Page 162 of Magical Mission
A vast, circular clearing formed beneath a sky that shimmered gold and gray at once, like dawn caught in hesitation. Four paths split outward from the center like the points of a compass, each one lined with a soft, pulsing glow.
At the center stood a pedestal made of dark stone, smooth as still water. On it, a single object lay: a piece of parchment, blank and waiting.
But what caught me first wasn’t the paths.
It was the figures standing in each.
Familiar.
Unnervingly so.
To my left, down the first path, stood Celeste.
She looked exactly as I remembered—jeans, cozy sweater, wind-tossed hair, a soft smile that crinkled her eyes. Her hands were outstretched, palms up.
“Come home,” she said. “Rest. Let go for just a while. You don’t have to carry everything.”
The ache in my chest swelled.
My daughter.
The part of me that craved softness, safety, and connection. The life that wasn’t laced with spells and prophecy.
To the right, down the second path, stood Keegan.
Strong, steady, hands tucked in his jacket pockets. His eyes were serious, but not cold. He said nothing. He didn’t need to. The promise was in the way he stood—unmoving, ready. A force of support I could lean on. His presence pulsed like a heartbeat:With you. Always.
Strength. Loyalty. Grounding.
To the far edge of the third path stood Gideon.
Of all of them, he was the only one I didn’t expect.
He stood just outside the glow, half in shadow, his blue eyes glinting with something I couldn’t name. Not a menace. Not safety. Just…knowing.
“I can tell you why it all happened,” he said, voice low, coaxing. “Why the shimmer grew. Why the circles break. Why your magic aches when you look at me. You want answers, don’t you?”
And I did.
Oh, how I did.
The mystery. The pain. The weight of all the why and how that had never been given shape. He offered them like a gift I wasn’t sure I could refuse.
And then—
Behind me, the fourth path pulsed.
But no figure stood there.
Instead, the Academy itself rose in ghostly silhouette, with its towers glimmering like starlight, its arches folding and unfolding like breath. And though it didn’t speak, Ifeltits offering.
Possibility.
Legacy.
Responsibility.
And something else I didn’t quite understand. Perhaps a need or a hunger, even but not malicious. Just ancient. As though the Academy itself was unfinished, reaching for something only I could give, but had yet to define.
