Page 38

I didn’t like the way Gideon said Moonbeam .

Like it belonged to him.

Like it was a spell he’d twisted to fit his mouth and mold to his needs.

The way he said it made the moon sound like it was on a leash.

The word still echoed in my head as Celeste stepped down from the café stoop, oblivious to the threat wrapped around her like fog. Gideon’s posture didn’t shift. He stood just behind me, hands loosely clasped behind his back like a curator watching his exhibit perform exactly as intended.

They were walking toward us slowly.

“You’re not its master,” I said, the words too low for my daughter to hear.

Gideon tilted his head, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I didn’t say I was.”

“You act like it.”

“I respect power,” he said simply. “And the Moonbeam has more of it than most people realize.”

I glanced up.

The moon was watching. I could feel it—no, see it. Its light didn’t feel like a gift or a curse. It felt like a test.

And I remembered.

Not here. Not in this cursed, fog-choked village.

But below the Academy, in the sacred warmth of the unnamed, their den lives. The silver-scaled one with sea-glass eyes had spoken in a voice I hadn’t heard with my ears, but had felt down to the edges of my bones.

When the Moonbeam bends low and the Veil thins, what is anchored in truth will hold. What is rooted in fear will crack.

I’d repeated those words to myself before sleep. While stirring tea. While training my mind to protect memory.

But only now did I truly feel them settle.

It is not a tool. It is a mirror. It does not create light. It reveals it.

And if that was true, then I had to strip the fear from my body like a ruined cloak. Because the Moonbeam wouldn’t show me what I wanted to be.

It would show me who I was.

If I carried fear, that’s what it would reflect.

I took a slow breath, still staring at Celeste. Her boyfriend, Darren , touched her lower back lightly as they passed beneath one of the broken gas lamps. She laughed at something he said, then looked over her shoulder for me.

My daughter.

Bright and curious and entirely unaware that she’d wandered into a battlefield made of memory, magic, and history soaked in blood.

No. This wasn’t about legacy anymore. Not just the curse. Not just the divide between towns. Not just broken Wards or the ancient creatures who whispered truths in the dark.

This was about her .

Keeping her safe.

Getting her out .

I couldn’t burn for every cause. But I would burn for this one.

Gideon stepped closer to my side, still looking forward. “Do you know what I find most interesting about you, Maeve?”

I didn’t answer. I was afraid I’d hit him if I did.

“You always act like you’re barely holding on. But you don’t break. You twist. You adapt. You bend . That makes you dangerous.”

“That makes me human ,” I said.

He hummed in response. “Maybe. Or maybe you were always something more.”

I shook my head. “Stop talking like you know me.”

“I do. Better than you think.” He paused. “The Moonbeam knows you, too.”

I let my gaze sweep the street, absorbing every detail, from the unnatural stillness to the way light refused to cling to the edges of the windows, and the distant flicker of shadow dancers curling through alleyways like smoke.

My fingers twitched toward the pouch at my hip.

I could feel the magic there, steady and humming.

But no charm was going to save us tonight.

“Don’t project your obsession onto the moon,” I muttered. “It doesn’t belong to you.”

His smile faltered then. Just slightly. “No. But it’s watching.”

“Good,” I said. “Because I’ve got something to show it.”

And it wasn’t fear.

It was truth .

The truth was that I was scared. Yes. But that fear didn’t own me.

It didn’t steer me. I had walked into this nightmare for one reason—to end it.

I needed to reclaim Stonewick and break the chain between our towns, our bloodlines, and whatever shadow magic he’d welded together with his charm and lies.

But now?

Now I was here to save my daughter.

That wasn’t negotiable.

“I’m not playing your game anymore,” I said, stepping away from him. “I’m not feeding your little experiment.”

“You think you have a choice?” he asked, genuinely amused.

I turned to face him fully now. “I know I do.”

And then I let the air between us crackle, not with rage, not with threat, but with certainty . With the quiet strength that came from knowing what had to be done, even when it scared you. Especially when it scared you.

The light of the moon flared, as if it heard me.

Gideon’s expression shifted again. Not in fear. But in interest.

“You’re not who you were when you arrived,” he said. “That’s good. Because what comes next will ruin anyone who isn’t sure of themselves.”

“I am sure,” I whispered. “Of what I have to do.”

“Then do it.”

He faded into the mist like a puppet dropped by an impatient master, vanishing between breaths.

I turned back to the street.

Celeste and Darren were just ahead now, arms swinging lightly, and for the first time in hours, I felt clarity settle into my limbs like armor.

No matter what Gideon wanted… no matter what the Moonbeam revealed…

I would protect her.

Even if it meant revealing every secret I’d been too scared to name.

Even if it meant burning myself to the ground.

I ran.

