Page 53

Saying goodbye to Skye was bittersweet. She’d lent me the bit of normalcy I crave, a taste of my old life. But I craved my new one even more, especially with Celeste forging a new life for herself as well.

I’d done my best at calming my fears and overactive imagination. Her boyfriend was a mundane. She would be safe, and it was better she’d left before I stumbled onto Krina and Mys.

The morning air was unnaturally still.

Sunday in Stonewick was usually slow and soft, bakeries opening late, students slipping into slippers instead of boots, the scent of tea and toasted honeyed bread floating through the halls of the Academy like a blessing. But today, the quiet held a different weight.

I stood just inside the front archway, flanked by Stella, Nova, Keegan, Ember, Twobble, and Frank, who padded in ahead of us with ears high and posture stiff. The light filtering through the windows was pale and clear, but something in the walls felt off. Too tense. Too still .

“Alright,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “we fan out and sweep every corner, interior and exterior. No assumptions. No shortcuts.”

Keegan gave a crisp nod and moved toward the west wing while Ember headed for the staircase, spellboard already glowing in her hands.

Nova disappeared down the back corridor, eyes watchful, while Stella began gently checking the hallways, murmuring protective blessings as she passed each door.

Twobble pulled out a crystal he insisted helped him “sniff out bad vibes” and marched toward the library with my dad huffing behind him.

I stood still for a moment longer, listening. The Academy murmured in its usual way, walls shifting softly, windowpanes warming, but underneath, something coiled. Faint. Waiting.

It wasn’t until I reached the central garden that I felt it—the trace. Barely there. A whisper of something cold, threading through the herbs like a second wind. It wasn’t strong enough to trigger the wards, not powerful enough to shape into a presence. But it lingered.

A warning.

But nothing more.

By midmorning, we had regrouped in the main hall. The others reported similar findings: residual traces. A chill in an unused classroom. A flicker of movement in a mirror that didn’t reflect anyone real. Nothing solid. Nothing permanent.

But that was exactly what made it more dangerous.

The students had started to gather by then, drawn in by the shift in energy, or maybe just the quiet tension in our footsteps. I didn’t summon them formally. They came on their own, sensing that something unspoken had begun.

I stepped forward, hands clasped in front of me as the students filled the grand foyer, many of them in slippers and sweaters, teacups still steaming in their hands. They looked around at one another, then at me.

I waited until the room settled. Until even the floor stopped creaking beneath our weight.

“I wish this were just a routine check,” I said gently. “I wish I could tell you there was nothing to worry about. But I made a promise when we reopened this place that we would face the truth, not comfort. So here it is.”

A hush fell deeper over the room. One of the young students shifted closer to Lady Limora, who placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

“As many of you know, since the curse fell upon the Academy and the town of Stonewick, a quiet battle has been brewing between us and a place called Shadowick. And at the center of that darkness is a man named Gideon.”

I paused, scanning the room.

“Most of you have heard whispers. Some of you have seen glimpses of shadow magic, flickering mirrors, and strange distortions near the warded edges of our grounds. Until now, they’ve all been distant.”

My throat tightened, but I kept my voice steady.

“This week, for the first time, two of our students invited a shadow from Shadowick onto Academy grounds.”

The room shifted. Not gasping. Not outrage. But the stillness that comes with slow realization.

“It’s uncertain whether it was a spy,” I continued, “or an extension of Gideon himself. What we do know is that it wasn’t a full form. It was an essence. A thread. Something subtle enough to slip through without triggering the full wards. That’s why it’s taken this long to find it.”

Twobble crossed his arms and grumbled loudly from his corner. “Sneaky little twizzlers. Should’ve sniffed them out the second they got cozy with shadows.”

Some nervous laughter rippled through the students, but it died quickly.

“We’re investigating,” I said firmly. “The students who brought it in have fled. That tells us something in itself. But it also means we must remain vigilant. Because no matter how kind our intentions or open our hearts, we’re still building something fragile. Something new.”

My dad gave a soft bark beside me, his eyes scanning the gathered crowd.

“I want you to hear this part clearly,” I said, stepping closer. “No one here is to blame for what happened. We will not fall into suspicion or fear. That’s not who we are.”

Eyes lifted toward me, worried, watchful, young, and ancient.

“We are a place of second chances. Of magic and midlife and mystery. And yes, danger too. But also love. Healing. And strength.”

The sun shifted, spilling across the floor in wide streaks that touched the old sigils in the stone.

“So we move forward. Together. We seal the Wards. We strengthen our protections. And we keep our eyes open, not just for danger, but for each other.”

I glanced toward Nova, who gave me the faintest nod. Stella’s gaze was steady. Ember’s crackled with power. Keegan hadn’t moved from my side.

“And in doing so, we protect not just this Academy, but what it represents. A place where we grow, transform, and remember who we really are.”

There was a long pause, then the smallest voice from the back of the room asked, “What if the shadow comes back?”

I turned to the speaker, one of the newer students, her robe slightly too big, her hair tied in a nervous braid.

“Then we meet it at the gates,” I said. “Together.”

That, finally, settled something in the room. A breath released. A grounding.

They believed me.

They believed in this.

I stepped back, letting the others speak, letting questions bubble up. But in my mind, the images hadn’t faded. Krina’s face turned just enough to see the decision in her eyes, Mys’s too-sure stance, and the shadow twisting between them.

