Page 192 of Magical Moonbeam

Keegan was a few feet away, his knuckles bruised and raw, his chest still rising in uneven pulls. He hadn’t said much since the fight ended. Didn’t need to. The set of his jaw, the way he watched me, like he was trying to memorize every breath I took, spoke more than words ever could.

Stella leaned against a broken column, her wand limp in her hand, her curls wild and rimmed with light from a fire spell she hadn’t bothered to extinguish. She’d protected this placewith everything she had, and it showed. Her eyes met mine, and she gave the faintest nod. Not a smile, just an acknowledgment that we were still standing. Somehow.

Nova sat cross-legged on a cracked section of floor, her staff across her lap, sweat glistening down her temple. Her eyes were closed, lips moving silently in prayer or spellwork. I didn’t know which. She looked peaceful, in that dangerous way stars do when they’re about to go supernova.

And then there were Skonk and Twobble.

Skonk was twirling above Stella’s head, humming something that sounded suspiciously like a victory song. Twobble was chewing on what looked like a very old licorice root, grinning like he’d just won a bet with the moon itself.

It was everything I had ever wanted.

And yet…

I felt it.

A sudden hollowness.

Not in the room.

Not even in the magic.

In the sky.

I turned slowly, heart sinking.

The Moonbeam was gone.

Not fading. Not drifting.

Gone.

The last shimmer had vanished while we were caught in the chaos. The window high above the corridor was dark now, its frame no longer touched by silver. No threads of light. No gentlehum. Just the absence of something we had counted on to fix everything.

I swallowed hard.

It hadn’t worked. Not completely.

We had changed something, yes. My father’s curse was broken, his body returned, his soul anchored.

But what was traded in its place? What unknown sacrifice was surrendered?

The tarot card warmed in my pocket, and my world stopped as the sacrifice became clear.

The weight of the curse still pressed on the Academy like storm clouds that refused to break.

I couldn’t feel the other Wards as lively as earlier.

But worst of all, I couldn’t feel whether Keegan’s curse had been severed. Had his broke as well as my dad’s?

Keegan hadn’t said anything. Not about the curse. Not about the mark he’d carried like a brand, every ten years facing an uncontrolled shift that weakened him more each time.

My eyes found him again.

He was watching me…had been, I think, the whole time. His expression was unreadable, like he was keeping a secret he didn’t want to name. There was something hollow in the way he held his arms at his sides, something… unfinished.

He stood only a few feet away, half in shadow. His arms were crossed over his chest, but the tension in his shoulders wasn’t just from battle or exhaustion. It was something else. His jaw was clenched too tightly. His brow furrowed, though his eyes were fixed on me.

Not my father.Me.