Fog curled around my ankles like it wanted to trip me, pull me down, and bury me before I could get the words out. But I didn’t stop. My boots hit the broken cobblestones hard, each step a heartbeat louder than the last, thudding up through my chest as I charged across the street.

Gideon was gone.

Of course, he was. Vanished into shadow like he always did, leaving his threats in his wake like traps and whispers. But I didn’t care about him anymore. Not in this moment. Not when my daughter stood ten paces ahead of me, her arm looped through Darren’s, her head tilted slightly in concern.

“Celeste,” I called out, my voice loud, uneven. “Celeste, wait.”

She turned.

Everything about her stung, her face, her curls, the way she looked at me like I was teetering on the edge of madness.

And maybe I was.

Darren’s eyes narrowed as I approached. He stepped in front of her, one hand raised like he was the one protecting her .

“Maeve,” he said smoothly, “I think you’re upset. Maybe we should—”

“Move,” I said, breathless.

Celeste blinked. “Mom, what are you doing?”

“I have to tell you something,” I said, ignoring Darren’s presence entirely now. “Something I should’ve told you the moment I found out.”

Darren didn’t budge. His grip on her hand tightened.

“I think you’re confused. Maybe we should go get some air—”

“We’re already in the air,” I snapped, glaring at him before turning back to my daughter. “Celeste, please. Listen to me.”

“Mom…”

Her voice trembled.

She could feel it. The edge beneath us. The heaviness in the air. The truth that was just out of reach, like it had been crouching nearby for months, waiting to be acknowledged.

“I didn’t want to drag you into this,” I said. “I didn’t want you to even know this part of me. I’m still learning it myself.”

Darren made a soft scoffing noise.

“You hear yourself, Maeve? You sound insane . See what I told you? She’s not in her right mind.”

“Shut up,” I growled, my voice full of steel. “You don’t get to talk right now.”

He blinked that calm, collected mask of his, and it faltered for just a second. A glimmer of something older.

He wasn’t afraid, but he was annoyed.

“You lied to her,” I said, looking straight at him. “You’ve been lying since the day you met her.”

“I didn’t—” he began, but Celeste was already looking at me.

“Mom,” she said, her voice thinner now. “What’s going on? What’s happening?”

I took a breath.

This wasn’t how I wanted it to happen. Not in this cursed town, not beneath the moon, not with the shadows circling and time fraying around the edges. But maybe it had to be here. Maybe this was the only way she’d believe me.

“Celeste,” I said, my voice steady despite the panic in my veins. “Stonewick isn’t just a tourist town. It’s real. The magic. The history. There’s even an Academy. Everything. It’s all real. And you—” I reached for her hand, but Darren tugged her back half a step. “You’re part of it.”

She frowned. “Part of what?”

“Magic runs through you,” I said. “Through our whole line. I didn’t want it to affect you. I tried to shield you from it, but—”

“Magic?” she echoed, her brows drawn together. “You mean… like real magic?”

Darren laughed then. Sharp and theatrical. “Oh, come on .”

But Celeste didn’t laugh. She just stared at me, searching my face.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me this before?”

“Because I was trying to give you a normal life,” I said. “Because I was scared. And I didn’t think you’d believe me if I said it in your dorm room or over the phone. But this—” I waved a hand at the buildings, the fog, the pulsing air. “This is proof.”

Darren stepped forward, pulling her with him. “This is ridiculous . Come on, Celeste. You don’t have to listen to this. Let’s go.”

She hesitated.

That pause… it was everything.

She looked at me again, eyes wide and uncertain.

And I saw it— the shift . The crack in the story he’d spun. The tiny moment where something in her tilted toward me. Where her gut finally caught up with her heart.

“Darren,” she said softly. “Wait.”

He stopped and turned slowly.

And the look he gave her wasn’t soft, sweet, or patient.

It was hard.

Briefly. Blazingly.

“You said your mom was a little… off,” he said through a tight smile. “But I didn’t realize she was delusional.”

Celeste flinched, and he reached for her again.

But she pulled her hand back.

“Don’t,” she said.

It was quiet. But it cut clean.

And Darren’s smile vanished.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“I said don’t,” she repeated. “I want to hear her out.”

His jaw ticked. “This is a waste of time.”

“I’ll decide that,” she said.

His posture shifted then, small, almost imperceptible, but I felt it. Something deep inside of him exhaled through gritted teeth as his mask of patience evaporated.

“I need a minute,” he muttered, backing away.

“Darren,” Celeste called, her voice uncertain.

But he didn’t turn around.

He disappeared into the fog.

I watched him go, heart pounding.

And then I turned back to my daughter, my bright, brave daughter, who now looked more shaken than I’d ever seen her.

She looked at me, her voice barely a whisper. “Mom… what’s happening?”

I didn’t have an answer yet, but the truth was coming.

All of it.