Page 121 of Magical Moonbeam

My breath caught because it wasn’t entirely wrong. I had held so tightly to everything—my daughter, my grief, my second chances. I’d built walls to protect others but also to protect myself.

“Maybe,” I said again. “But I’m trying to learn. To do better.”

Gideon’s smile vanished.

“I tried to do better,” he said. “And every time, they pushed me back. They called me power-hungry. They mocked the magic I found beyond their precious Wards. They didn’t see what I was trying to build, but Shadowick always understood.”

He looked at the fog around us.

“So I broke it. I broke the old rules. I gave the Veil a reason to open that one fine day, when your dad learned to bark and your boyfriend learned to shift when I tell him to.”

“You didn’t just open it,” I said, voice shaking, “you hurt people. Families. You shattered what they loved. You fractured ties between magical folk. Shifters and fae no longer joined hands. Magic became an impossibility.”

“I freed them,” he said, almost gently. “They just don’t see it yet.”

“No,” I said. “You caged them in shadows.”

His jaw tensed.

“They don’t belong in the dark,” I said. “And neither do you.”

He stared at me as if waiting to see if I meant it. As if waiting to be proven wrong.

“So, you think because fae and shifters have reunited in Stonewick that you have the power to save me.”

“I’m not here to save you,” I added, voice firm. “But I am here to end this.”

A flicker of something passed through his gaze. It wasn’t fear or anger but resolve.

“You won’t survive what’s coming,” he said, low and steady. “You think your friends can shield you? That your fire-forged spells and Hedge tricks will keep you whole?”

“I don’t need to be whole,” I whispered. “I just need to be willing to see the truth.”

He studied me.

Then nodded once.

And behind him, the mansion shuddered, as if it too had been listening.

The first echo of the Moonbeam’s full light spilled across the rooftops like spilled silver.

And I knew the time for words was nearly over.

I kept my breath steady, even as the moon’s glow deepened. It moved like a tide, spilling down the crooked streets and stone-walled alleys of Shadowick with eerie grace. Each corner shimmered faintly, not with warmth, but with something old and waiting. A pulsing hush had settled, pressing into my ears like cotton.

I could feel them.

My friends. My allies. Each one tucked into their hiding places like pieces on a chessboard, waiting for the queen’s move.

Keegan’s presence tugged against my heart—solid, protective, so close and yet unseen. Somewhere, he was guarding my father, keeping Frank safe, probably with that familiar tightness in his jaw when things veered toward danger.

Ardetia’s magic hummed faintly through the Veil like a harp string just out of reach. Stella’s particular flavor of focus, sharp, amused, and waiting for an excuse to cause mischief, skipped along the edge of my consciousness like a whisper of cloves and rosewood.

But they were growing restless.

The longer I held Gideon’s attention, the more I could feel their anxiety building like a static charge. And the more I felt it, the more afraid I became, not for myself, but for the plan. For the precision we needed.

Don’t move, I thought. Not yet.