Page 95 of Magical Mischief

My grandma didn’t argue our logic, but she knew she couldn’t go outside these walls or she’d cease to exist in her current form.

We dropped down the path and took off across the snow, our boots quiet on the slush and dirt. The garden was just ahead, framed by the low hedge wall and arched entryway covered in twisting vines. It had always been one of the quieter places in the Academy, with soft light, floating butterflies with shimmering wings that responded to mood and magic.

However, now it felt different.

Still beautiful. Still green in the dead of winter.

But the kind of beauty that’s too quiet. Where the hush feels deliberate. Waiting.

We slipped past the gate and into the winding paths, the air thick with flowering things and the faint sound of wings.

No sign of anyone.

“Where’d they go?” Bella asked, voice low.

“I don’t know,” I said, scanning the garden. “But someone was here. I saw them. I know I did.”

“I did too.” Bella stepped off the path and checked behind one of the stone benches. I moved the other way, parting a wall of yellow blossoms with my hands. The garden didn’t resist. It never happened to me. But it also didn’t offer any help.

“Maybe they used a spell,” I said.

“To vanish?” Bella asked. “Or hide?”

“Or both.”

She came back to my side. “Do you think it’s Gideon?”

I didn’t answer right away.

I didn’t want it to be him. I didn’t want to believe he’d made it past the Wards, through the garden, and onto the Academy grounds without setting off some kind of alarm.

But I knew what I saw. And whoever it was, they didn’t belong.

“If itwashim,” I said finally, “then he’s getting bolder.”

Bella nodded once, mouth set. “And closer.”

My mind drifted to the weakening Maple Ward, and my chest tightened.

We waited a few more seconds, letting the stillness settle. The butterflies hovered nearby, glowing faintly, drifting from flower to flower like nothing had happened. But they hadn’t gathered on us the way they used to.

They were staying back.

I looked to the far side of the garden. One of the old gates, usually kept shut tight, was ajar. Just slightly. Just enough.

My stomach dropped.

“We need to tell Grandma Elira,” I said. “They felt us coming and fled. That doesn’t sound like someone who belongs.”

We turned and ran, the smell of crushed petals trailing behind us. I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to.

Whoever had been there, whoever had slipped into this quiet corner of the Academy and left without a sound, wasn’t done.

And I had the awful sense they’d be back.

We had just stepped back out of the Butterfly Garden when I heard Elira calling us from across the green, standing at the Academy’s threshold.

“Maeve! Bella!”