Page 43

The Academy rose like a memory from a dream—too grand, too full of promise, and far too fragile for what was coming.

Its towers shimmered in the moonlight, ivy cascading over archways like it belonged there more than we did. The massive front doors, etched in ancient sigils and glowing faintly with protective wards, waited at the top of the stone steps. They’d held for decades against time, silence, and sorrow.

And I wondered if it held regret.

For letting me in, for attempting to lead when I still needed to be led.

Keegan brushed my hand as we stepped forward. Celeste followed, quiet and watchful. Twobble muttered something about the Wards making his hair feel frizzy. Skonk zipped ahead, scanning the rooftops.

I placed my palm on the doors, and they opened with a slow, resonant creak.

The warmth of the foyer hit me like a soft blanket, but even that couldn’t mask the tension in the air. Dozens of students were gathered in tight clusters, their voices hushed and their expressions somber. The sconces glowed a little dimmer than usual.

Near the grand staircase stood Grandma Elira.

She was talking to someone, her hands moving with that graceful precision she always used when trying not to alarm anyone. But the moment she saw me, she turned, crossing the room like the marble floor was on fire beneath her feet.

“You felt it,” I said before she could speak.

She nodded. “Just recently. A shift.”

“What kind?”

She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I don’t know. It’s like the magic inside the Academy flinched.”

“Flinched?”

“Yes.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “As if something walked over its soul.”

A chill ran down my spine.

The crowd stirred again as three students broke away from the others and rushed over. Vivienne and Opal stood in front of me quietly.

“Maeve,” Vivienne panted. “Something’s wrong.”

“With the Maple Ward?” I asked, knowing that was where they last were.

“Stella is there now with Mara. Things seem okay there.”

“But we’ve been checking the wings,” Opal added. “The West Wing’s fine. The Sun Chapel’s quiet. Even the storage rooms near the library alcove seem untouched.”

“But there’s a coldness,” Mara said. “In the floors. In the mirrors. We can't find the source.”

I turned toward the stairwell, where soft light played along the balustrades. Nothing looked out of place. And that was the problem.

The students looked to me, waiting for answers I didn’t have.

Not yet.

But I could feel the Academy in my bones.

And tonight, it was scared.

I climbed a few steps so I could see everyone. My voice was steady, at least I hoped it was.

“I know many of you came here seeking safety. And tonight was supposed to be a celebration. A new beginning from breaking the curse.”

I swallowed hard.

“But something has changed inside these walls. Something is watching.”

A ripple of unease spread across the students.

Keegan took one step closer. Just enough that I could feel him near. I didn’t look back, but I leaned into the comfort of his presence.

“I don’t believe in blind panic,” I said. “But I do believe in protecting what matters.”

My voice grew firmer.

“For your safety, we’ll evacuate. This is not a retreat. It’s a safeguard. We’ll return when we understand what’s happening and how to stop it.”

Gasps. Whispers. A few looks of disbelief.

“But… where will we go?” one witch asked. A centaur stood behind her, with a questioning gaze.

“To the grove near the Flame Ward,” I replied. “It’s shielded and strong. No shadows reach it. Once you’re there, we’ll set up temporary protections.”

“Do you think it’s him?” Mara asked, voice barely audible. “Gideon?”

I looked toward the far wall, where one of the stained glass windows flickered with uncertain light.

“Yes,” I said softly. “He came through the Butterfly Ward. We have to assume he touched something here. It would be foolish to think he wasn’t still here.”

Grandma Elira’s eyes darkened. “The Butterfly Ward has always been open to change… but it has never liked being manipulated.”

I nodded. “Which is why we won’t risk anyone else until we can stabilize it.”

Stella moved to my side. “Witches and magical folk, please follow our lead. Let’s take it slow and easy. No need to trample or panic.”

The witches and magical creatures remained calmer than I felt as they followed the instructions that the book sprites were now repeating.

“Ardetia and I will strengthen the temporary shields when we arrive,” Bella added. “The grove will hold and then we will return.”

Celeste touched my arm. “And you? Are you staying here?”

“For now,” I said. “I want to make sure everyone gets out first.”

My gaze swept across the students, some nervous, some curious, all brave in their own way.

They trusted me.

And it nearly broke me in half.

Because I didn’t feel like a leader tonight. I felt like someone holding a very old, very full cup, trying not to spill what little hope we had left.

“Everyone,” I called. “Gather your essentials. One bag per person. Leave what you must, but keep your spellbooks. And keep each other close.”

The Academy groaned softly above us. A sound not of stone or wood, but something deeper.

It was time.

Not to flee but to endure.

And when we returned, we would come not as survivors.

But as guardians.

And I would make sure this place, its stories, its students, its soul, was never touched by darkness again.

The students moved like birds before a storm.

