Page 29 of Magical Mission

“Me?”

“You,” I said again, a slow grin spreading across my face. “You’re one of them.”

“One of… what, exactly?” he asked, clearly suspicious now.

I didn’t answer right away.

My gaze flicked to Stella, who was making polite conversation with a passing student. Then to Ember, who stood quietly, eyes taking in every detail of the entry hall like she already knew the secrets it hadn’t shared yet. And my dad, Frank, who had taken up his usual stance, planted loyally at the base of the grand staircase, snoring like he’d lived here all his life.

The answer formed in my mind before I could speak it aloud.

They belong here.

All of them.

Stella, with her warm hands and warmer heart, her magical brews that calmed nightmares and healed more than just bruises. She could teach the women here how to remember joy, how to find strength in rituals as simple as brewing a proper pot of tea. How to stir intentions into honey and find healing in the mundane. It didn’t hurt that she had all the skills of a perfect kitchen witch. Recipes were no longer disasters under her helm.

Ember, quiet and clever Ember, who could pass between walls like mist through trees. She knew the difference between hiding and surviving, and how to teach someone to do both without losing themselves. She never raised her voice but had an entire presence that could silence a room.

And Keegan.

Keegan, whose very blood hummed with wild magic like shifting, grounding, fierce, and unyielding. A warlock who was strong, loyal, and unrelenting. Who better to teach women craving the magic?

But more than that, he resisted the pull of the other side.

The darker one.

The one Gideon leaned into like it was a throne.

Keegan had every reason to fall and didn’t. His family, friends, and clan all abandoned him, and he stood strong.

Stonewick needed more ofthat.

The Academy needed more of that.

He was the quiet reminder of why the curse needed to be broken and why the Academy stood open.

And my dad, sweet, stubborn, snoring Frank, who’d spent most of his life misunderstood, underestimated, and cast aside by his clan for his breed and bulldog bulk. Maybe he didn’t look like a wolf, but he was loyal, smart, and protective. But most of all, he was kind and empathetic.

Who else could teach a classroom of midlife women who’d been told they were too loud, too emotional, too old, and too late when really they werejust getting started?

I stepped toward Keegan, my pulse steady now, my decision a warm glow beneath my skin.

“You’re not just here to visit,” I said, quiet but sure.

He blinked. “I’m not? I’m pretty sure that was all I had on the docket.”

I chuckled and shook my head. “No. You’re here to teach.”

His laugh was startled, rough around the edges. “Me? Teach? Maeve, I’m barely housebroken.”

“Exactly. You’re perfect.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again. “What would I even teach?”

“How to resist the shadows. How to stay tethered when everything around you wants you to slip away. You’re the most powerful warlock I’ve ever met.”

“Am I the only one you’ve met?”