Page 48 of Magical Moonbeam

“Then it’s more than illusion,” Keegan said, his voice behind me calm but edged with something deeper. “It’s echo.”

Ember dashed by in a blur, chased by three laughing sprites and a trail of swirling sigils she’d accidentally set off. Skonk cursed as one of them flew into his ear, and Twobble nearly fell from his perch from laughing.

Chaos buzzed on the edges of awe, and yet, in the heart of it all, I felt something take root.

Fear, yes.

But also purpose.

This was no longer a rehearsal.

It was memory woven into spellwork. It was magic listening to the quiet places of my mind and shaping them into stone and shadow of Skonk’s experience.

And that meant when we stepped through the Veil… we might actually stand a chance.

Chapter Twelve

The Veil shimmered like a heat mirage as we stepped through the final ring of boundary stones. What had been mere illusion minutes ago now carried weight, sound, temperature, and memory.

Shadowick.

The fog greeted us like a breath held too long, low and heavy, clinging to the ground, snaking up along walls, lampposts, and the illusion-built edges of crooked rooftops. It draped over anything upright like shawls of mourning, soft but suffocating.

The moment my boots hit the uneven cobblestones, a weight settled across my chest that was cold and familiar.

I’d been here before in dreams, in flickers through the Hedge, but this was different. This wasn’t a glimpse.

This was a crossing.

Behind me, Keegan’s presence was immediate and grounding.

One hand rested near his hip, where a short blade hung. He’d been wearing it more frequently.

The others filed in slowly, their laughter from earlier already gone. Even Skonk was quiet.

The sky above this conjured world pulsed an indigo-gray, streaked with faint hints of rust-red. No stars. No sun.

“This is incredible,” Ember whispered beside me. “It shouldn’t feel this… real.”

“It’s because it is,” I said softly. “Or close enough that it doesn’t matter.”

We moved through the narrow streets in a silent line, passing buildings with tilted signs and shuttered windows. A faded cafe was on the corner. Its menu was still chalked in a language I didn’t recognize. A twisted clock tower ticked slightly out of rhythm. Everything bore the tarnish of time, but not decay. It was as if Shadowick had paused mid-story and forgotten how to begin again.

The village was a place where those who walked among shadows could walk right into, but those of us who believed in the light stuck out, and we needed the protection of the Moonbeam, or so I hoped.

“Stick to the path,” Keegan muttered to the group. “Watch the doorways. Some aren’t just decoration.”

Nova nearly floated to my left, her bare feet somehow untouched by the damp chill. Her eyes, always steady, flicked across rooftops and alleys with eerie precision.

“Any landmarks we should explore for a signal?” Bella asked, still in her human form, though her eyes gleamed like a fox’s in the den.

I nodded toward a narrow alley that bent like a question mark between two squat buildings. “There. That’s where I’ll wait.”

Nova tilted her head. “That’s too exposed.”

“I know,” I said. “That’s the point.”

Keegan stopped walking.