Page 50 of Magical Moonbeam

Just as I had to be.

I stepped into the open space at the curve of the alley. The air felt different here…thicker and charged. The wind didn’t blow so much as breathe, exhaling from doorways and gutters like the village itself was waiting.

I pulled my cloak tighter, the charm still in my hand, and let the silence press in.

Let him find me.

Let the next step begin.

The cobblestones beneath my boots were slick with fog, the kind that clung rather than rolled, crawling along the edges of buildings and collecting in the crooks of doorways like waiting shadows.

My fingers brushed the stone walls as I walked, tracing the lines of the illusion-made village as though it might whisper secrets back to me. I silently counted stones, memorized details like the gold chain hanging from a nondescript door.

This place, Shadowick, even conjured, felt far too real.

It was colder here, and it didn’t come from wind or weather, but from something older and hollow. It was as if the buildings remembered what they once were and resented being brought back.

Still, I moved forward.

Keegan followed a step behind, silent but close enough that I could hear his breath, steady, slightly quickened. He didn’t like this plan, but he hadn’t stopped me either. That said something.

The others were scattered in shadows, waiting. Watching.

And me?

I was trying to hold on to the thread of why I thought this might work.

“If I can get to his soul,” I said softly, “maybe I can understand why he did it.”

Keegan didn’t respond immediately.

I kept walking, letting my voice follow the rhythm of my steps.

“If I can understand why he cursed my father and Keegan. Why he wants Stonewick? Why he’s pulling at the edge of the Veil like it’s a thread he means to unravel, then maybe I can end it.”

At that, Keegan stiffened. The air shifted.

“That’s not how Gideon works,” he said, his voice low, the edge sharp. “He doesn’thavea why that makes sense to people like you.”

I stopped and turned to face him.

“He wasn’t born evil.”

“No,” Keegan said tightly. “But hechoseto become it.”

The words landed heavily between us.

I looked away, my gaze drifting toward the conjured horizon, where a crooked steeple leaned against the sky like it had forgotten how to pray. I looked back toward the rise and saw theimposing mansion full of darkness and lingering shadows. It was in direct contrast to my cozy little cottage in Stonewick.

“I’m not saying I want to excuse him,” I said. “But what if there’s something broken I can reach? Just one piece of truth I can pull forward and use to bind him back?”

Keegan’s eyes narrowed. “You think that’s all it takes? One good memory? One thread of guilt?”

“I think it’s more than we have now,” I said. “I think understanding him might be the only real weapon we have.”

A rustle behind us made me turn, expecting Nova or Ember, but it was Stella.

She moved with her usual grace, her dark shawl wrapped high around her shoulders, her boots making no sound at all on the cold stone. She sipped from a bone-white mug that definitely hadn’t come from Shadowick, steam curling from it like incense.