Page 96 of Magical Mischief

Her tone wasn’t urgent in the usual way, not fear, not danger, but it reached straight into my chest and pulled. It had that sound to it, the one you don’t ignore.

We immediately turned and went inside, following her to the east corridor. Her robes caught the last stretch of afternoon sun like a silver veil.

“Come quickly!” she said. “You must hear it.”

I didn’t need to ask what. My legs were already moving.

The Academy shifted as we moved. Doors that had been closed the day before creaked open. A corridor that used to loop back toward the lecture halls now curved left instead, the stones underfoot rearranging themselves with the soft grind of age and memory. The scent of the halls changed too, less of dust and parchment now, and more of green things.

Sap and bark and loam.

The Academy lent us a shortcut back to the Maple Ward.

Bella gave me a sideways look as we rounded another bend. “Do you hear that?”

“I’m not sure.”

But not only did I hear it, I felt it.

The air carried something on it now, something feather-light. Not words. Not even melody at first. Just a vibration under the skin, like the first flicker of a song remembered from a dream.

The stairwell to the Maple Ward wasn’t where it had been.

The corridor opened ahead of us, and instead of a blank wall at the end, a narrow set of steps spiraled upward in soft golden light. We didn’t stop to question it. The Academy had always known where we needed to go, even if it waited until the last moment to show us the way.

As we climbed, the sound grew stronger.

Humming.

Not from a person. Not the kind you do while tidying or passing the time. This was deeper.

Elemental. A thrum that lived in the walls and curled through the air like incense.

And beneath it, barely there, the soft flutter of leaves. Not wind, not rustling.

A beat. A rhythm.

A song.

We reached the top of the stairs, and the familiar wooden door to the Maple Ward stood before us. But even it had changed. The vines around the frame glowed faintly. The handlehad grown smooth and warm to the touch, like it had been held by many hands over time and remembered all of them.

My grandma stepped to the side and looked at me.

“It’s begun,” she said, voice soft and reverent. “The tree remembers.”

I swallowed hard and pressed the door open.

It wasn’t the same place I had left.

The chamber had been dim before, heavy with the weight of age and exhaustion. Now it shone.

Light poured through the ancient windows above, though I could’ve sworn the sky outside had already dimmed. It fell over everything like honey…thick and golden, catching in the floating dust.

The great maple stood tall, its limbs still gnarled but alive now, almost proud. A few more leaves had opened along its highest branches, deep amber and green, and they swayed gently—not in the wind, but to the rhythm of the hum.

The sapling near its base glimmered softly at the leaves’ edges. It had grown again. Another inch, maybe two. Its leaves shimmered, catching the hum and tossing it back with a quiet joy I could feel in my chest.

And the sound. It was everywhere now.