Page 39

The weight of it hit me all at once.

I staggered forward.

The ground beneath me was solid, but my legs betrayed me. My knees buckled, and the sky spun in a slow, dazzling arc above, and before I could cry out, a pair of strong arms caught me, sure, steady, and warm.

Keegan.

He knelt with me, arms bracing my shoulders, one hand cradling the back of my head like I might disappear if he let go.

“Maeve.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it vibrated in my chest. “You’re here. You’re okay.”

I wanted to answer him, but the words tangled in my throat. My vision swam, all shimmer and sunlight and memory, and all I could do was lean into him and breathe.

Then came the others.

Their footsteps were swift, purposeful, and nearly soundless.

“Move—move, let me see her!” Mara’s voice, quick and sharp with concern, sliced through the rising buzz of the garden.

“She’s conscious,” Lady Limora said behind her, but even she sounded breathless. I had never heard her voice tremble before.

“Keegan,” Vivienne’s cool, elegant tone layered over theirs, “lay her back gently. If she’s bleeding internally—”

“She’s not,” Keegan said. “I’ve got her. She just… she fell through something.”

I blinked again, forcing my eyes to focus. The vampires stood in a half-circle around us, pale and radiant in the new sunlight, their expressions a mixture of astonishment, worry, and something very close to fear.

“Maeve,” Lady Limora said, kneeling beside me now, her violet eyes wide. “Can you hear me?”

I nodded slowly.

Vivienne leaned in. “What happened inside that path?”

The words still wouldn’t come. I looked up at Keegan, who was watching me with that quiet intensity he always wore when he was afraid to speak first. Like I was a dream that might vanish if disturbed.

“I didn’t choose,” I rasped, my voice low, raw. “I couldn’t. So I didn’t.”

Opal’s brows pulled together. “You didn’t choose what? ”

I took a shaky breath. “The path…it gave me options. Fractured versions of myself. People I love. Futures I could follow.”

Limora’s lips parted. “That’s… normal, to a degree. But not like what we saw. Not what we felt. Maeve, that wasn’t a path. That was—” she stopped herself, looking at Vivienne and Opal as if silently asking for consensus. “—it was a convergence.”

Vivienne stood slowly. “I’ve only ever read about one. Once. A theory. That if a witch of certain blood walked through a path while being pulled by multiple futures with equal power, the path wouldn’t close.”

“It would collapse, ” Opal finished quietly.

“Not collapse,” Limora corrected. “Transform.”

They all looked at me.

Keegan still held me, but I could feel the tension in his frame. He didn’t interrupt.

“What did you do? ” Vivienne asked, not accusing, not fearful—just stunned.

I tried to sit up straighter, and Keegan braced me. The morning sun stretched long across the grass, but it felt like no time had passed at all.

“I wanted them all,” I said finally. “My daughter. Keegan. The answers I didn’t want to want from Gideon. The Academy’s future. I refused to choose just one. And something listened.”

Lady Limora’s lips tightened. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

“More like it’s impossible,” Opal argued.

“But it was,” Keegan said quietly. “I saw it. The path lit up like a storm. It shook the whole ward.”

“It reached through the veil,” Vivienne murmured.

“It wasn’t a spell. It was something older,” Opal said.

They all fell quiet.

Keegan glanced down at me, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand. “You’ve changed.”

I blinked up at him. “You can tell?”

He gave a humorless laugh. “You’re humming. Your body.”

He wasn’t wrong.

I could feel it, even now.

A soft thrum beneath my skin. Not magic in the way I’d known it. Not the prickling warmth of a cast spell or the tightness of a shield raised too quickly. No, this was different. It was as if ley lines had crawled into my bones and refused to leave.

Limora rose and stepped back, brushing grass from her dark cloak. “You shouldn’t be standing. You need to rest.”

But I was standing.

I realized it as I placed one hand against the stone wall and pushed to my feet. Keegan moved to help, but I steadied myself.

“I need to be in the Academy,” I said, my voice stronger now. “I need to know it’s still there.”

Opal nodded. “It is. But something’s changed.”

“Because I didn’t come back as who I was,” I said softly.

I looked around the garden, at the paths still dew-drenched and sunlit, at the shimmer still faint in the air like residue.

The calling path had closed, but I hadn’t.

And that was the difference. I felt open to possibilities.

The moment we rounded the corner past the Butterfly Ward, the energy of the Academy wrapped around me like a shawl I hadn’t realized I’d missed until it slid across my shoulders.

It wasn’t just magic. It was life.

The air sparkled faintly with morning spells.

Laughter echoed from the exterior steps as students headed toward their first classes.

A cluster of book sprites zipped overhead, one of them dragging a satchel of wayward scrolls behind it with great indignation.

The aroma of something warm and sweet drifted through the corridor—cinnamon, cloves, and a little too much nutmeg.

