Page 104 of Magical Mission

Twobble tilted his head, one brow lifting. “The vision?”

I nodded, tightening the blanket around my shoulders.

“The woman in the orb. She was here long before Gideon was born. The Academy looked… younger. Unfinished in places. And whoever she was, she didn’t survive what happened.” He watched me for a reaction.

“But she looked like me.”

Twobble’s mouth pressed into a thoughtful line. “The magic was old, then. Older than the curse on Stonewick.”

“That’s what I think, too,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Gideon… he placed the curse, twisted Stonewick, carved at the Wards to weaken them. But that wasn’thisidea. Not originally.”

I let the silence settle between us, curling gently like smoke.

“Agreed,” Twobble said, stretching his little feet in front of them.

“I think he is a cog,” I said. “A very dangerous, very clever cog but still part of something larger.”

So why wouldn’t my grandma want me to see this? I looked back at the orb. Its soft pulse remained silent, as though it had nothing more to say. But the weight of what it had shown me lingered in my chest like frost.

Twobble’s gaze narrowed slightly, thoughtful.

“You think he was following instructions?”

“Or picking up where someone else failed,” I said. “That woman in the orb… she looked like me, Twobble. I don’t know how or why, but she did. I think she was trying to protect the circle. Maybe even the Academy itself.”

“And she failed.”

“Shefell,” I said, remembering the exact way her knees buckled, how the ward around her cracked like thin glass. “She was overwhelmed. There were too many. Or… too much.”

“And now you’re afraid you’re next.”

I looked at him sharply, but I didn’t deny it.

Twobble sighed and dropped down from the chair, crossing the room to the small tea table beneath the window. He pulled open the top drawer and rummaged until he found a tin of spice-brew.

“How did you know that was in there?” My brows lifted.

“I’m your right-hand man.”

I chuckled and shook my head.

“I’ll make something warm,” he said over his shoulder. “Your room’s gotten chilly.”

I hadn’t noticed until he said it. The hearth was still glowing, but the warmth didn’t reach me. The cozy clutter of books and quilted pillows suddenly looked… dimmer, as if the shadows were taking up more space than they had a moment ago.

Frank let out a soft huff and rested his head on his paws.

“It’s not the orb,” Twobble added gently, pouring water into the small kettle. “It’syou. Your magic’s reacting to it and processing what it saw.”

I watched the orb from the corner of my eye. “It doesn’t feel like mine. But it feels… familiar.”

“An echo,” he said, striking the flint.

I nodded. “Or a memory passed through blood.”

We sat in silence while the kettle warmed, and I stared at the orb on my bed, as if it might change again, speak again. But it stayed quiet.

“I no longer think Gideon started this,” I said finally. “I think he found pieces of something that was already unraveling. Maybe he followed its whispers, maybe he was drawn to it like I was drawn to the Hedge. But I don’t think he created the curse.”