Page 45 of Magical Mirage (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #6)

The first light of morning crept through the tall windows of the room, thin and uncertain, like even the sun wasn’t sure if it belonged in a place under siege.

The fire had burned low in the hearth, just embers now, but Keegan’s arm was still heavy and warm around my waist. His breath moved against the back of my neck in uneven waves, sometimes catching, sometimes steady.

For a moment, I just let myself stay there. Wrapped up, cocooned, listening to the quiet that didn’t feel entirely earned. It was a lie to believe the night had passed without cost, but for a few breaths, I wanted the lie.

When I shifted, his hold tightened instinctively.

“Don’t,” he muttered against my hair. His voice was raw, gravelly from sleep and more than sleep. “Not yet.”

I turned in his arms, rolling carefully until I could see him. His eyes opened slowly, the gold flecks in them dulled but still burning at the edges. He looked tired in a way that went deeper than lack of rest.

“Morning,” I whispered.

He huffed, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “That word has no meaning here.”

I reached up, smoothing a hand over his jaw. He hadn’t shaved, and the rough stubble rasped against my palm, grounding me in the best way. But his eyes, they held shadows of their own, darker than any sleepless night could explain.

“Keegan,” I said softly. “We need to finish what we started last night.”

His jaw tensed under my hand. He didn’t pull away, but his silence was sharp enough to draw blood.

I swallowed, forcing myself to go on.

“I know what you said wasn’t really you. About Gideon. About me being… interested in him.” The word stuck in my throat, bitter. “But I need to hear from you. What’s happening inside you? Because I can see it, Keegan. Bit by bit, Malore’s getting in.”

His arm around me slackened. He turned his face toward the ceiling, eyes closing like he couldn’t bear my gaze. For a long moment, he said nothing, and the silence pressed harder than any scream. Then, finally…

“He whispers,” Keegan said hoarsely. “In the quiet. When I try to sleep. When I try not to. His voice isn’t a voice.

It’s every doubt I’ve ever carried. Every failure.

He tells me I’m no different than Gideon.

That I’ll end the same way. I turned to our moon for answers, but I’ve heard nothing back. ”

My chest tightened painfully. “Keegan…”

He turned back to me suddenly, eyes flashing with something raw. “And when you keep searching for Gideon, when you keep chasing the why of him, I can’t stop thinking maybe you already see me that way. Like a puzzle waiting to break. Maybe that’s why you stay.”

The words gutted me. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. “Is that what you think of me?” I whispered. “That I’d stay out of pity? Or fascination? That I’d look at you and see a man on his way to ruin?”

He flinched, but his jaw stayed tight. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re more than wrong.” The words came out sharp and immediate.

I sat up, pushing against his chest until he had to meet my eyes.

“Keegan, look at me. You are not Gideon. You never have been. And the fact that you even fear becoming him proves you’re not.

He let pain harden into something cruel.

You fight every day not to let it swallow you.

You’ve been abandoned. You’ve stood for something when others ran away.

You’re not him, and I’d never think you were. ”

His expression cracked, just barely enough for me to see the man I knew under the doubt.

I softened my voice. “I chase Gideon’s why because it’s the key, Keegan. If we know what broke him, we can break Malore’s hold. On him. But more importantly, on you. On all of us. That’s the answer to your survival. Not fighting harder. Not shutting me out. Understanding. Together.”

His hands lifted slowly, almost like he was afraid to touch me. Then they settled on my shoulders, steady and warm. “You think I can be saved the same way as him?”

“I know you don’t need the same saving,” I said. “But yes. I think Malore uses the same tricks on both of you. Pain. Loneliness. Doubt. If I can drag Gideon back from the edge, I can keep you from ever reaching it. We need Gideon to be a willing participant when we call for the Hunger Path.”

Keegan’s throat worked, like the words caught there were too heavy to lift. Finally, he exhaled. “And if you’re wrong?”

“Then we fight until the end anyway,” I said simply. “But I won’t stop believing there’s more than just wicked men in the world. Not while I have breath.”

The fire popped behind us, a sharp crack that made me jump. Keegan didn’t move. He just looked at me, eyes burning with fear or love, maybe both.

