Page 36

"Mom, this place is so cool. It’s like Stonewick, but all goth."

The voice hit me like a slap.

Not a metaphorical one, either.

It was like reality cracked, sharp and cold, splitting open under my feet as my daughter’s voice rang out on the doorstep.

My knees gave the faintest buckle, and for a moment, I wasn’t Maeve Bellemore, headmistress, Hedge witch, curse-breaker. I was just a mother hearing her child’s voice where she absolutely should not be.

Celeste.

She appeared behind Gideon, her dark auburn curls loosely bouncing, a charcoal-gray sweater dress hugging her tall frame as she practically skipped behind him.

Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, not fear. There was even a grin, crooked and earnest and painfully familiar, pulling at her mouth.

The room spun.

No. No, no, no.

“Celeste?” I whispered, but it came out strangled like my lungs had forgotten how to function.

Gideon’s smile widened. Not smug. Not gloating. Worse. It was warm. Pleased.

“Well,” he drawled, “this is turning out to be even more delightful than I expected. A little mother-daughter reunion in the moonlight. How poetic.”

I didn’t hear him after that. Not really.

Because she ran toward me.

She ran, arms open, smile bright, her laughter echoing against the eerie stone walls of Shadowick like some twisted lullaby from a dream. My feet were rooted, my heart somewhere in my throat, and I couldn't breathe until her arms wrapped around me and her head pressed against my shoulder.

She was real.

Solid.

Warm.

“Oh my god, Mom,” she said, pulling back slightly to look at me. “This place is wild . It’s like Stonewick’s moody twin. And that guy—” She jerked her thumb behind her, toward Gideon. “—is hilarious. Super intense. But he knows so much about magic. He said I have potential. Isn’t that crazy?”

I stared at her.

At her eyes.

They were shining.

Not enchanted. Not vacant.

Happy.

Terrifyingly happy.

“Oh, honey,” I whispered. My fingers gripped her arms without thinking, as if I were trying to anchor her here, to anchor myself to the sheer impossibility of what was happening. “What are you doing here?”

The sound of footsteps on the stairs next to Celeste made my stomach drop like it had just remembered how to fall. They were light at first, carefree, but something about the cadence twisted in my gut.

Familiar.

Celeste turned at the sound, her smile still tentative, but her fingers were wrapped tightly in mine now, like even she could feel the air change.

And then he appeared.

Her boyfriend.

Charming. Polished. Kind eyes. That same rumpled academic look he’d worn when he first stepped off the train that day and drank at the coffee shop. When he’d shaken my hand with a warmth that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

I couldn’t breathe.

Because now, as the fog of magic and memory parted, I saw him.

Not just as Celeste’s sweet, supportive boyfriend. Not the one who laughed at her jokes and brought her matcha lattes with oat milk. No, there was something older under that face—something calculated.

Something that had been placed .

And everything, everything, fell into place.

The train station. That flicker of pressure at the back of my skull when he arrived. The way Gideon had shown up that very same afternoon, watching from across the road like a storm cloud waiting to burst.

A coincidence, I’d told myself.

Except I didn’t believe in those anymore.

Especially not now.

Then there was the time he came to Stonewick.

He’d been charming then, too. Eager to meet Celeste’s family. Eager to see the town that had shaped her. Too eager to take her away to their lake house.

Because he knew .

Because he wasn’t just some nice boy from campus with a family lake house and an overachieving mom who made Sunday dinners.

He was something else.

And now, standing beside my daughter in the middle of Shadowick, beneath a sky too quiet and a moon too full, he looked straight at me with the calm of someone who’d already won.

"Hi, Ms. Bellemore," he said, all sweetness and manners, like this was just another evening at a college mixer. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

His voice was like silk pulled too tight, and still, Celeste beamed, like everything was fine.

Because in her world, it was.

He stepped down the last stair and wrapped an arm around my daughter’s shoulders, and when she leaned into him without hesitation, something splintered inside my chest.

Gideon stood behind them, smug and silent, letting the scene unfold like a stage play he’d directed.

"Maeve," Gideon murmured, eyes glittering, "I believe you’ve met Darren."

Darren.

I’d never liked the name. It felt too polished. Too slippery. But now it made my skin crawl.

Darren turned his head slightly, just enough to let me see it, with that gleam of something ancient hiding beneath the polite smile. Not shadow, not magic.

Intent.

He wasn’t a puppet.

He was a player .

“Oh, Maeve,” Gideon said softly, as if speaking to a friend who’d just caught up to the truth. “Didn’t you ever wonder how your daughter found someone so perfect, so quickly? So willing to embrace her quirks? So ready to belong ?”

