Page 32

I awoke to the scent of cinnamon and frost. Winter had slipped in with the speed of light and knocked spring off its feet again.

I blinked up at the intricate artwork on the ceiling and smiled.

The scent deepened.

Something spicy, a little wild, and just a hint of… lavender?

My dad lifted his head before I moved, and his ears twitched.

“You smell it too?” I whispered.

He grumbled in agreement, and I sat up slowly.

It wasn’t smoke, tea, or breakfast, either.

The scent was pure magic.

I swung my legs out of bed and dressed quickly, fingers brushing over the thick shawl draped on the chair by the window.

By the time I stepped into the hallway, the scent had grown stronger, interlaced with the soft hush of morning spells and a few faint voices echoing up from the lower floor.

I made my way down the corridor with my dad padding at my heels, ears perked.

The moment I reached the second arch, I spotted movement outside the stained-glass windows overlooking the gardens next to the Butterfly Ward.

Some students huddled together in an excited circle, staring at the hibernating herb gardens.

Not all of them. Just a few.

And not just any students.

Vampires.

Lady Limora stood tall and still at the edge of the frost-silvered hedge maze, her cloak pooling like ink at her boots. Mara and Opal flanked her, their postures elegant yet alert, their eyes catching the morning light like polished garnets.

Whatever they were looking at, it wasn’t the garden.

It didn’t seem to be in the direction of the Hedge either.

It seemed beyond.

I slipped down the side corridor that led to the garden doors, casting a warmth spell over my shoulders as I pushed through the old oak arch.

The moment I stepped outside, the scent grew stronger.

Cinnamon.

Frost.

Lavender.

And something older, deeper.

Lady Limora turned her head slightly as I approached, her voice smooth as honeyed wine. “Headmistress.”

“I was going to say good morning,” I said, breath puffing in the cold. “But something tells me it’s not quite a usual morning.”

Mara gave a dry chuckle. “It started normally. Tea. A pre-sunrise stroll. And then—this.”

She gestured forward, toward the edge of the Butterfly Ward.

At first, I didn’t see it.

Just low mist clinging to the earth like a forgotten dream.

Then it shimmered.

Again.

A path.

New.

Woven of briars, frost-kissed vines, and something… golden.

Not gold.

Golden.

As if I were staring at rays of sunshine wrapped in fog.

Opal leaned in slightly. “It wasn’t here yesterday. We’ve walked this path every morning for the last several days. This wasn’t here.”

“Agreed. I was out here yesterday, too. I’m sure I would have noticed it, especially being so close to the Hedge.”

Lady Limora’s eyes met mine. “We believe it opened for someone.”

“Who?”

“That’s the mystery, isn’t it?” Mara said, flashing a grin.

I took a step closer. The path pulsed faintly beneath the mist, not inviting exactly, but aware.

Alive.

My dad stayed rooted near my boots, letting out a low, inquisitive growl.

I pressed a hand to my hip as my butterfly birthmark tingled faintly. It seemed to whisper a faint direction: Look.

The mist curled along the edges of the new path, leading deeper into the Hedge. It was as if the garden had grown overnight, just enough to change the rules.

“I don’t think this path is dangerous,” Lady Limora said, stepping to my side. “But its origins are ancient . ”

“How old?” I asked.

She glanced down the path, her face unreadable. “Older than us.”

That gave me pause.

“I wanted you to see it,” she added. “Before a student stumbles into it.”

I looked at the three of them, vampire women, midlife witches, radiant in their quiet, unyielding way, and felt something warm settle behind my ribs.

“I trust your instincts,” I said.

“Then trust this,” Opal murmured. “It’s not random. This path was made for someone who’s looking for something.”

“Or someone who needs to remember something,” Lady Limora added.

The breeze shifted, curling the mist higher before letting it settle.

A hush fell over the garden.

Opal cleared her throat. “For you, I’d imagine.”

My dad barked once, short and sharp, to get my attention.

And the golden path flittered brighter.

“I’m not walking into it today,” I said, smiling a little. “But I’ll find out what it wants. What does it mean?”

Lady Limora inclined her head. “We’ll be here. Watching it.”

“All three of you?” I asked, arching a brow.

She gave a rare, almost mischievous smile. “Rotation. We’ve already discussed it. One of us at all times.”

“It’s that dangerous?”

“They can be,” Lady Limora said with a shrug. “Why take a chance? We don’t need the Academy getting in trouble because some nosy witch wandered onto the wrong path.”

Mara stepped forward, boots crunching frost. “This counts as our first real assignment, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” I said. “And a rather important one.”

Even though I had no idea what this was or why it mattered, it was Academy style, as usual. Things had a habit of appearing when they were meant to be found, and I had an unsettling feeling it had to do with me again since I was constantly playing catch-up.

Not to mention, I was really hoping I didn’t conjure it up unknowingly like I did the shimmer in the Academy hallway. I shuddered at the thought.