Finally, he pulled me against him again, burying his face in my hair. His voice was muffled but fierce. “Then you’d better not leave me, Maeve. Not for him. Not for anyone.”

Tears pricked my eyes. “Never,” I whispered. “Not even for a second.”

And I knew it wasn’t Keegan talking. The seed had already sprouted, and I was running out of time.

His arms tightened like he believed me, but the shadows in his eyes told me Malore wasn’t done yet. But neither was I.

The world outside his bedroom could’ve been crumbling to dust, and I wouldn’t have noticed until the door banged open with the force of a hurricane.

“Oi! You two aren’t doing anything scandalous, are you?” Twobble’s voice cracked through the quiet like a pebble against glass.

Keegan shot up straighter than a soldier caught sleeping on duty

“Twobble,” he growled, the kind of low, restrained tone that promised violence in most men but only managed to make the goblin grin wider.

Twobble blinked innocently, if such a thing were possible for him. “What? It’s not like I wanted to barge in here, but someone has to keep you from forgetting the world exists.” His gaze slid to me, sharp and mischievous. “And you. Don’t think I don’t notice that pink in your cheeks.”

I pressed a hand against my face, trying to will away the heat there. “Twobble…”

“Anyway.” He flapped his hands as if shooing away invisible dust. “Less moon-eyed staring, more following me. There’s something you need to see, Maeve. Urgent.”

Keegan exhaled, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and then glanced at me. His eyes softened despite the irritation still lingering on his mouth.

“Go with him. I’ll catch up after.”

Twobble clapped gleefully and bounded toward the hall. I hesitated only long enough to meet Keegan’s gaze again, the weight of what might have been still hanging between us like a half-finished spell.

I followed Twobble, slipping through the doorway and leaving the warmth of Keegan’s room behind.

“He looks different, Maeve,” Twobble whispered, and I let out a sigh.

“Keegan’s fighting off things we probably can’t even imagine. If my thoughts are correct, Malore is trying to do to Keegan what he did to Gideon.”

Twobble blinked, his mouth falling open. “The evil seed? You mean like Gideon?”

I nodded, the truth tasting like ash. “Exactly like Gideon.”

His hands flailed for a moment before he stuffed them under his arms. “Maeve, that’s not…That’s not something you just say on a morning stroll! That’s,” He lowered his voice again, darting glances at the shadows. “That’s doom.”

“I know. And if I don’t find a way to stop it, he’ll go the same way Gideon did.”

Twobble stared at me for a long moment, unusually quiet. Finally, he whispered, “Can you save him?”

My breath hitched. “I don’t know. I want to believe I can.

But I saw it in his eyes, Twobble. He’s already slipping.

Every doubt, every wound Malore can find, he’s turning them into whispers in Keegan’s head.

And if I can’t root it out,” My voice cracked.

I pressed a hand to the cold glass, grounding myself in its bite. “I’ll lose him.”

Twobble shifted uncomfortably, his usual sarcasm nowhere in sight. “Maeve, maybe you should tell the others. Nova, or—”

“No.” I turned sharply, catching his gaze. “You can’t tell anyone. Not yet.”

“But…”

“No, Twobble.” My voice came out harder than I intended, but it needed to be.

“If they knew, they might treat him like he’s already gone.

They’d see Gideon instead of Keegan. And he deserves better than that.

You saw how he reacted to you. It’s going to get worse.

And I don’t want Grandma Elira to get wind of much. ”

His face softened, worry creasing his brow. “You’re asking me to keep quiet while Malore’s seed eats him alive.”

“I’m asking you to trust me,” I said, quieter. “Trust that I’ll find the way. The spells, the scrolls, the journals. We can save him. But I need time and proof for the others. And I need you to keep this between us.”

Twobble’s mouth twisted like he’d bitten into something sour. He muttered something about how goblins should never make promises before breakfast, then sighed.

“Fine. I won’t tell. But if he sprouts horns or starts chanting in creepy rhymes, I’m running.”

A shaky laugh escaped me, unexpected. “Fair enough.”

We walked on, the silence between us heavier than usual.

Twobble shoved his hands into his pockets, his little shoulders hunched. Finally, he glanced up at me. “You really think it started that night? The Moonbeam?”