“She has no quirks.” I clenched my fists.

He shrugged. “Eh, like her mom.”

“You planted him.”

Darren smiled. “No one planted me. I just… noticed her.”

“You manipulated her,” I snapped, the words sharp enough to slice through the tension. “You got close so you could get to me .”

His expression didn’t change. “That’s one version of the story.”

“Why?” My voice broke as I turned back to Gideon. “Why bring her into this? Why risk her? W hy her?”

Gideon’s eyes softened, almost tender. “Because she’s your center. And because you have something we need.”

“Her blood?” I hissed. “My power?”

“No,” Darren said quietly. “Her choice.”

Celeste looked between us, her confusion blooming into fear. “What are you talking about? What choice?”

I reached for her again, gently, desperately. “Baby, listen to me. You’re not safe here.”

Darren’s hand tightened on her arm.

She blinked up at him. “Darren?”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s alright. Just trust me.”

“No,” I said, stepping forward. “Don’t trust him. Don’t trust any of this.”

Celeste stared at me. “Mom… you’re scaring me.”

I let the tears come. Just a little. “Good. Because you should be scared.”

The moonlight outside pulsed.

The dancers in the fog crept closer to the windows.

And I finally understood why Gideon had been so calm.

He’d never needed to trap me.

He just needed to make me choose .

And now he was forcing me to choose between saving my daughter…

…or saving the magical world.

And the worst part?

He knew my truth before I did. He knew precisely which I’d pick.

I turned to Gideon, whose eyes glittered with triumph.

"You…" I choked. “You planned this.”

He lifted a brow. “Oh no, Maeve. I wouldn’t dream of taking credit for fate. Or family. Your daughter’s arrival? That was a gift. One, I intend to treat with care.”

“You stay away from her,” I snapped. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“She has everything to do with this,” Gideon said, spreading his arms as if to indicate the cursed village around us. “Legacy, lineage, magic passed down. And what stronger spell is there than blood?”

Celeste stepped back slightly, confused. Her gaze flicked from me to Gideon. “Wait, what’s going on?”

I forced a smile onto my face, brittle as ice. “Nothing. Nothing, sweetheart. We’re just… we’re in the middle of something complicated. This place isn’t what it seems.”

“Of course it’s not,” Gideon said smoothly. “It’s more.”

“Mom?” Her voice was quieter now. “Why are you acting weird?”

Because I’m terrified. Because I have no idea how I’m going to protect you from him. Because I came here knowing I might lose everything— me .

But not you. Never you.

“I just didn’t expect you here,” I managed. “It’s not safe.”

Her brow furrowed. “You’re here.”

“I’m trained for this. I know what this place is.”

“Then explain it,” she said, a bit of steel entering her tone.

She was her mother’s daughter, after all.

I looked at Gideon again, rage sparking behind my ribcage. “Let her go.”

“Oh, she’s not a prisoner,” he said with exaggerated innocence. “She walked in under the Moonbeam, of her own volition. The Veil accepted her. That makes her part of this now.”

“No,” I said, my voice shaking, “she didn’t know what she was walking into.”

“But she wanted to walk into it. That’s the thing about magic, Maeve. It thrives off of decisions.”

“Mom, what is he talking about?” Celeste’s voice quivered now, a thread of fear finally worming in.

I reached for her again. “I’m going to get you out of here. I promise.”

She hesitated. “Am I in danger?”

I looked at Gideon.

He smiled.

“Yes,” I said. “But not in the way you think.”

And that was when the shadows began to stir from the alleyways and the corners.

The shadow dancers glided silently now, limbs too long, faces hidden behind smoke and shimmer. They slid between stone walls and lantern-lit stoops, forming a slow, deliberate circle around the building. The village held its breath.

Gideon tilted his head, studying me.

“I told you, there’s only one way to break the curse.”

I glared at him. “And dragging her here helps you how ?”

He stepped forward, close enough that I could see the flicker of something tired behind his arrogance. “It gives you something to lose. Something you’ll fight harder for. Something to choose .”

I wanted to scream. To claw the world open and hurl him into it. But Celeste was beside me now, clutching my hand, confused and afraid.

“I’m not playing your game,” I said through my teeth.

“You already are,” he said softly. “But don’t worry. You’ll win or lose very soon.”

And then the shadows pressed closer, and my daughter—my beautiful, brave girl—tightened her grip on my hand.

“Mom,” she whispered, “I’m scared.”

So was I.