Page 35

The Academy’s lanterns had dimmed by the time we returned, casting everything in soft amber and blue shadows. The great stone corridors echoed with the gentle hum of sleeping enchantments. Apparently, it was a common thread to keep midlife women asleep.

The doors shut behind us with a quiet click, muffled under the hush of the hour. The air was cooler inside, tinged with the scent of old books and warmth from distant hearths. We stepped softly, instinctively, as if waking the place too soon would be a mistake.

Twobble was the first to break the silence.

“Well,” he said, yawning wide enough to nearly unhinge his jaw, “that was a very long detour for one cup of tea, a ghost sighting, and emotional growth I didn’t ask for.”

I smiled softly. “Thank you for coming.”

He waved a hand. “I went for the biscuit.”

Keegan chuckled beside me. “And yet somehow, you managed to eavesdrop through most of it.”

Twobble turned, already ambling down the hall. “It’s a skill. One of many. I’m off to bed before something else magical decides to show up uninvited and mess with my mood. If the path tries to talk to me, I’m shoving a sock in it.”

“Goodnight, Twobble,” I said, watching him disappear around the corner with a trail of muttered complaints.

And then it was just me and Keegan.

The silence between us was warmer than it had been before. It was laced with something heavier than exhaustion and far more dangerous than comfort.

It was hard not to think back to the moment his eyes fell to my lips and how I hoped for a kiss.

We walked slowly down the corridor as the moonlight spilled through the tall windows in streaks of silver, and the whole place felt like it was holding its breath.

“Back here again,” he said quietly. “Where it all began.”

I glanced sideways. “Still sure you want to walk into the magical mystery portal with me in the morning?”

He gave a low, almost amused hum. “Well, it’s either that or help Nova sort the armory. This sounds slightly less dangerous.”

“I make no promises.”

“You never do.”

We reached the turn toward my quarters, and I stopped just before the door.

Keegan leaned against the doorframe like he’d always belonged there. Arms crossed, expression unreadable, with a smirk just barely tugging at the corner of his mouth.

And stars help me, he looked good doing it.

He looked so good.

There was something about the way his broad shoulders filled the space. The casual strength of him just called to me. The fact that I could still feel the heat from our shared walk, could still smell the faint scent of cedar and leather on his coat, told me I wasn’t falling for him. I already had.

My stomach fluttered.

“You leaning there for dramatic effect?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light.

“Maybe,” he said. “Is it working?”

Dangerously.

I turned the knob, the door creaking open with a familiar sigh.

The fireplace, unlit, stirred awake with a few flickers of light, as if the Academy had expected me back just in time for reflection.

I turned back to him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For volunteering. For coming back to the cottage. For agreeing to walk into the unknown with me.” I smiled. “And for bringing me to my room.”

He shrugged lightly, but his gaze held mine with quiet intensity. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s what I do.”

I didn’t know what to do with that.

So I smiled. “You won’t be able to go the whole way.”

His brow rose. “Are we talking metaphorically or about the path tomorrow?”

I chuckled and shook my head. “The path, Keegan.”

“Just checking.” Mischief twinkled behind his gaze, and my heart twisted a little tighter.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Being a part of this is important to me. Whether I get to go all the way with you or not, I’d rather have that than nothing.”

My brows lifted. “Are we talking metaphorically or…” I leaned against the door, suddenly aware of how close we were.

How the glow of the sconces painted his face in soft light, and how the silence between us wasn’t empty, but full of all the things we hadn’t said yet.

“I should let you sleep,” he said, though he didn’t move.

“Probably,” I murmured.

He didn’t step back.

I didn’t either.

The pull between us was magnetic, yet not explosive, not rushed, not yet.

It was just steady like the gravity that you stop trying to fight once you realize it’s been there all along.

But he pushed off the frame slowly, eyes never leaving mine.

“First thing in the morning,” he said. “We step in together.”

I nodded, pulse quickening. “First thing.”

