Page 23

Afternoon classes were winding down, and students bustled through the corridors, letting laughter, shouting, and mistaken spells lead the way.

Magic sparked in the corners, harmless and half-baked. One woman passed me with her shoes levitating three inches off the floor, floating by and muttering, “I didn’t mean to enchant them. I just wanted to change the color.”

I smiled, despite myself, and in the center of it all stood Stella, like the world had spun itself to orbit around her.

And maybe it had. She had a way about her that drew people to her. It was one of the reasons her tea shop did so well.

Today, she wore a plum-colored shawl, with sparkles of gold at the fringe, and held a porcelain teapot in one hand while continually refilling everyone’s mugs.

She gave each one a look, a wink, and a bit of honeyed advice.

“Homework stress tea,” she told one lady. “Made with valerian, courage, and the memory of your best night’s sleep.”

The woman stopped and beamed. “Thank you for this. I forgot what it was like to have homework.” I took a second look at her and realized she was one of our newest arrivals, a fae from the area that Ardetia was from.

It still tickled me how the Academy was bringing souls together under one magical roof for the same cause. It was about time.

To another, Stella winked and said, “This one’s for heartbreak. Or poor grades. Same difference.”

Laughter rippled around her, lifting the edges of the corridor.

The smell of rosemary and garlic filled the air, and for the first time since the vision, since the Hedge, since him , I felt my heartbeat begin to even out.

I belonged here.

The Academy was mine now.

But the thought brought a flicker of unease.

Because something might be threatening it.

Or Stonewick. Or both.

And I didn’t know which yet.

I stood at the edge of the corridor, tea steam curling in the air like protection, and let the chatter wash over me.

The message. The vision. The cloaked figure at the edge.

What if the threat wasn’t from outside?

What if it was something already here?

I didn’t notice Keegan until his shoulder brushed mine gently.

“You’re quiet.”

I looked up into his face. His gaze locked on mine instantly, steady, and knowing…honestly, too observant for his own good.

Bella stood beside him, arms folded across her chest, the edges of her fox braid already coming loose.

“You look like you’ve been thinking too hard,” she said, sniffing the air. “Have you had anything to eat?”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly.

But then it occurred to me I haven’t eaten much lately. I’d just been zooming from one situation to the next.

“Which means no,” Bella muttered, followed by a look, half stern, half affectionate.

She wandered off toward the dining hall with a muttered promise to bring back something warm.

I turned back to Keegan, who was still watching me.

He said nothing.

Just waited.

“Everything’s okay,” I offered.

He didn’t answer and just tilted his head at me, slowly.

“Really,” I added, forcing a smile that wasn’t as light as I meant it to be. “I’m just… glad to be back inside. It’s cozy chaos in here.”

“It is,” he agreed.

Then, after a beat, he added, “But is everything okay?”

I opened my mouth.

Closed it.

And then let out a long breath that seemed to come from someplace far deeper than I expected.

“I don’t know if it’s okay,” I said quietly. “Not yet.”

His expression didn’t change, but something in his shoulders shifted in patience.

His eyes stayed on mine. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I know,” I said. “But I will. I just… need to understand it first.”

He nodded without pushing or stepping away, either.

I glanced past him to where the students darted around Stella, sipping tea and trading theories on enchantment homework and magical dating disasters.

This was the life I had helped breathe back into the Academy.

My fingers curled around the fabric of my sleeve as I thought about what lay ahead.

Keegan must have noticed, because his hand reached out, not quite touching mine, just resting nearby in a quiet offer.

It steadied me more than I expected.

I stood there beside Keegan, holding the silence between us like something fragile, necessary, and safe.

I didn’t feel ready to tell him, but I also didn’t feel alone.

Bella returned like a storm in a cloak, much swifter than I expected, and held a parchment-wrapped bundle in one hand and a cup of something that steamed like broth in the other.

She handed me the bundle without a word, but her eyes had that look that I’d come to love. A mixture of sharp, teasing, and maternal in the way only a fox shifter could be without actually trying shone on her expression.

I opened the paper and blinked down at the contents, which included a warm panini pressed and golden. The kitchen sprites had crisped it to perfection, featuring tomato, mozzarella, and basil.

“Eat,” she said, already nudging my elbow like she’d decided arguing wasn’t permitted.

I gave her a dry look, amused despite myself. “You think I’m going to shrivel away? I have enough padding to get me through more than a few missed meals.”

“I know you,” she said, sinking into the bench beside me. “You get all witchy and withdrawn and forget your body needs things. Like food. Sleep. Not gazing into shadowy corners of the world until your soul unravels.”

“I don’t unravel,” I said, grinning faintly. “I tangle creatively.”

Keegan chuckled next to me.

Bella narrowed her eyes. “Eat the sandwich, Maeve.”

I took a bite.

The bread was crisp, the cheese melted just enough, and the tomatoes were from the greenhouse’s winter yield…sun-kissed, even in February.

“You’re not going to let me disappear into a mist of dried herbs and existential dread, are you?”

“Not on my watch,” Bella said. “You’ve got at least three more decades of weird magical destiny to fulfill.”

“Only three?” I teased.

“Maybe four,” she said. “But I’m not taking chances. You’re too useful. And Keegan would get grumpier.”

Keegan gave a mild shrug, but his lips tugged upward.

“She's not wrong,” he said. “The place runs better when you’re steady and present.”