Opal pulled her cloak tighter and added with a smirk, “Nothing says back in school like mysterious portals and being volun told to guard them.”

“Very clever.” I couldn’t help but grin. “If anything changes, any color, scent, flicker, tell me immediately. This could be nothing, or it could be... a trap.” I hesitated, glancing back at the glittering path.

“We’ll keep our fangs sharp,” Mara promised, giving a playful flash of teeth.

“I never doubted that.”

With the agreement settled, I left Lady Limora stationed near the hedge while Opal headed inside for rest, and Mara stayed on to take first watch.

My dad gave the path one last suspicious snort before trudging beside me toward the main gardens. I was halfway across the lawn when I heard footsteps behind me, quick and familiar.

“Maeve!” Stella’s voice chimed over the frost.

I turned to see her approaching, her cloak billowing and her boots kicking up wisps of mist. She carried a satchel full of clinking jars and dried herbs, her cheeks pink with cold and curiosity.

“I figured I’d find you out here,” she said. “This is the same scent that drifted past the tea shop windows this morning. I thought I was imagining things. I hoped I was imagining things.”

“You weren’t,” I said. “Something opened. A new path in the hedge.”

“Ooh,” she said, eyes lighting up. “Tell me more.”

“I was just heading in to—”

But before I could finish, Stella had veered toward the path, her shoes crunching frost as she approached the glow. She stopped a few feet short and tilted her head, eyes scanning the opening like it was an old friend hiding behind a curtain.

“Careful,” I warned. “We’re not stepping into it until we know what it wants.”

Stella waved a hand. “I’m not that reckless.”

Just then, Mara bent over to inspect the moss along the edge of the path. Her cloak had fluttered up in the breeze, revealing far more leg than it should’ve and, well… a great deal of Mara’s firmly planted backside.

Stella blinked. “Is she… digging?”

Stella squinted. “Is she wearing heels?”

“I—maybe?”

“Now I know we’re dealing with magic,” she said, grinning. Then she raised her voice. “Mara, darling, if the wind lifts your skirts any higher, we’re going to need a full moon report!”

Mara snapped upright so fast she nearly tripped over her own shoes.

“Stella!” she squeaked, adjusting her cloak with exaggerated dignity. “I was investigating a disturbance.”

“Of course you were,” Stella said sweetly. “And doing it with exceptional enthusiasm.”

Mara glared, but the corner of her mouth twitched.

“You’ve always loved to show off your wears,” Stella teased and turned to me, her expression shifting from playful to curious. “So. Portal?”

“Maybe,” I said. “It wasn’t here yesterday. It came into being sometime overnight. The vampires found it first, thank goodness. They’re keeping watch while I try to figure out if it’s dangerous.”

Stella stepped closer to the path, her shoes just shy of the glowing line. She crouched, reached into her bag, and pulled out a small bottle of dried rue and another filled with iron shavings.

“What are you—”

“I’ve seen this before,” she said, not looking up. “Sort of.”

I froze. “Wait—what?”

“Not here. Not exactly this. But something like it was near the cottage decades ago. Same scent. Same glow. Same sense of time holding its breath. It’s why I followed my nose back to the Academy. I’d planned on staying at the tea shop today since I don’t have any classes to teach.”

“What was it?”

She stood, brushing her hands off. “A calling path. They’re rare.

Some old earth-bound magic. They appear when someone, typically someone with a deep magic or bloodline resonance, needs to recall, reclaim, or reconnect with something deeply buried.

They don’t hurt you, but they don’t let you through unless you’re the one they’re meant for. ”

I stared at her, but my mind drifted back to the orb that left me with so many unanswered questions.

“How do you know this?”

Stella smiled softly. “Elira taught me a thing or two when we were young. And you forget. I’ve lived here longer than most. You think I just sell tea and biscuits?”

“Well, yes.”

She winked. “Then I’m doing it right.”

I looked back at the glimmering path, now pulsing softly as Mara resumed her stance a safe distance away.

“So it’s not a trap?” I asked.

“Not a trap, ” Stella said. “But not without risk. If it’s meant for you or someone connected to you, it’ll test them. These paths often do. Emotionally. Spiritually. Sometimes magically.”

I swallowed. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“But,” she added gently, “they always give something back. A memory, a name, a truth. You go through when you’re ready. Not before.”

My dad, still beside me, let out a low rumble. It wasn’t a warning.

It was agreement.

I took a long breath, and the cold stung my lungs just enough to bring me fully into the moment.

“I’ll investigate it soon,” I said. “But not alone.”

Stella nodded. “Good. And in the meantime, keep the vampires rotated. Let the Academy breathe around it. See what stirs.”

We both turned toward the golden aura curling gently through the path.

Like a doorway waiting for the right hand.

Or the right heart.

And deep down, I had a feeling that it was waiting for me.