Page 161 of Magical Moonbeam

I looked at the line of students waiting near the Academy’s windows.

And she was right.

It wasn’t just about sealing Wards and chasing shadows anymore.

It was about building a future those students believed in, and I turned toward them.

Toward the place where it all began.

Toward the place where we’d make our stand.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The Academy rose like a memory from a dream—too grand, too full of promise, and far too fragile for what was coming.

Its towers shimmered in the moonlight, ivy cascading over archways like it belonged there more than we did. The massive front doors, etched in ancient sigils and glowing faintly with protective wards, waited at the top of the stone steps. They’d held for decades against time, silence, and sorrow.

And I wondered if it held regret.

For letting me in, for attempting to lead when I still needed to be led.

Keegan brushed my hand as we stepped forward. Celeste followed, quiet and watchful. Twobble muttered something about the Wards making his hair feel frizzy. Skonk zipped ahead, scanning the rooftops.

I placed my palm on the doors, and they opened with a slow, resonant creak.

The warmth of the foyer hit me like a soft blanket, but even that couldn’t mask the tension in the air. Dozens of students were gathered in tight clusters, their voices hushed and theirexpressions somber. The sconces glowed a little dimmer than usual.

Near the grand staircase stood Grandma Elira.

She was talking to someone, her hands moving with that graceful precision she always used when trying not to alarm anyone. But the moment she saw me, she turned, crossing the room like the marble floor was on fire beneath her feet.

“You felt it,” I said before she could speak.

She nodded. “Just recently. A shift.”

“What kind?”

She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I don’t know. It’s like the magic inside the Academy flinched.”

“Flinched?”

“Yes.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “As if something walked over its soul.”

A chill ran down my spine.

The crowd stirred again as three students broke away from the others and rushed over. Vivienne and Opal stood in front of me quietly.

“Maeve,” Vivienne panted. “Something’s wrong.”

“With the Maple Ward?” I asked, knowing that was where they last were.

“Stella is there now with Mara. Things seem okay there.”

“But we’ve been checking the wings,” Opal added. “The West Wing’s fine. The Sun Chapel’s quiet. Even the storage rooms near the library alcove seem untouched.”

“But there’s a coldness,” Mara said. “In the floors. In the mirrors. We can't find the source.”

I turned toward the stairwell, where soft light played along the balustrades. Nothing looked out of place. And that was the problem.