Page 194 of Magical Mission

“I’ll grab you extra pillows,” I offered. “And maybe something for your feet?”

“Unless you can conjure up a new pelvis, I think I’m good.”

Despite everything, I laughed. I helped her settle next to my daughter, adding the thickest quilt to her side and placing an old stool nearby in case she needed something to prop her legs up on.

The room dimmed slowly as the sconces faded into warm golds, as if the cottage were lowering its voice for the night.

Celeste had already drifted into a light snore, her cheek smushed against the pillow, her hair splayed in every direction. I tucked the quilt higher over her shoulders before turning to Skye, who was blinking slowly, her hand resting protectively over her belly.

“Thanks,” she said softly. “For letting us come. I know it’s... sudden.”

I shook my head. “You’re here. That’s all that matters.”

She gave me a tired smile and let her eyes fall shut.

I stood in the quiet a moment longer, watching them both—the woman who knew me better than anyone, and the daughter who’d made me believe in love that didn’t need rationality or logic. They had no idea what they’d walked into, no idea how closely I was still dancing along the edges of something shadowed and waiting. But they were here. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel torn between worlds. I just felt whole.

Downstairs, the fire had burned low, crackling gently. The cottage creaked like it always did at night—settling, stretching, sighing in its bones. I moved slowly through the kitchen, pouring the last of the tea into a mug and carrying it to the window seat that overlooked the dark.

Outside, the woods were hushed. The stars shimmered overhead, veiled slightly by mist rolling in from the east. Somewhere in the garden, a hedgehog rustled through the mint patch, and the wind chattered in the vines around the porch.

I sipped the tea and let myself breathe.

They came all this way.

Without knowing what was here, without knowingwhoI’d become.

And the cottage had let them in.

It hadn’t warned me. It hadn’t sent me a whisper or shimmer or anything.

It had simplyopened.

Because maybe it knew I needed them, even if I wasn’t ready to admit it.

Skye and Celeste were the last threads I’d kept loosely knotted to my old life, the one filled with back-to-school nights, overcooked pasta dinners, and text threads full of snarky emojis and mom complaints. I’d always thought keeping them separate from Stonewick was how I protected them. But now that they were here...

Maybe it wasn’t about keeping them away.

Maybe it was aboutletting them inon my terms.

I stared into the woods beyond the garden, toward the place where the trees grew just a little too thick and the mist curled unnaturally.

Shadowick waited out there.

And it wasn’t going to wait forever.

But for now, just for tonight, I could let the world pause. I could breathe in the comfort of quilts and honeyed tea and old laughter echoing through the walls.

They were safe.

They were here.

And so was I.

I didn’t realize I needed a break until the cottage handed it to me.

The Academy, with its humming Wards, its unpredictable stairs, its endless hallways filled with voices and spellwork and my looming expectations, hadn’t followed me here. At least, not entirely.