Page 28 of Magical Moonbeam

He waited.

“I need you to be honest.”

“Oh no,” he said, blinking. “That’s never how good stories begin.”

“I’m serious.”

“Okay, okay.” He set the biscuit down and scooted a little closer. “Lay it on me, Boss Witch.”

“When you were in Shadowick,” I said slowly, “do you remember the layout? Any specific buildings? Landmarks? Places someone might be able to hide? Or find cover?”

Twobble’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“I just… I need to know. If we do this, if we cross over, I want to be ready. I wantoptions.I need to know where we might be safe.”

He stared at me for a long moment. Then he nodded and pulled his knees to his chest, eyes narrowing in thought.

“There’s not much that’s safe,” he began. “But I remember a few things. There was a tower on the north side of the village, bent like a crooked finger. It used to be a watchpost, I think, before everything turned sour. It’s mostly hollow now. Nothing lives in it, far as I could tell. Too open for shadow-creeps to nest.”

“Could it offer cover?”

He nodded. “Maybe. It’s on the rise, so you can see part of the main street. And it’s stone, thick and old. Feels… less corrupted, I guess.”

I nodded, filing it away.

“There’s also the old well in the center of town. Doesn’t go anywhere, but it’s protected. I don’t knowwhyor how. I just know it buzzed when I got close. Made my teeth vibrate.”

“Warded by whom?”

He shrugged. “Not Gideon. Felt older. Wilder. Could be fae. Could be something that didn’t want him taking everything. It could be Shadowick itself.”

Interesting.

“And there’s an alley,” Twobble added, his voice quieter now. “It’s narrow. Twists wrong. It tries to hide from the buildings around it. I ended up there by accident. Felt like it swallowed sound.”

“Safe?”

“Not safe. But hidden.”

We sat there for a long moment, the fire low, the room still.

“Why do you want to know all this now?” he asked softly.

I looked at him.

Because Gideon had said that he’d see me soon.

Because part of me knew he meant it.

“Because if I’m going into his world,” I whispered, “I want to know how to survive it. We all need to come out together.”

Twobble nodded, solemn and small.

And for once, he didn’t joke.

He just sat beside me in the quiet, biscuit forgotten, while the first light of dawn bled through the window.

After several minutes, he sighed and blinked at me. “Well. That escalated.”