Page 32

The moment we reached the courtyard, I knew something was wrong.

Nova stood just beyond the Butterfly Ward’s archway, her arms folded tight across her chest, her expression taut with something that looked dangerously close to fear.

Lady Limora hovered beside her, pale as frost and unusually quiet.

They weren’t talking. They weren’t doing anything, in fact, except watching the sky like it had betrayed them.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, breath catching as I stepped forward.

Keegan flanked me, his hand brushing mine instinctively, while Twobble skidded to a halt and sniffed the air like it might hold answers.

Nova turned slowly, and I swear a flicker of guilt passed through her eyes. “It’s early.”

“What’s early?” I asked, my voice clipped. I hated not knowing.

Lady Limora’s gaze cut toward the horizon. “Moonbeam’s Eve.”

My stomach dropped. “That’s not possible. It’s not even afternoon. I have several more hours before I even need to think about it.”

Nova shook her head. “We thought we did.”

“What do you mean you thought? Nova, what’s happening?”

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she turned on her heel, her long coat whispering behind her, and began walking toward the outer courtyard in the oldest part of the garden.

“Come,” she said. “You’ll want to see this.”

The sky was clear, birds chirping, and the spring sun soft on the skin, but something pulsed beneath it all. Like the earth had shifted beneath our feet, and no one had been informed.

Ardetia and Bella were already outside, waiting near the old fountain that hadn’t worked in decades but still shimmered faintly with charms.

Bella’s face was unreadable. Ardetia’s was less so. She looked wary, arms crossed, and shoulders tense. The moment we arrived, they both turned and pointed upward.

I looked, and felt everything in me still.

There, pale and full, the moon had risen so bright and enormous in the daylight sky.

It hovered like a truth too big to swallow. No mist to blur it. No darkness to hide it. Just the stark silver curve of inevitability.

“But it’s not night,” I said softly, eyes fixed on it. “It’s not even close to night.”

“The moon has a will of its own,” Nova said. “It listens to no schedule.”

“Because it is the schedule.” Ardetia pressed her lips together. “This happened once before. Long ago. The moon moved when it was ready, not when we were.”

Bella let out a breath.

“It happened during my first Moonbeam,” she said, her voice low. “I was a child. My family wasn’t prepared. But the moon didn’t wait.”

Keegan swore under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear.

The garden was too still.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t blink, and couldn’t breathe around the swell of dread rising in my throat.

Because the truth settled over me fast and hard.

Moonbeam’s Eve wasn’t arriving.

It was already here.

I glanced around at the faces circling me. Nova’s eyes held apology. Lady Limora looked stricken but focused. Bella’s mouth was a thin line, and Ardetia’s gaze had shifted from the moon to me.

“You have to go,” Ardetia said, and there was no ceremony in it. There was no softness to the words, just the hard edge of certainty.

“But I’m not ready.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

I hadn’t meant to say them aloud.

Nova stepped closer. “You’ll never feel ready, Maeve. No one ever does. That’s the point of Moonbeam.”

Twobble wrung his hands. “But there were still things to go over. You haven’t even eaten your snack.”

Keegan’s jaw was tight. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes never left me.

I was trying to remember how to breathe. How to think. My heart felt like it was going to beat straight out of my chest.

I had hours. Less than. No, it was now .

My voice trembled, but I steadied it. “We don’t even know how to break the curse yet.”

Nova’s expression flickered. “We know enough.”

“That’s not the same.”

Lady Limora stepped forward, laying a gloved hand gently on my shoulder. “Maeve. The moon doesn’t open the Veil to your convenience. It opens to what it senses. To intention. And whatever you’ve stirred in this town… It’s time.”

Her words didn’t comfort me.

But they rang true.

I looked up again, eyes locked on the pale silver globe that now glowed faintly, not with sun or star but with promise.

This was it.

No more practice.

No more illusion.

The real Shadowick waited, and the Veil was already thinning.

I felt the world shift beneath my feet again, the quiet hum of the Butterfly Ward trembling just slightly, like it too understood what was coming.

I thought of my father, still trapped in a cursed form.

I thought of my daughter, happy and far away and utterly unaware that her mother was about to step into the most dangerous place she’d ever seen.

I thought of the dragons beneath the Academy.

