Page 11

I woke before the sun, and my heart pounded as if I’d been running through something dark.

For a second, I didn’t know where I was.

The ceiling overhead was high and arched, framed in sunlight, the faint shimmer of protective spells laced into the corners.

The bed beneath me was warm, the quilt rumpled and tangled around my legs.

Frank snored softly at the footboard, his big, heavy breath comforting in its constancy.

But something was off.

I sat up slowly, pressing a palm to my chest. My skin was damp with sweat, despite the cool room. The air felt too still, as if I were stuck in a pause.

A dream.

I knew I’d had one. But the details slipped through my mind, impossible to grasp.

But the sensation from the images remained. It felt as if there was more left to haunt me with. Something waiting. Something watching.

Hedge Witch.

Was I just sensing something in between here and there, or was it merely my imagination?

My stomach turned.

I didn’t remember the dream, but I remembered how it felt.

Unnerving. Too close. Someone was watching me whom I didn’t want to see.

I threw back the covers and swung my legs over the edge of the bed.

The floor was cold under my bare feet, grounding me for a second.

The room was quiet except for Frank’s steady snores, the occasional rustle of the window drapes in the breeze, and the distant thrum of the Academy’s heartbeat beneath it all.

Every day, I felt the connection a little stronger.

But even though everything looked the same, I didn’t feel the same.

Today was the first day of classes. I was supposed to be up early, bright-eyed and perky, setting the tone for a new chapter of magic and learning.

Instead, I felt like something was watching from just beyond the edge of waking.

I padded over to the bathroom and splashed cool water on my face, trying to shake off the feeling. The water trickled down my neck, and I shivered despite myself.

He had been in my dream.

Gideon.

I didn’t remember the words. I didn’t remember his face. But I knew it had been him. The sensation reminded me of the scent of smoke lingering after you’ve put out the fire. The fire was gone, but the essence remained.

I gripped the edge of the basin tightly, and my knuckles turned white.

He was watching. I knew it. I felt it. Somehow, he was pressing against the edge of this place. Maybe it wasn’t physically, not yet, but spiritually… psychically, or whatever the word was for the kind of looming that didn’t need a body.

The Academy had opened, and it hadn’t just called the lost and the hopeful.

It had stirred everything awake.

Even him.

I straightened and looked at myself in the mirror. My dark hair was a mess. My eyes were ringed with shadows. I looked like someone who hadn’t slept well in weeks.

But I didn’t look afraid.

That counted for something.

Behind me, Frank stirred and lifted his massive head before I stepped into the shower.

“Sorry for waking you,” I told my dad.

His jowls quivered in a sleepy grunt, but he looked at me like he knew.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “I know. I’m okay.”

The water rinsed down my spine as the soap suds drifted into the drain, and the mere act felt like I was washing away Shadowick.

By the time I’d finished and wrapped a towel around me, I felt a million times better.

Frank hopped down from the bed with a soft thud and wandered over to the window. One of his ears flopped lazily as he leaned into his favorite stool.

I got dressed slowly, pulling on a light and simple charcoal gray sweater with a faint embroidery of vines winding along the cuffs. I hadn’t chosen anything elaborate. I wanted to feel like myself.

The bells hadn’t rung yet. The rest of the Academy still slept, or at least pretended to, but I couldn’t.

I needed to walk. To breathe. To make sure the building still felt… safe.

It was quiet when I opened my bedroom door and stepped into the corridor. The lanterns along the walls still dimmed for pre-dawn.

My dad padded beside me, silent except for the occasional sniff and huff.

The dream clung to the corners of my mind like cobwebs. I kept brushing it away, but it stuck. The way my heart had pounded in sleep and the way I’d jolted awake. It had happened before.

Gideon had found a way in, even if it was just through my dreams.

And that scared me more than I wanted to admit.

Because dreams were doorways.

And doorways could be opened, especially by someone who had always known how to slip between things.

But what scared me worse was that in my heart, I knew I might be the one reaching out to him, to his realm.

As I turned down the corridor toward the old atrium, I let my hand trail along the wall. The stones were warm here as the magic held strong.

But I didn’t know for how long.

We had students, now.

Teachers. A heartbeat.

But the curse hadn’t broken yet, and while Stonewick was strengthening, it wasn’t ready yet.

The Wards still needed to strengthen, and we were merely on the first step.

I reached the window at the end of the hall and pressed my hand against the cool glass.

Outside, the garden shimmered with early light, and the Butterfly Ward glowed faintly in the distance like a memory of safety.

Seeing it thrive again was something I needed, but it also showed how frail everything still was while the Academy was strengthening.

My dad sat at my feet, letting out a low, thoughtful grumble.

“I know,” I whispered. “He’s close. Too close.”

And though the sun hadn’t completely risen, I stood there and watched the horizon because today wasn’t just the first day of class.

It was the first day of everything.

And I had no idea what that would bring.

I opened my bedroom door, and the last thing I expected to see was a stack of neatly folded papers sitting just outside.

It was as if the Academy never slept, or perhaps its extensive connection to sprites and otherworldly beings made it feel that way.

I blinked sleep from my eyes, crouched down, and picked up the bundle.