We were not safe yet.

But we were strong.

And I would make sure we stayed that way.

The crowd had begun to settle after my announcement. A low hum of whispered speculation stirred among students like wind through leaves, curious, wary, but calm enough that I began to believe the truth had fallen into the right hands. They weren’t afraid. They were aware.

And then Lady Limora stepped forward.

Her presence always cut through a room, not with volume or flash, but with the poise of someone who had lived through centuries and collected secrets like ribbon-wrapped letters.

Her deep violet cloak pooled around her boots, and her silver hair shimmered faintly in the filtered light streaming from the Academy’s arching windows.

She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to.

“It makes sense,” she said, her voice soft but resonant. “The night of Moonbeam is nearly upon us.”

The shift in the room was instantaneous.

Students stilled.

The faculty who had gathered along the back wall looked at each other. Nova’s eyebrows lifted just enough for me to see the flicker of surprise. Ember’s jaw tensed.

But my body had gone entirely still.

Moonbeam.

My heart thudded once, hard.

I hadn’t heard that word spoken aloud, only seen it in pages, tucked into the edges of the Academy’s most arcane tomes. A once-a-decade celestial event so deeply tied to the ancient magic of our world that even the Academy itself went quiet for days before and after its arrival.

But I hadn’t connected the calendar. I’d been too preoccupied. The Wards, the shadows, Celeste, Krina, and Mys—

And now Lady Limora was saying the words I hadn’t dared think.

I took a careful step forward. “Are you certain?”

Lady Limora turned her gaze on me. “The signs are here. The wind changes. The crystal pools have begun to ripple even when still. The vines at the edge of the eastern wall are blooming out of season. The old magics are stirring.”

Stella stepped closer beside me. “I saw the herbs flowering too. The marigolds never open this early, unless they’re in the Butterfly Ward.”

Nova gave a soft nod. “I felt it last night. A pull in the air. Like everything is waiting.”

Ember’s fingers twitched at her side, already mapping calculations in her mind.

And I—my chest was tight.

Because I remembered.

I remembered what the Moonbeam event meant.

It wasn’t just a natural occurrence. It was a thinning.

A weakening of the barriers between realms, realms like Shadowick and ours.

The first crack in the Academy’s protective veil had formed a century ago on a Moonbeam. Gideon had cast his curse on Moonbeam.

And this time, I was headmistress.

This time, I had a role to play.

Keegan stepped to my side. “Maeve?”

I met his gaze, the air around me buzzing.

“It’s not just the shadow we found,” I said. “It’s when we found it. The veil is thinning. And the closer we get to the Moonbeam, the easier it will be for shadow magic to slip through.”

Lady Limora nodded. “Gideon knows this.”

My stomach twisted. “Of course he does.”

Because, of course, he would time it this way. Of course, he would send an essence, a whisper, just ahead of the convergence. He was testing the boundaries. Seeing how close he could get before we noticed.

And I had let it happen under my watch.

“I need to go to Shadowick,” I said aloud, my voice firmer than I expected. “On the eve of the Moonbeam.”

The murmurs rose again, higher this time.

Nova stiffened. “Maeve—”

“I don’t think I have a choice,” I said. “If we wait, he’ll come here. If we act after, it will be too late. But the eve of Moonbeam... the door opens.”

Keegan’s expression darkened. “And it could close behind you.”

“I know.”

Stella looked at me, eyes wide with worry. “Maeve, you just—”

“I know. ” My voice cracked, then softened. “But this isn’t going away. It’s building. And this time, it won’t be satisfied with slipping in around the edges. It wants in. Fully. It wants to unravel everything we’ve rebuilt, and we’ve barely just started.”

Lady Limora stepped forward again. “If you’re going into Shadowick, you must prepare accordingly. The Moonbeam doesn’t just weaken the veil. It empowers intention. You’ll be seen clearly. And judged.”

The word judged struck something low in my ribs.

“What does that mean?” Twobble muttered under his breath. “Sounds like a trial I didn’t sign up for.”

I met Lady Limora’s gaze again. “I’ll prepare.”

She nodded once. “We’ll help you.”

The others closed in around me—my circle, my shield. Nova. Ember. Stella. Keegan. Bella. Ardetia. Frank. Even Twobble, muttering complaints and dragging a chalkboard toward the map.

I turned back to the students, to the faces watching me with wide eyes, trust held tight in their hands.

“The Moonbeam is coming,” I said softly. “We can’t stop it. But we can meet it. We can prepare. And we will be ready.”

And this time, I wouldn’t let the light falter.

But our Academy’s mission had become clear, and I couldn’t wait to write it in the textbook.

The Academy exists to cultivate fearless magic rooted in love, light, and lived experience.

We honor bravery not as the absence of fear, but as the choice to rise through it.

Our purpose is to guide new discoveries with wisdom, wonder, and a devotion to truth.

In all things, we stand firmly on the side of good, lighting the way against shadows.

For even the hardest paths are not punishments, but invitations and divine reminders that the strongest souls are called not to ease, but to rise into their greatness.

And I was ready to step into Shadowick and end the cruelty once and for all. Unlike Gideon, I was done hiding in the shadows, and I welcomed the Moonbeam.