Page 171 of Magical Mission

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The kitchen always smelled like memory.

Even in the middle of a bustling Academy morning, with magically puffed pastries squeaking from the oven racks and a half-sentient kettle doing laps across the counter, the kitchen remained its own pocket of calm.

The sensation was a warmth that seeped into the bones, neither flashy nor ancient, but steady.

Like Twobble.

He hopped up onto a stool beside the long oak table in the center of the room, swinging his feet and nudging a stubborn cookie tin aside to make room for me. He didn’t push. Didn’t start talking. Just waited while I poured two mugs of tea—one for me, one for him. The steam curled between us, soft and herbal, laced with honey.

I didn’t sit right away.

Instead, I ran my hand over the smooth tabletop and let out a slow breath. “No judgment, right?”

“None,” he said, without hesitation.

I nodded and finally dropped onto the stool across from him.

There were others I could talk to. Nova would have analyzed it all in terms of magic, equilibrium, and ripple effects. Ardetia might’ve said something poetic and vaguely unsettling. Keegan—well, he’d listen. But he’dworry.I didn’t want worry.

I wantedTwobble.

The goblin who had seen me through the worst of things with his oddly specific snack preferences, sarcastic commentary, and gift for appearing just when I needed someone.

So I started talking.

Not in a rush. Not from the top.

But from the middle, where all the tangled pieces lived.

“I expected to choose,” I said quietly. “That was the whole point. These paths... they’re supposed to strip you down to the core and show you which way your soul leans.”

Twobble nodded, sipping his tea with both hands.

“I understood Celeste. She’s my anchor. My reason for everything. Of course, that path would exist.”

He said nothing, only raised one eyebrow in acknowledgment.

“And Keegan... I mean, that man could charm a dragon into therapy. He’s calm in chaos. I’ve leaned on him more than I probably should, and still, he never makes me feel like I’m too much or too little.”

“Mm-hmm,” Twobble murmured, clearly agreeing without interrupting.

“And the Academy,” I continued. “This place holds something I didn’t even know I was missing until I steppedinside it. It doesn’t just need me, itmirrorsme. I feel alive here in ways I haven’t since... maybe ever.”

I paused.

But Twobble waited. No prodding. Just letting me sort it in my own time.

Then I whispered, “But Gideon...”

Twobble’s cup paused midair.

“That one’s different.”

I nodded, ashamed to even say it. “Ishouldn’twant to know more. Ishouldn’tfeel a pull. He’s dangerous. Unstable. He’s hurt people, my father and Keegan…He tried to hurt me.”

“And yet?” Twobble prompted, voice low and steady.