Dozens of thick parchment sheets tied with a thin lavender ribbon, still slightly warm as if they’d been hot off the printer, felt like a gift that I didn’t have to wrestle with.

I turned the top page over and immediately recognized the careful looping script.

Student Schedules.

My eyebrows lifted with relief.

All I had hoped for was that students would head in the right direction today, but this made it wonderfully official, and I could at least pretend to know what I was doing.

Thank, Academy.

“Alright then,” I muttered, tucking the stack under my arm.

My dad grunted at my feet, clearly unimpressed by the early hour or the lack of breakfast.

“I know,” I whispered, rubbing behind his ear. “But this is headmistress stuff. Very serious.”

He blinked at me with the expression of a creature who had seen far too much to be impressed by administrative duties.

I made my way down the main corridor as I moved through the hushed stillness of the waking Academy.

The sun had barely begun to rise. Just a faint glow over the courtyard windows. It was the kind of early morning that felt like it didn’t belong to anyone yet.

Minus the gentle tick of the clock on the wall and a couple of house sprites sweeping beneath the long dining tables, the dining hall was empty.

I set the stack down on the largest round table and pulled up a chair.

I looked down to see each schedule personalized with their name, magical category, elective preference, and instructor notes. I skimmed the top few with a furrowed brow.

Someone had clipped a note on Mara’s with the words, May challenge instructors to duels. Proceed with caution .

Another had a note for Opal that simply read, Allow for extra quiet time .

It made me realize just how much the Academy and Stonewick knew about us before we even knew ourselves.

I smiled despite myself and started arranging them into piles by wing, appreciating the silence as I worked.

It felt good to do something practical and nice to have my hands busy while my thoughts twisted quietly.

I’d slept restlessly, no doubt, and the dream, what little I remembered of it, had left a residue. Something unspoken that refused to shake loose, but I’d become accustomed to that feeling in recent months.

Beneath all the order and calm of the morning, I still felt the tight wire of unease humming just beneath my skin.

The one called Gideon.

I let out a sigh and didn’t look up when I heard footsteps behind me.

Only one person in this building moved like magic and smelled of cinnamon.

“Stella,” I said without turning. “You’re up early.”

She set a mug down beside my elbow. “I’m always up early. It’s why the tea shop suits me. I made some fresh for you.”

I looked at the tea, steaming and fragrant. It smelled of lavender and lemon balm with a touch of clove.

“You’re too good to me.”

“I know,” she said, sliding into the chair across from me.

We sat for a minute, both staring at the stacks of papers.

“You ready for this?” Her eyes twinkled as she took a slow sip from her cup, then glanced at me.

“Would it matter if I weren’t?”

“Nope.” She popped her lips with scarlet lip liner, and I laughed.

And she waited.

“It’s Gideon,” I said finally, my voice low. “He was in my dream last night. Or… I think he was. I can’t remember it exactly. Just the way it made me feel.”

“Like something was pressing against the window?” she asked.

I looked at her sharply. “Yes. How did you know?”

She nodded slowly. “You’re not the only one who’s felt it in life. And you have a look on your face of…violation mixed with worry.”

That startled me. “You’ve experienced that?”

“Not in dream form,” she said. “But I’ve been watched, hunted, preyed upon. It does something to the psyche.”

I sat back, the mug warming my hands as I stared at the table.

“I hope he’s not hunting me. I’ve been trying to pretend it’s just nerves,” I admitted. “But I know it’s about the dream.”

“Gideon hasn’t let go from the moment since he first felt you,” Stella said softly. “And I’m afraid it’s not merely the Academy he’s interested in.”

My chest tightened.

“That’s been my worry, too.” I cleared my throat. “But I can’t worry about everything all at once. Today is the first day of classes and new responsibilities, with all these students trusting me to… I don’t know. Build something for them.”

“You are building something,” she said, firmly. “And they’re here because of you. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be worried. Especially about him. ”

I looked into her face, which held the familiar, kind, and honest expression I’d come to love. She didn’t hand out platitudes or forced optimism. She was a solid sounding board.

“Do you think he’s trying to find a way in?” I asked finally.

Stella was quiet for a moment.

“I think he’s been looking for one,” she said softly. “And now that the Academy is open, it’s visible again. Alive again. Which means it’s vulnerable in a way it hasn’t been in decades. Even an old wrinklebutt like me can walk in.”

I chuckled, but a chill ran down my arms, despite the tea and laughter.

She leaned in. “You can’t stop him from trying. But you can prepare.”

I exhaled slowly. “The Wards are holding. For now. But if he finds a crack…”

“Then we plug it before it widens. All these minds will only strengthen the Wards in time.”

“Time.” I gave a weak laugh. “Just like that, huh?”

“Maeve,” she said gently. “You’ve got teachers. Guardians. Students.”

My eyes flicked to her, and she reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

“I can’t promise he won’t come back. But I can promise you won’t be alone when he does.”

I nodded, throat too tight to speak for a moment.

And there, in the quiet morning glow, surrounded by schedules, magical notes, and a Dad who snored louder than a storm cloud, I let myself believe that maybe, even with Gideon out there, we still stood a chance.

Especially if we stood together.