I didn’t realize how much I’d needed this familiarity until I saw it again.

And then I saw him.

Twobble.

He stood just outside the entrance, dressed in his usual layers of too-large fabric, sparse hair wind-tossed, and an apple pinched between two fingers as if he were deciding whether it was food or ammunition.

The second his eyes landed on me, he froze mid-bite.

Then he bolted.

“Maeve!” he cried, the apple tumbling to the floor and forgotten entirely. “Oh, shimmering stars and sideways socks—you’re back! ”

Before I could say anything, he launched himself toward me and skidded to a stop inches from my boots. His eyes widened.

His head tilted.

He blinked once, slowly.

Then whispered, “Oh.”

Keegan stood at my side, brows drawn. “What’s the oh for?”

Twobble didn’t answer him.

He didn’t even look at him.

Instead, he stepped forward and placed his small, warm hand against my arm, eyes searching my face like he could read the tremble behind my eyes and the shimmer that still clung to my skin.

“You didn’t just come back,” he said softly. “You brought it back with you. ”

I swallowed. “Twobble—”

“No, no, no.” He shook his head, waving his hand in a frantic circle. “Don’t speak yet. Don’t dilute it with words. I need to feel it.”

Keegan shifted beside me, crossing his arms. “Does someone want to explain this cryptic goblin nonsense to me?”

Twobble waved vaguely in his direction. “Gargoyle’s boyfriend. Shush. The grown-ups are talking.”

Keegan gave me a look that might’ve been annoyance or reluctant amusement.

Twobble sniffed and stepped back. He stared at me again, but this time his sharp eyes softened. “You walked through something most would break beneath. And yet you’ve… stretched. Expanded. Your edges moved, Maeve.”

I blinked. “My edges? ”

He nodded solemnly. “Your soul doesn’t end where it used to. It ripples now. Not dangerous. But… deep.”

Keegan muttered, “Still cryptic.”

I touched Twobble’s shoulder. “You’re not wrong.”

The Academy doors opened behind us, and the soft buzz of mid-morning filled the space.

Students passed by with notebooks and armfuls of floating teacups.

One of the fae twins had enchanted a scarf to act as a hovering assistant, which promptly smacked into the back of someone’s head before veering off with a guilty flutter.

“Come on,” Twobble said, motioning for us to walk. “Let’s get you inside before the shimmer tries to whisper any last riddles into your ears.”

I let him take my arm as Keegan followed a step behind.

Inside, the halls had come fully to life.

Voices, spells, laughter, and the faint scent of charmed toast drifting from the dining hall. Ardetia’s students marched past in lines far too coordinated for their usual chaos, and Nova was barking something about misplaced stars again.

The vampire ladies, Lady Limora, Mara, Opal, and Vivienne, peeled away from us with regal nods, their arms full of thick spellbooks and class scrolls. I caught a glance between Limora and Vivienne as they parted, and it wasn’t just concern anymore.

It was reverence.

“Going to class?” I called after them, my voice still raw.

“Of course,” Opal said brightly, smoothing her braid. “Can’t let the fae keep all the fun for themselves.”

“And don’t you think for a second we won’t pester you with questions at lunch,” Vivienne added, already moving with the others toward the spiral stairs.

Keegan hesitated beside me.

I knew that look.

Duty pulling at him, even as worry rooted him in place.

“You should go,” I said softly. “Your students are probably already getting antsy.”

He gave me a long look. “You’ll be okay?”

I nodded. “Twobble’s got me.”

Twobble puffed his chest. “Like old boots and good gossip. Sturdy and always ready.”

Keegan hesitated, then leaned in close, lowering his voice so only I could hear. “You’ll tell me everything?”

“Eventually,” I murmured, touching his hand briefly. “But first… I need to figure out what everything is . ”

His gaze lingered, then he nodded once and turned, striding down the corridor toward his class.

Twobble waited until Keegan was out of earshot before letting out a dramatic sigh. “Honestly, how do you get anything done with that man constantly smoldering near you?”

I laughed, the sound catching me off guard.

“I’ve missed you,” I said.

“And I,” he said more gently, “have felt you missing.”

He guided me down the corridor toward the kitchen, where warmth radiated from the swinging doors and the scent of vanilla and warm sugar wrapped around us like a welcoming spell.

“I was heading to Stella’s culinary magic class,” he said, still keeping a close eye on me. “We’re working on emotionally reactive pastries today. My soufflé yells insults if you don’t give it a compliment every three minutes.”

“Sounds about right,” I said.

He paused at the door but didn’t let go of my arm.

“But,” he said, “I’ll skip it for you. Because something inside you is buzzing, and I don’t mean shimmer residue. You saw something on that path. Didn’t you?”

I hesitated.

He waited.

“Not something,” I whispered. “ Everything. ”