Page 116 of Magical Moonbeam

A sound broke my spiraling thoughts, a gentle pop of magic to my left. I turned to see two midlife students standing in oneof the side chambers, their fingers outstretched as a web of tiny golden lights sparked between them.

“I told you it wasn’t in the wrist,” one of them laughed.

“No, you told me tovisualize the spell like I was spreading marmalade on a scone.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

Their laughter followed me down the hall, and I caught a few more glimpses of others as I walked. Two women practiced protective sigils on the walls of the herbarium, and a group sitting cross-legged near the eastern staircase exchanged stories of the first time their magic showed up again after years of dormancy. The joy was subtle, but potent.

They weren’t just surviving here.

They were blooming.

It was hard not to feel that energy seep into my bones. Despite the fear riding shotgun in my chest, there was something steadier beneath it now. A hum. A purpose.

My boots clicked down the steps as I headed toward the front hall, the sound strangely grounding. I’d told myself that when the time came, I would feel it. Some kind of shift. Some knowing. And maybe Ihadfelt it. Maybe the tremor beneath my ribs and the weight behind every breath was the Moonbeam pressing in already. Calling me forward.

I paused near the entryway, staring through the open door toward the rolling garden path.

The others were already gathering. I could feel it like a thread pulling taut in my chest.

So I stepped outside, knowing it was time. There was no dramatic call or shuddering of the earth.

I just knew in my bones that it was the moment.

The scent of wild herbs and flowering vines curled in the air, and down the path, just beyond the cemetery gates, I saw them.

And that was when I wondered, would this be the last time I smelled the sweetness of the air or witnessed my friends smiling?

I shook the thought away and trudged forward.

Skonk was draped over a headstone, as if posing for a moody portrait. Twobble paced in tight circles, muttering to himself and flinging tiny bits of chalk at a nearby vine that dared creep too close. Bella, already in her fox form, trotted once in a lazy loop and then shifted back to human as if it were nothing at all.

Ardetia stood poised and silent, with her hands clasped behind her back, wings tucked and iridescent in the filtered light. She didn’t move, but when she sensed me, her gaze shifted just slightly. There was no fear in her face, just intent.

Stella was dressed like she’d wandered straight out of a gothic fairytale, her cane tapping lightly as she scolded Skonk with a sharp look and a smirk.

“Donotperch on gravestones. You’re attracting ghosts, darling.”

Nova and Lady Limora stood near the boundary line, whispering in low tones. Nova had her deck clutched in one hand, her gaze drifting skyward every few moments as if trying to read the clouds like parchment.

Vivenne, Mara, and Opal stood near the cemetery’s wrought-iron gate, their hands linked briefly in a moment of shared grounding. Whatever had brought them here, they were committed now.

And Keegan—

He was the last one I noticed, leaning against the old mausoleum wall, arms crossed, eyes already on me.

Something in me went quiet when he looked at me like that. It was like my storm of emotions couldn’t wait until after this next breath, so I looked away briefly and gained better control.

I joined them, my feet crunching over the gravel. No one spoke right away, but the hush was different than the one inside the Academy. This silence hummed. It brimmed.

“We’ll follow your lead,” Nova said finally, her voice soft but certain.

I nodded, swallowing the knot forming at the base of my throat.

“We step through the Veil of the Moonbeam and into Shadowick,” I said, glancing toward the streak of light from the moon. “We remember our steps. We hold our spells close. And I make myself seen.”

“You sure about that?” Keegan asked, his voice low beside me.