Page 78 of Magical Moonbeam

He gave me a look. “The one with me, Bellemore.”

“Oh, right. That one.”

“You’re infuriating.”

I shrugged. “You’re broody.”

“You like it.”

I smiled. “Maybe.”

He tugged my hand the rest of the way into his, and I let him.

Moonbeam’s Eve might be two days away, and Gideon might be watching from the edges of every spell I cast, but for this moment, in this quiet stretch of path beside the man who had become something I didn’t yet know how to name, I felt steady.

“If I hear that you’re not back by morning, I’m going in after you,” he said, letting my hand go.

“I would expect nothing less.”

His eyes stayed on mine for a beat longer than necessary, and I felt that flutter before taking a deep breath.

“Thanks, Keegan.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “For everything.”

“Always and forever,” he said quietly and turned to head back to his hotel.

And maybe that was all I needed to walk back into Shadowick.

I remembered the first time I saw Stonewick and how strange and whimsical the little town had seemed.

Now it was simply home.

Or maybe it was something more complicated. A refuge. A weight. A turning point.

But I wouldn’t let Shadowick destroy it.

I should’ve gone back to the Academy and brewed some tea, curled up with my dad, probably still snoring and loyal by the hearth, and tried to chase some sleep. I could’ve rested. I probablyshould’verested.

But my feet didn’t agree.

They carried me down the side path that twisted me through the Butterfly Ward, along the Academy, and toward the old graveyard.

I knew better now. I knew how much of Stonewick’s magic curled close to forgotten places, and I’d even helped bring some of that magic back.

Still, I hesitated.

Beyond it, the illusion waited. The Shadowick recreation we’d conjured as a practice ground, an eerily accurate twin to thetown none of us fully trusted. It wasn’t real, not exactly. But it was enough to give me chills.

Fog laced itself through the gravestones like it belonged, clinging low and damp to the earth. My boots crunched against old moss and scattered leaves as I crossed to the place where the illusion was anchored. The very air shifted there, like dipping a toe into a dream. One step and one breath in, and I was somewhere else.

Shadowick.

Or close enough to it.

The chill was immediate, not just in temperature, but in memory as well. My body tensed before I’d even taken a step. I’d stood here before. In the Hedge. In my dreams. In visions, I still didn’t understand.

I adjusted my cloak tighter around my shoulders and pressed forward.

The streets were dark and dissolved in fog. Lamps flickered with sour yellow light, barely illuminating the uneven cobblestones. The buildings leaned at odd angles, with windows too narrow and doors set just slightly off-center. Like someone had drawn a perfect replica from memory, but something inside them had been warped.