His fingers brushed my wrist briefly. It was light, almost accidental, but not really.

Then he turned and disappeared down the corridor.

I watched him go until he vanished around the bend, and then I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, pressing my back to it with a breath that felt far too loud in the quiet.

The calling path would wait for morning.

But the promise of what came next had already begun.

My dad walked down the corridor, and I kept the door open as he waddled through the opening.

The soft magic hummed in the walls, barely audible over the faint crackle of the hearth beginning to glow. A few golden orbs of light bobbed near the ceiling, drifting slowly like they were trying not to disturb anything.

With a bulldog sigh, my dad made a direct line for the thick rug by the fireplace, where he turned twice and collapsed with a satisfied grunt. His snoring began almost immediately in a gentle, rhythmic sound that filled the room like a lullaby from another life.

I slipped off my shoes and let the shawl fall from my shoulders. Everything felt heavier now that I was alone, as if silence had made room for the questions I’d been holding off all day.

I crossed to the window, pulling the curtain back with two fingers, just enough to peer out into the moonlight-drenched gardens.

And there she was.

Lady Limora.

She stood at the very edge of the hedge maze, a dark silhouette against the glimmer of silver grass. Her cloak fluttered slightly in the breeze; her posture was regal and unmoving. She didn’t shift, didn’t pace. She simply watched.

The path pulsed faintly behind her, still golden and glowing, and still waiting for me.

I pressed my hand to the cold glass.

What did it want?

What would it show me?

What if it wasn’t even meant for me?

That thought lodged somewhere deeper than it should have. It hadn’t occurred to me before that the magic could be wrong. That it could be whispering to the wrong person, or that I was simply standing in the way of someone else’s revelation.

What if I stepped into it and it showed me nothing?

What if it expected more than I had to give?

I let the curtain fall back into place and leaned my forehead against the window frame.

It wasn’t doubt, exactly.

It was fear.

Of being unworthy.

Of finding out that all the steps I’d taken toward the Academy, toward Stonewick, toward the woman I was still learning how to be, had been building to a moment I wasn’t meant for.

My dad snorted in his sleep, kicking once at the air like he was chasing something through dreams.

I smiled faintly and turned away from the window.

I lit a single lavender candle near the bed and tugged back the quilt. My body ached, not just from the day, but from the holding on . The way I’d braced myself for every conversation, every spell, every step forward had finally taken a toll.

I slipped beneath the covers, the familiar softness wrapping around me like a memory. The air smelled faintly soothing and familiar with each flicker of the candle, promising nothing terrible could reach me here.

My eyes drifted to the fire, where my dad had tucked his snout beneath one paw and let out a soft snore. His fur rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his tail twitching every now and then like he was dreaming of long walks and forbidden snacks.

My dad.

In this odd, magical form.

It still caught me off guard sometimes how fiercely he stayed close, how he watched me without judgment. I hadn’t asked him to. He simply… had.

And somehow that grounded me more than any spell.

I stared at the ceiling, watching the faint shimmer of the ward light shift with the wind outside the window.

Tomorrow, I would step into something older than my knowing. Something that had waited silently until I was ready to see it.

But tonight?

Tonight, I was just Maeve.

A woman in a warm bed, under a blanket she loved, in a room where the walls knew her name.

I let out a long, slow breath and blew out the candle.

The pull of the calling path still buzzed beneath my skin, low and steady. But it didn’t feel urgent, merely insistent.

It was as if it knew I needed time.

To rest.

To question.

To feel it all before I faced whatever it had to offer.

I turned onto my side and pulled the quilt higher beneath my chin.

And with the soft rustle of the wind outside, and the warmth of my not-so-empty room, I finally let myself surrender to stillness, uncertainty, and sleep.

Meanwhile, the path waited, quiet and gleaming beneath the watchful eyes of a vampire guardian and the stars that kept their own counsel.

Tomorrow would come, but tonight, I would finally let go.