Page 6 of Goody Magic Academy: Year Three

It felt like I was in a magical dungeon with dark things lurking in the shadows, feeding off my energy. Even though I wanted to rest, I pushed forward. I had to. I broke into a jog, trying to get to the end of the tunnel before the torches died.

But the tunnel stretched on and on with no end in sight. I slowed my pace, my sides aching. As I tried to catch my breath, I cautiously trailed my fingers along the walls. I expected to find rough stone, but instead, they were surprisingly smooth. My breath hitched as I noticed a subtle shimmer under my touch. The walls sparkled as if dusted with countless microscopic diamonds, each one catching and reflecting the flickering torchlight. It was a sight so precise and perfect that it was impossible for human hands to have crafted it. It was clearly the work of magic.

As I continued down the passage, I found myself pondering the nature of the magic that had created this ethereal tunnel. Was it dark magic, its beauty a deceptive lure? Or was it white magic, its sparkle a beacon of hope in this gloomy place? The contrast was striking—the walls were like something out of a Disney movie, all wonder and enchantment. But the cold, chilling air that seeped into my bones, making me shiver uncontrollably, was pure Grimm’s Fairytales—foreboding and sinister.

Perhaps, I mused, hugging myself for warmth, it didn’t matter whether the magic itself was inherently good or bad. Maybe what truly was important was the intent of the user. After all, even the most beautiful magic could be twisted for nefariouspurposes, and the darkest spells were sometimes wielded for good in the right hands.

The idea gave me pause. I thought of the high priestess, of Jaxon, of the father I’d never known. How many shades of gray existed in their use of magic? How many, for that matter, in my own?

The sparkles winked at me, privy to secrets I couldn’t fathom. I pressed on, each step filling me with contradictory feelings—surrounded by beauty yet filled with dread, moving toward an uncertain future guided by the remnants of ancient magic I didn’t even understand.

A dark thought crept into my mind, and my steps slowed. What if Jaxon was actually leading me into a trap, and at the other end of this tunnel the high priestess and the Bloodborne Brotherhood were waiting for me? I scanned the walls for another opening and ran my fingers over them, but there wasn’t so much as a bump.

Maybe I would stand a better chance against them if I shifted into my dragon. But as I reached deep within myself, searching for that familiar spark of magic so I could transform, I still felt...nothing.

Panic rising in my throat, I tried again. I envisioned scales emerging across my skin and wings unfurling from my back, but my body remained stubbornly human. My muscles tensed and trembled with the effort, but refused to change. It was as if an invisible force was smothering my innate power, same as when I had been back in the cell.

“What is this?” I hissed, frustration and fear mingling in my voice. This tunnel wasn’t just dark—it was wrong. The very air seemed to pulse with malevolent energy, pressing in on me from all sides.

I took a shaky breath, forcing myself to think. If I couldn’t rely on my dragon form, I’d have to fall back on my otherskills. Perhaps my witch’s magic might still work, even if my shapeshifting abilities were suppressed? Focusing my will, I summoned a small orb of light to my palm.

The orb sputtered weakly, barely illuminating my immediate surroundings. But it showed me enough to confirm my suspicions. Dark, oily symbols were etched into the walls at regular intervals, pulsing with a sickly purple glow. The place was warded against transformation magic.

“Clever,” I muttered, a grudging respect for the high priestess mixing with my growing unease.

I’d have to be twice as clever as she if I wanted to make it out of here alive. I’d need to rely on my wits, my limited witch’s magic, and whatever I could scrounge from this hostile environment. I was ill-prepared to face the dangers ahead in my vulnerable human form, but I had no choice but to press on, hoping to find the source of this dark magic and a way to break its hold over me.

I took a deep breath and continued forward. My pace was slow and deliberate. I might not be able to shift into my dragon, but I could draw on my dragon’s senses. My senses of smell and eyesight were vastly superior to a human’s.

As I made my way down the tunnel, I noticed the air became less musty, carrying a faint scent I couldn’t quite place. My fingers trailed along the rough-hewn walls, cool and slightly damp. The sound of my footsteps echoed softly, but another noise suddenly caught my attention— a rhythmic tapping, barely audible yet even and persistent. I paused, holding my breath. Was it coming from up ahead?

Squinting, I thought I could make out a door at the end, its outline faintly illuminated by an unseen source. My heart raced as I approached. Was this the door with the cat engraving? And who—or what—would be waiting for me on the other side?

The tapping grew louder, more insistent. I stopped, drawing on every ounce of courage I possessed. Was it real? Or was it some kind of magic?

My heart pounded as I glanced around the tunnel.Can’t stay here.The air crackled with residual magical energy, raising goosebumps on my arms.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. The sound echoed throughout the tunnel, each tap sending a jolt through my body. Knock, knock. Who’s there?

Stay focused. Don’t panic. You have to escape and come back to save your father.

The thought pierced through my fear, spurring me into action. Was he in pain, or being tortured? The idea gnawed at my gut.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound grew more and more insistent. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I eyed the door nervously. Only one person could tell me for sure about Father—Mom. But she lay comatose, her mind as unreachable as if she were at the bottom of the sea.

I remembered how Professor Eastey and his wife Louise had looked so pale and still in their beds at the Enchanted Eldercare Center. They had supposedly been in a car crash, but I knew better. Panic gripped my lungs tighter and tighter as I connected the dots. I could easily end up like them, not to mention Mom and Dad. The high priestess’ enemies had a habit of vanishing into thin air or falling into comas.

TAP. TAP. TAP.

I flinched at the increased volume, my muscles coiling, ready to fight or fly. How many? I wondered, a knot forming in my stomach. How many of the supernatural elite support her?

Dread rose in my throat. I swallowed hard, my jaw set with determination. She had to be stopped. Whatever it took, I wouldfind the truth and put an end to the high priestess’ reign of terror.

BANG!

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