“Yes.” My stomach churned. “That was the opening Malore needed. The veil was thin. The Wards weakened. And Keegan, he was closest to me, to the power of it all. Malore slipped something inside him while we were fighting to keep the shadows out, and I think he slipped something into Gideon as well or took it away.”

Twobble groaned. “That sneaky, vile, smoke-sucking,” He waved his arms, sputtering. “He cheats! All the time! Your grandfather is…” He looked at me and ducked. “Sorry, no offense.”

“None taken,” I murmured.

Twobble stopped walking, forcing me to turn back. His face was serious, stripped of humor. “Then we don’t have forever, Maeve. If Malore already planted the seed, it’s only going to grow. And when it does.” He stopped himself.

“I know,” I whispered, the words like shards. “That’s why we have to move faster than him.”

Twobble stared at me for a long moment, then nodded once, solemn in a way I rarely saw. “Then let’s move.”

I managed a small smile, even as fear clawed at my chest. “Thank you.”

He sniffed, muttering something about witches always dragging goblins into doom, but he didn’t complain when I fell into step beside him again.

And as we walked, I held his promise close like a fragile flame: that he wouldn’t tell. That, for now, Keegan’s fight was ours alone to carry.

But the truth pressed in on me, relentless. Malore had already won once. He’d turned a boy named Gideon into a weapon of ruin. And now, if I wasn’t careful, he would take the man I loved too.

Not if I could stop it.

Not if I had breath left in me.

“Did you want to tell me what you wanted to show me?”

Twobble kept sneaking glances at me as we walked, his mouth working like he had a handful of words rattling around in there, all fighting to get out.

Finally, with a grunt that was equal parts dramatic and reluctant, he blurted, “Fine. I’ll tell you why I came to get you.”

I slowed, studying him. “Go on.”

He glanced over his shoulder, then tugged me toward a narrow alcove between two shelves where the dust was thick and the lantern light didn’t quite reach. His voice dropped, hushed but urgent. “I saw your grandma. Elira.”

My stomach tightened. “Where?”

“In the library,” Twobble said, jabbing a finger upward like the sky itself was eavesdropping. “At one of the windows. Standing so close, I thought she’d fall right through the glass. And she was… talking.”

“Talking?” I repeated carefully.

He nodded, ears twitching. “At first, I thought she was muttering spells, like Nova does when she’s crabby. But no. It was softer as if she was answering someone. Or something. And she kept looking up.”

I frowned. “Up at what?”

Twobble shifted uneasily. “The moon. At least, I really, really hope it was the moon.” He rubbed the back of his neck, voice pitching higher.

“Because if it wasn’t… it was the shadows in the sky.

And, Maeve,” He leaned closer, lowering his voice until it was barely a whisper. “I think she was talking to Malore.”

A chill skated down my spine. My grandmother, radiant and stubborn and bound to the Academy, speaking to the very thing trying to unravel us?

Twobble must have seen my face drain, because he rushed on, words tumbling fast. “Maybe it wasn’t him!

Maybe it was just the moon being nosy. But it didn’t feel like the moon.

The air went heavy. And her face,” His ears drooped, “Her face didn’t look like her.

It looked… pulled. Like something else was trying her skin on. ”

We stayed in the alcove, careful to keep our voices quiet.

Elira at the window, with silver hair gleaming, lips moving in rhythm with the whispers I’d heard near the Wards. The shadows hadn’t left us. They were waiting. Waiting for a door. And what better door than someone bound to the Academy itself?

“She wouldn’t…” I started, then faltered.

Because hadn’t I already seen her hold back truths?

The dragons, the prophecy, the silence heavy in her eyes.

She’d carried secrets longer than I’d been alive.

If Malore whispered to her through the sky, what promise would be too heavy for her not to answer?

Twobble’s small hand tugged my sleeve. “Maeve?”

I forced a breath. “You did the right thing telling me.”

His eyes searched mine, wide and uneasy. “So it was him?”

“If it was… then Malore isn’t just pressing at the edges anymore.” My throat tightened. “He’s trying to speak through the people I love.”

Twobble swallowed hard. “That’s not cozy at all.”

“No,” I said quietly, heart hammering. “But it means we don’t have much time.”