Page 175 of Magical Mischief

The fear was still there.

But belief had found its way in beside it.

Chapter Forty-Six

The air had shifted since I’d gone down into the dragon wing—lighter, but charged. As if the sky itself had taken one long breath in, waiting to see what I’d do next. I went outside immediately, walked quickly, crunching over day-old snow, and found the path to the Butterfly Ward.

After I visited with the dragons, I didn’t return to the warmth of the hearth or the comfort of Nova’s voice. I needed to feel the land under me. I needed to see it—witness it.

The Butterfly Ward shimmered in the distance, pale and thin as breath.

It had always been beautiful. Even when the other Wards were fraying, it held…stubborn and bright, like it was laced with joy. I’d never questioned why. Never really asked what it took for that kind of magic to stay strong.

Until it started to fade.

I pulled my hand from my cloak pocket, cradling the red crystal in my palm. It was warm still, like it had soaked in sunlight from some unseen world and now shared it with me. I held it against my chest for a long moment before letting it restin my hands again. The warmth soaked into my fingers. Up my wrists.

Into my throat like a warm cup of tea.

I stepped through the hedge, and the Ward came into view with the archway dulled, the air no longer dancing, the garden beyond brittle and quiet.

But the energy was still there.

Deep down.

Like an old song humming under the silence.

I crossed through slowly, letting my steps be deliberate. No rush. No fear. Just me, and the earth, and the promise of something more.

The moment I stepped beneath the arch, I felt it.

My birthmark pulsed once, then again, low and hot on my hip. Not pain but pressure. Recognition.

I stood in the center of the Ward, the very heart of the circle, and closed my eyes.

The crystal in my hands flared warm, and for a moment, I felt something… open, not outside me.

Inme.

And into that space, I let the vision come.

I imagined it.

The Academy, not as it had been. Not as a place of secrets, sealed wings, and dusty halls, but alive.

Women from every walk of life moving through the corridors. Midlife women. Women with silver in their hair and fire in their eyes. Women who’d raised children and burieddreams, only to wake and realize there was still something calling to them. Women who had been told their best years were behind them, and who laughed in the face of that lie.

I saw them entering the courtyard with books under their arms and courage stitched into their sleeves. I saw laughter echoing off the library walls. Tears, too. Growth always brought both.

I saw classrooms full of women daring to learn again. To challenge, to change, to remember their names.

To reclaim them.

Magic passed between them not as something exclusive, ancient, or precious, butnatural.As breath. As blood. As memory.

They were witches, artists, teachers, warriors, mothers, daughters, and everything in between.

And they were here.