Page 131 of Magical Mischief

I crossed the room and opened the wardrobe.

It was larger than I remembered. The hinges groaned, reluctant and familiar. Inside, a row of garments hung neatly, untouched by moths or time. Most were in deep, muted colors—blues, grays, forest greens. Some had embroidery along the hems, and others were plain.

It felt like I was stepping back in time.

After my shower, I dried off and touched the sleeve of a dark teal tunic I chose to wear. I felt a little better, not soexhausted. The tunic fit perfectly when I slipped it over my head, like it had been made for me.

The black pants were snug, high-waisted and sturdy, the kind of thing you’d wear if you expected to climb through ruins or scale a cliff.

And maybe I did. Who knew what the next few days would look like?

As I ran a comb through my hair, I caught sight of myself in the mirror above the dresser. I didn’t look like a tired, divorced mom anymore. Or a woman still fumbling her way through a post-divorce rediscovery.

I looked like someone on the edge of knowing something they’d never be able to forget.

I moved to the window and pushed it open, letting in a rush of icy air. It cut through the stillness like a knife. The breeze smelled of pine and something colder, something sweet.

And that’s when I saw it.

A flicker of movement, just beyond the garden wall.

Not human. Not animal, either.

I leaned out, squinting through some branches.

There. Near the row of hedges, something was winding between the trees.

Low to the ground. Sinuous. Pale, with just a shimmer of green.

Not large. But unmistakably alive.

I didn’t breathe.

It paused at the edge of the hedge and raised its head. Just for a second. Just long enough for me to see the narrow gleamof an eye that looked far too intelligent to belong to anything ordinary.

Then it slipped out of view.

Gone.

I stood frozen at the window, heart hammering. It hadn’t seen me, or at least, I didn’t think it had. But something about its movement had felt deliberate. Not a wild creature slinking through the Academy grounds. Not a random sighting.

Itwantedto be seen.

The conversation with Elira would have to wait. The questions, the journals, the secrets—all of it could sit on the shelf a little longer.

Something was happening now.

And whatever it was had managed to come onto Academy grounds.

Some answers didn’t come in words.

Some arrived on silent feet, just outside the window.

Bella knocked like she already knew I was awake.

Quick, sharp taps. Not impatient, but urgent.

“Maeve,” she called through the door, breathless. “Did you see it?”