I looked at them both and smiled. Bella was warm and fierce, while Keegan was steady and quiet. Two of the people who had shown up when I needed them, whether I asked or not.

And behind us, Stella still held court with her teapot, passing warmth from hand to hand like magic made of honey and cloves.

This wasn’t a spell or a shield, but it was something just as strong.

Maybe stronger.

Friendship.

I took another bite and let myself believe, for just a moment, that whatever darkness hovered on the edges hadn’t won anything yet.

And I wasn’t facing it alone.

Keegan stretched his arms overhead until his shoulder blades cracked, then dropped them with a sigh as he leaned back against the wall beside me.

“I’m officially done pretending to be a teacher for the day,” he said. “I’m heading into town to check on the inn and run a few errands. You know…my actual job.”

I gasped, hand to my chest in mock horror. “You mean to tell me that inspiring magical midlife witches isn’t your true calling ?”

He gave me a crooked smile. “I said I’d help out here. I didn’t say I was cut out to explain how spell symmetry works to a room full of people who barely slept and think hexes are romantic gestures.”

“Hexes are romantic gestures. If they’re well-crafted.”

“Maeve.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, laughing. “But you’re basically admitting the Academy isn’t your real job?”

He crossed his arms. “Running an inn that doubles as neutral territory for magical travelers, keeping rogue spell-crafters from charming the linens, managing guests with opinions about the wallpaper—that’s my job. This”—he gestured at the hall—“is... volunteer work. Without hazard pay.”

I smirked and took another slow sip of broth, but I didn’t argue. Not really.

Because part of me was relieved.

Keegan had that way of knowing too much just by watching. I’d felt his eyes on me all day, like he was waiting for me to talk about the Hedge. Or the message. Or the bent circle still echoing in my mind.

And while I trusted him, I did, there was something inside me that hadn’t found its voice yet. Some instinct still coiled quietly, saying, 'Wait.'

“I’ll be back by dinner,” he said, pushing off the wall and brushing tea crumbs from his sleeve. “You need anything from Stonewick?”

“Short of a whole week where no one casts a spell that bites someone? I think I’m good.”

He nodded. “Well. I’ll leave the biting to the library books then.”

I snorted.

He started down the hall, but not before glancing over his shoulder, just once. “Don’t go unlocking any mysterious doors while I’m gone.”

“No promises.” I chewed the last bite of my panini and smiled.

“Didn’t think so.”

And then he was gone, his long stride already melting into the afternoon bustle as the Academy resumed its daily song of laughter, boots, and magically induced chaos.

I stood still for a few moments after, mug warm in my hands, heart lighter than it had been all day.

But beneath that lightness, the pull remained.

Not to the garden. Not to the Hedge.

To the library.

The place that whispered when no one else was listening.

I wasn’t surprised. I’d been trying to ignore the tug for hours, ever since I stepped back inside the Academy. But it had grown harder to resist, like the stone beneath my feet was humming my name, soft and steady and too familiar to be denied.

And with Keegan gone… I no longer had a reason to put it off.

I was about to set my cup on a windowsill when two kitchen sprites appeared and whisked it away.

Slowly walking toward the library, I let out a deep breath and felt a sense of immense relief. I would find answers. We always did.

Because the best knowledge wasn’t waiting under candlelight and copper-spined tomes.

It was buried.

Waiting.

And it was time for me to start digging.

The moment I stepped into the library, the scent of vellum and ancient ink wrapped around me like an old memory.

Students were scattered across the main tables, hunched over scrolls and jotting notes with enchanted quills that occasionally paused to shake themselves out like tired birds.

A goblin stood at the far end with a wand pointed sternly at a rebellious stack of books that refused to alphabetize themselves.

I gave her a soft nod and moved past, deeper into the aisles.

The murmur of pages and the rhythmic creak of the upper gallery ladders filled the air. Everything about the library was warm and familiar and reminded me of my first time at the Academy when only the sprites, my grandma, and I wandered the aisles.

But under the nostalgia, I could feel something else. A subtle pull, like my magic brushing against the spine of a memory I hadn’t touched yet, started calling.

I didn’t know where I was going, but the library did.

That’s the thing about living structures, especially magical ones. They pay attention. They learn your breath, your footsteps, the shape of your needs before you name them.

So I walked past stacks with names I knew.Spied literature on herbal enchantments and alchemical misfires.

I roamed deeper when three book sprites darted into my path. Their wings glimmered like pressed glass, and their eyes alight with purpose. One circled my head and tugged a strand of hair. Another zipped ahead, paused, then waved me on.

“All right,” I whispered. “I’m coming.”

They led me past the rear study chambers, and the air cooled slightly as the dust danced in the light.

We stopped at a narrow aisle hemmed in by two towering shelves of aged volumes. The sprites hovered, then parted like they were stepping aside for something sacred.

My heart thudded.

I reached out and let my fingers skim the spines.

History of Bent Wards and Their Consequences.

That wasn’t what I expected.

I pulled it free.

And behind it, tucked in the hollow space where the book had rested, was something I didn’t recognize.

A box that was small, square, and wrapped in deep violet fabric, frayed at the edges.

It thrummed faintly with magic.

I stared.

And that’s when I realized—

It was humming.

Soft and low, like a lullaby I couldn’t quite place.

I reached out.

And just before my fingers touched the cloth, a voice echoed behind me.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”