Page 7

I frowned. “You think Gideon sent him?”

Twobble shook his head. “Skonk wouldn’t take orders. Not even for a mountain of golden snail shells.”

“But?”

“But he might have smelled something worth watching. He treats magic like a hit reality television show, if you know what I mean. And if he’s watching… so is someone else.”

I rubbed my temples. “Great. So now we’ve got a meddling goblin cousin and a dark sorcerer on our tail.”

Twobble slurped his tea. “Welcome to the family.”

I glanced out the window, nearly expecting another pebble to come flying toward the glass.

“Do all goblins really have identical cousins?”

He shrugged. “I mean… don’t you? ”

I didn’t even dignify that with a response.

Outside, the garden had gone still again. But something in the air still buzzed—like a ripple that hadn’t finished moving through the surface.

Skonk was gone for now.

But I had the feeling that whatever he'd been looking for… he hadn’t found it yet.

And he’d be back.

Twobble sat sideways on my kitchen table, legs swinging idly, his empty teacup cradled in both hands like it held answers instead of steeped lavender. The earlier chaos had passed—no pebbles, no Skonk, no winged gargoyles spiraling from the heavens.

Just me and him now, wrapped in the quiet of the cottage while the evening thickened outside.

He looked uncharacteristically pensive, and his nose twitched once, and again.

I was about to ask what he was smelling when he asked, quietly, “How are you feeling about Shadowick?”

The question caught me off guard.

Not what’s the plan , or do we have enough moonstone, or should we trap Gideon in a pickle jar, which was more his usual range.

But how do you feel?

I looked at him.

“I’m not sure,” I said truthfully. “I keep telling everyone I believe we can turn it around. That there’s still something left to save. But…”

I hesitated and let out a heavy sigh.

“I’ve seen things in dreams, in illusions, and in the mirrors that crackle during the moon phases. It’s like Shadowick seeps into the edges of my mind when I’m most vulnerable.” I shook my head, and Twobble didn’t interrupt.

“I see the town,” I continued softly. “But it’s not like here.

It’s cold. Too still. The buildings feel…

heavy, as if they’re watching. I see figures moving, but they don’t have faces.

Just shadows. And the wind there doesn’t feel like wind.

It presses down on a person as if it’s trying to get inside you. ”

My voice faltered.

Twobble’s legs stopped swinging.

“It always feels like it’s right on the edge of memory like I’ve been there, but I haven’t. Or maybe like part of me is already there, waiting.”

There was a long pause.

Then, Twobble said, “You’re not wrong.”

I looked at him, and he wasn’t grinning, smirking, or making light.

His eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them.

“I’ve been there,” he said quietly.

The room shifted around us, something in the magic, in the air, even the cottage, seemed to lean in.

“You’ve what? ”

He nodded, slowly. “Once. A long time ago. Before the Academy sealed up. Before the curse cut the Wards’ strength in half. I was sent on a gathering errand for Nova. She needed something rare. A vine that only grows near the water boundary beyond the eastern edge.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s not a place I like to remember, and I honestly don’t remember much.”

I watched him closely, his expression more fragile than I’d ever seen it.

There was no bravado or jokes surrounding him like usual, just the raw honesty of someone who’d survived something he didn’t quite understand.

“Was it like what I saw?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “It felt worse.”

The words sat heavy between us and a shiver ran through me.

Twobble’s shoulders sank. “It’s a town made of echoes, but they’re not your echoes.

They’re something else’s. Something pretending.

The buildings look familiar until you realize they aren’t.

Everything is just a little off. And the streets are quiet, not because they’re empty, but because what lives there doesn’t make noise like we do. ”

My skin prickled as my mind whirled with familiarity. Shadowick was always just a little off.

“And the cold…” He shivered. “It’s not the kind of cold that makes your teeth chatter. It’s the kind that gets inside your magic. It dulls your spark, but you don’t notice it at first. It seeps in, slow and greedy, like it wants to keep you.”

I sat back in my chair, absorbing that. The sense of dread I’d felt in my visions and illusions was confirmed and real.

“But you made it back.”

“Barely,” he said. “I left something behind. I don’t know what. But I felt it as soon as I crossed back through the trees. Like a thread had snapped.”

He looked up at me, his eyes sharp now. “So if you’re going, you need to anchor yourself. Not just magically. Emotionally. You need to know who you are and why you came. Or Shadowick will try to tell you for you .”

I shivered, pulling the blanket from the back of the chair across my lap.

“I keep thinking maybe I’m strong enough now,” I murmured. “But I don’t know what I’ll find if I go.”

Twobble slid off the table and padded across the floor. He climbed up onto the bench beside me and patted my hand with a little goblin paw.

“Here’s what I know,” he said. “You’ve woken an Academy. You’ve softened a wolf shifter. You’ve survived your mother’s judgment and Stella’s magical tea. You’re made of stronger stuff than you think.”

I gave a quiet laugh. “Stella’s tea night was no small feat.”

“Exactly.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “But even strong people get pulled under if they go in alone.”

I nodded slowly.

“You won’t let me go alone, will you?”

“Not a chance,” he said. “You’ll have the whole chaos brigade at your back. Nova with her sage, Bella with her mischievous sass, and Ardetia with her mysterious glow. And me.”

“With your magic?”

“With my magic and my attitude,” he said. He puffed his chest out proudly.

The room warmed again, the magic pulsing softly through the floorboards like the cottage was exhaling with us. The danger hadn’t lessened, but the weight of it felt shared now.

“I won’t forget who I am,” I whispered.

“Good,” Twobble said, his voice firm. “Because Shadowick will try to make you.”

And we both sat there, quiet and still, as the sun dipped low behind the trees and the long night began.