Some were calm, following their teachers in tidy lines through the glowing doorways, laced with shimmering thread.

Others darted between groups, whispering last-minute spells into their belongings, their faces pale with fear and confusion.

The teleportation stones glimmered with gold as each group disappeared in a swirl of protective light.

It was working for now.

The evacuation was orderly, with no panic, no screaming, just a terribly focused hush. A quiet that made the hairs on my arms stand up and my magic prickle like it knew something I didn’t yet.

I stood just inside the great doors, hands clenched at my sides. Celeste was beside me, clutching her hands together like they might fall off her arms. Her eyes were wide, her lips tight, and her shoulders drawn in.

I turned to her and placed both hands on her arms. “You’ll go with the next group, okay?”

Her chin lifted. “No.”

“Celeste—”

“I’m not leaving you.”

It was a simple statement. Clear. Absolute. She’d drawn her line in the Academy, and not even magical protocol or motherly instinct was going to shift her.

But this wasn’t about bravery.

It was about survival.

I bent closer and lowered my voice as Ember appeared. “Please protect my daughter. She refuses to leave.”

Ember smiled and nodded. “Like mother, like daughter.”

“Go, Celeste. I love you more than life itself.”

“Don’t say goodbye.” She searched my eyes, mouth twitching with a thousand unspoken questions.

“I won’t. See you shortly.”

Ember nearly pulled her away, and I knew she would ensure she disappeared as one of the haunts.

Keegan approached silently. “She okay?”

I nodded. “She will be.”

His brow lifted. “You’re sure?”

“She’s a Bellemore.”

Celeste gave me one last, long look, and then they disappeared.

No one else in the foyer seemed to notice.

Good.

“She’ll be alright,” I said quietly.

Keegan shifted closer. “So long as we are too.”

Bella was already back, Ardetia trailing her with a glowing protective stone in hand.

“First batch of students made it to the grove,” Bella said.

“Second batch’s on the way,” Ardetia added. “But it’s getting harder to weave.”

“Why?” I asked.

Ardetia’s eyes flicked toward the western corridor. “Something’s moving in the walls. I can feel it pressing against the spells.”

Stella swept into the foyer, her cloak trailing mist. “Same on the east wing. The magic’s twitchy.”

“We need to start the search,” I said. “Before we lose our chance to find where he is.”

I looked at the others. “We split into three groups. Bella and Ardetia, you take the East Wing. Stella and Lady Limora—South corridors. Keegan and I will go West. Mara, Opal, and Vivienne, I want you above us, watching from the rafters. And do what vampires do when they see trouble.”

We moved out.

The deeper we walked, the colder it became as if the warmth of the Academy’s heart was retreating from the edges.

In the West Wing, candlelight flickered in unpredictable gusts. Paintings stared longer than they should have. One even twitched.

Unreadable clues.

“I hate him,” I muttered, thinking about him dragging my daughter into this.

“Hate is too hard to control,” Keegan whispered. “Just dislike him strongly. Works for me.”

I chuckled as we stepped around a warped corridor, our shoes clicking softly against mosaic floors that had once hummed with student laughter.

Now it just echoed.

The shadows in the corners stretched longer than they should have. Every torchlight cast shapes that felt too dense, too aware.

Keegan touched my arm. “Look.”

At the end of the hallway, a door stood ajar.

A faint glow pulsed from inside. Not warm. Not inviting.

I nodded.

We moved in silence.

I reached the door first and slowly pushed it open. Inside, what had once been a simple storage room was now layered in thin, gauzy filaments of black.

They pulsed with something like breath.

“Do you feel that?” I whispered.

Keegan nodded grimly. “Magic. Old. But not natural.”

I stepped forward, lifted my hand, and let a spark of light grow from my palm. The filaments recoiled slightly.

“Why would he leave this behind?”

Keegan’s eyes never left the shadows. “A seed of some sort, an escape route if needed.”

“Or a snare.”

Suddenly, a shriek pierced through the hallway. It was muffled but near.

Keegan moved instantly, blade drawn from the sheath at his side.

“South Wing,” he barked.

We ran.

Every corridor we passed seemed to breathe, as if the Academy itself was holding in a lungful of air and guiding us as quickly as possible.

We burst into the central passage where Stella and Lady Limora had gone.

Stella stood in the middle of the corridor, her arms raised, holding back a thick mist of black threads that twisted and writhed against her glowing magic. Lady Limora clung to a statue with wide eyes and a stick in her hand like it was a holy sword.

“I told you!” she shouted. “It wiggled! ”

Stella’s light burned brighter, forcing the shadow back, and I stepped beside her, pouring magic into the air like golden thread, and pushed. The shadows hissed, recoiled.

We held our ground, but the Academy was groaning now.

And I knew, in my gut, that this was only the beginning.