turned him? I think it’s the key.”

The silence stretched. Keegan’s shoulders went rigid, and for a heartbeat, I thought he’d stand and storm out, even in his exhaustion. Instead, he laughed once with a bitter sound that didn’t belong to him. “Of course it is. It always comes back to Gideon.”

“That’s not fair,” I said quickly, but my stomach twisted. He wasn’t wrong. Gideon had been circling my thoughts since the first whisper long ago. He’d invaded my nightmares and welcomed himself where I didn’t want him to be.

Keegan’s gaze sharpened, and I hated the way suspicion edged it.

“Isn’t it? You’re always trying to find ways into Shadowick, always listening for him, always believing that if you just understood why he was doing things, it would fix everything.

Tell me if I’m wrong, Maeve,” His voice dropped lower, darker. “Maybe you’re just into him.”

I froze. The words landed like a slap. “What?”

His mouth twisted. “Maybe that’s what this has been about all along. Curiosity dressed up as compassion. Fascination for the wicked man who cursed us all.”

“Keegan,” I whispered, horrified. My chest tightened so painfully I thought I’d fold in two. “You don’t believe that. You can’t.”

Something flickered in his expression, shame, maybe, or the barest flash of recognition, but it passed quickly, his eyes shadowed again.

“Why not? Wicked men exist, Maeve. Sometimes that’s all there is.

A man who delights in destruction, who ruins pacts, families, friendships.

Why keep digging for some lost innocence? It isn’t there.”

My throat ached.

This wasn’t Keegan.

It wasn’t the man who had held me steady in the Butterfly Ward, not the man whose strength had kept me from collapsing under the weight of whispers.

No. This sharpness, this jealousy, this twisting of truth, that was Malore’s seed.

His shadow threaded through the cracks, turning suspicion into knives.

I forced myself to breathe, to hold Keegan’s gaze even when it broke me. “Listen to me. That’s not you talking. That’s him. Malore planted this inside you, and it’s trying to grow. I can see it.”

His hands curled on the armrests, knuckles white. “You think everything can be explained away.”

“No,” I said softly. “Not explained away, but understood. Gideon didn’t wake up one morning and decide to destroy Stonewick. He was broken long before Malore touched him. Something hurt him so deeply he couldn’t see past it, and Malore embraced that pain and twisted it into what he is now.”

His jaw clenched, and I felt the fight in him, but also the tremor, the vulnerability of a man who wanted to believe, and hated himself for it.

I knelt in front of his chair, my knees protesting, and reached for his hand. He didn’t pull away, but his fingers twitched restlessly, like a wolf ready to bolt.

“Keegan,” I whispered, “this is the answer. To your survival. To Gideon’s. To all of this. If we understand what broke him, we can break Malore’s hold. That’s how we end this.”

He stared down at me, his breath shallow. “You think you can save him. You think you can save everyone.”

“I have to try,” I said. “Because saving him means saving you. And saving this town. And if I don’t,” My voice cracked. “If I don’t, then Malore wins. He gets to twist ancient rites and create a world dedicated to his power.”

The fire snapped, sparks scattering up the chimney. Keegan’s eyes softened for just a heartbeat, wolf-fire breaking through the shadow’s haze. He cupped my cheek with a hand that trembled.

“I don’t want to lose you to him,” he said quietly.

“You won’t.” I leaned into his palm. “I’m not his. I’m yours. But I can’t pretend the answer doesn’t lie in Gideon’s pain. I have to follow it. And I need you to stand with me, even if it feels impossible.”

He closed his eyes, forehead lowering until it rested against mine. His breath was warm but ragged. “You’re asking me to forgive the unforgivable.”

“No,” I whispered. “I’m asking you to see what Malore did to him. And to us. And to believe me when I say that together…” I swallowed hard. “Together, we can undo it.”

His silence was heavy, but this time it wasn’t rejection. It was the silence of a man at war with himself, with shadows, and with love.

I stayed there, steady, holding on to his hand like it was the only truth I had left.

And I knew in my heart that the same seed Malore had planted in Gideon long ago was now seeded in Keegan.