Page 144 of Magical Mischief

Bella moved quickly, sleeves rolled up, eyes bright. She was good in a kitchen, efficient, and a little bossy but never messy.

Ardetia lingered near the doorway with her arms crossed, clearly not planning on touching anything much.

Still, even she smiled as a sprite offered her a napkin folded into a perfect rose.

Nova leaned against the far counter, her eyes wide, like she’d never seen a kitchen like this.

But I didn’t blame her. The Academy kitchen was something else. Magic here didn’t just help. Itdelightedin the work. Bowls spun themselves when not in use. Spices rearranged themselves based on the cook’s intent. Even the rolling pins danced a little if you left them unattended too long.

“Amazing,” Nova said, almost to herself.

“Only thing that’s changed,” Elira said, stirring her pot with gusto, “is we haven’t had this many cooks in here in quite a while.”

She pulled a sheet of golden bread rolls from the oven, steaming, a few already trying to escape the tray, and began buttering them with a flick of her wand.

“It’s good practice,” she said, half to me, half to the sprites. “When the students return, it’ll be nonstop in here. Morning, noon, night, and midnight snacks. We’ll barely sleep.”

One of the sprites nodded emphatically, then immediately flew headfirst into a pepper grinder.

Everyone laughed.

The bustle was impossible to resist. Nova was soon elbow-deep in slicing root vegetables with a knife that sang every time it hit the board. Bella managed to spill only alittleflour into her hair, and even Ardetia eventually sat at the prep table and began chopping something suspiciously like moonfruit.

I found myself near the hearth, turning a spit full of roasting squash while one of the larger sprites hovered at my elbow, critiquing my seasoning decisions with a steady stream of unintelligible mumbles.

I smiled, even as the spice rack behind me rearranged itself three times before settling on what it thought was the ideal line-up.

Something about the chaos made my heart ache a little, in the good way.

Becausethiswas what it had been like, once. I’d never been here to witness it, but I could feel the soul of the Academy waking up.

Before the doors closed, the Wards weakened, and the Academy had gone quiet. This hum, this rhythm, this overlapping of voices and magic and good smells—it was life.

And it was waking up.

But amid all the warmth, the clatter, the flickering lights and laughter, I couldn’t shake a thought that had been curling in the back of my mind since my grandma had declared the feast.

When will the first student arrive?

The Academy could breathe all it wanted, stretch its limbs, rearrange rooms, and open doors, but without students, it wasn’t complete.

And if Nova’s classroom had just arrived today, how many more teachers did we need before the gates opened to the next generation of midlife witches?

I glanced at the door. Imagining it is opening not for Bella, Ardetia, or even Nova—but for someone new. Someone ready to learn but with enough experience to make things make sense.

How long until they stepped through that door?

And were we ready for them when they did?

“What’s that face?” my grandma asked from the stove. “You’re squinting like someone just told you the pudding curdled.”

I shook my head. “Just thinking.”

She snorted. “Dangerous habit.”

I shrugged. “The Academy’s coming alive. I just… wonder how much more it needs before it’s truly ready.”

Elira stirred her pot thoughtfully. “It’ll tell us. Piece by piece. We just have to listen.”