Of the spell that waited somewhat formed in the depths of my magic.

Of the truth in Gideon’s eyes.

Of Keegan’s hand, still resting just beside mine.

And I swallowed everything down because I had no choice.

Moonbeam had called.

And ready or not, I was going in.

Moonbeam’s Eve had shifted the world sideways, and nothing felt real anymore—not the sun still shining overhead, not the warmth of Keegan’s hand that lingered too long in memory, not even the shimmer of the Butterfly Ward now rippling with energy so ancient it made my skin prickle.

But it was Lady Limora’s words that circled through me like a bell that wouldn’t stop ringing.

“You’ll need someone of blood to cross with you.”

I hadn’t asked what she meant at the time. I hadn’t wanted to. I’d hoped it was metaphorical, that maybe she meant magical lineage or some symbolic connection. But I knew better now. Magic was many things, wild, chaotic, intuitive, but rarely symbolic when it came to rules this old.

It meant family.

It meant I couldn’t go alone.

I clenched my hands at my sides as I turned toward the Academy. The thought of bringing anyone into Shadowick with me was enough to make my breath turn shallow. But someone of my blood?

There was only one person who fit that description.

Frank.

My dad.

Still cursed. Still stuck in his squat bulldog form, padding around the Academy like the unofficial guardian of the hearth and the stolen socks. Still present. Still him .

“There’s something I need to do,” I said softly and turned before anyone had a chance to say anything.

I found him in the sitting room near the hearth, exactly where I’d hoped he’d be. The fire crackled softly, throwing golden light against the floor. My dad lay curled on the thick rug, his chin resting on his paws, one ear twitching slightly as I approached.

He looked up before I said a word, and his eyes, those same familiar brown eyes, met mine like he already knew what I was about to ask.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, crouching down beside him. “We need to talk.”

His ears perked.

I ran a hand along his fur, slow and steady, trying to hide the way mine trembled. “Moonbeam’s Eve came early. I’m going in soon.”

He let out a short huff through his nose, then nudged my hand with his blunt head. I imagined if he could talk, he’d be saying, finally .

“I know you want to help,” I whispered. “And you will. But it’s not safe, and I can’t have you near Gideon.”

A low growl buzzed from his throat at the mention of that name, and I nodded.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m going to keep you hidden. But I need you there.” I swallowed. “You’re my blood, and the Veil might require that. If what Lady Limora said is true, you’re the key that lets me in fully. That anchors me.”

He didn’t bark. Didn’t growl. Didn’t move away.

Instead, he shifted closer, pressing his shoulder to my leg, warm and steady and solid.

My throat tightened.

“I hate this,” I said. “I hate risking you. But I hate not giving us every possible advantage more.”

He sniffed my knee in a rare moment of dog-like affection, then trotted over to the hearth and pawed at the old blanket he liked to drag around when he was feeling restless.

I understood. I was restless too. Restless and terrified and angry in ways I didn’t know how to name.

Because this was it.

The Veil was thinning. The moon had spoken. And I was being asked to walk into a world that had once only existed in illusions and dreams, and take my dad with me.

“What if I fail?” I whispered.

Frank walked over and nudged me again, this time with enough force to nearly topple me sideways.

“Okay,” I said with a soft laugh. “Rude. But fair.”

I stared into the fire for a long time. Let the heat sear some of the fear from my bones. Let the truth of what was ahead sink in.

Shadowick wasn’t just the shadow town.

It was a wound.

A waiting wound full of whispers, secrets, and twisted roots that had taken hold of my life long before I ever set foot back in Stonewick.

And now, I had to go back into that wound, drag my family with me, and hope that somehow, it wouldn’t consume us whole.

“I need to talk to Nova,” I said, mostly to myself.

My dad stood, shaking out his coat, and looked at me with that same patient, knowing expression that reminded me he wasn’t just a dog. Not really.

He was still my dad.

And he was ready to fight.

“You’re going to stay hidden,” I told him again, firmer now. “Promise me. Only come out if everything goes wrong. I mean, really wrong.”

He gave a single short bark, and I took that as agreement.

I stood, brushing off my pants and swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Alright,” I said softly. “Let’s get ready.”

Because this wasn’t a dream anymore.

This was the day the Veil opened.

And blood would keep me anchored.