Page 217 of Magical Mission
“She’s going to suspect something,” I whispered.
Nova stepped closer and placed her hand over mine. “We could use magic to get her home tonight.”
My heart dropped, but I knew it was the only way.
“Protect the people you care about,” Nova said simply.
This time, we would not let it fall.
Chapter Fifty-One
Saying goodbye to Skye was bittersweet. She’d lent me the bit of normalcy I crave, a taste of my old life. But I craved my new one even more, especially with Celeste forging a new life for herself as well.
I’d done my best at calming my fears and overactive imagination. Her boyfriend was a mundane. She would be safe, and it was better she’d left before I stumbled onto Krina and Mys.
The morning air was unnaturally still.
Sunday in Stonewick was usually slow and soft, bakeries opening late, students slipping into slippers instead of boots, the scent of tea and toasted honeyed bread floating through the halls of the Academy like a blessing. But today, the quiet held a different weight.
I stood just inside the front archway, flanked by Stella, Nova, Keegan, Ember, Twobble, and Frank, who padded in ahead of us with ears high and posture stiff. The light filtering through the windows was pale and clear, but something in the walls felt off. Too tense. Toostill.
“Alright,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “we fan out and sweep every corner, interior and exterior. No assumptions. No shortcuts.”
Keegan gave a crisp nod and moved toward the west wing while Ember headed for the staircase, spellboard already glowing in her hands. Nova disappeared down the back corridor, eyes watchful, while Stella began gently checking the hallways, murmuring protective blessings as she passed each door. Twobble pulled out a crystal he insisted helped him “sniff out bad vibes” and marched toward the library with my dad huffing behind him.
I stood still for a moment longer, listening. The Academy murmured in its usual way, walls shifting softly, windowpanes warming, but underneath, something coiled. Faint. Waiting.
It wasn’t until I reached the central garden that I felt it—the trace. Barely there. A whisper of something cold, threading through the herbs like a second wind. It wasn’t strong enough to trigger the wards, not powerful enough to shape into a presence. But it lingered.
A warning.
But nothing more.
By midmorning, we had regrouped in the main hall. The others reported similar findings: residual traces. A chill in an unused classroom. A flicker of movement in a mirror that didn’t reflect anyone real. Nothing solid. Nothing permanent.
But that was exactly what made it more dangerous.
The students had started to gather by then, drawn in by the shift in energy, or maybe just the quiet tension in our footsteps. I didn’t summon them formally. They came on their own, sensing that something unspoken had begun.
I stepped forward, hands clasped in front of me as the students filled the grand foyer, many of them in slippers and sweaters, teacups still steaming in their hands. They looked around at one another, then at me.
I waited until the room settled. Until even the floor stopped creaking beneath our weight.
“I wish this were just a routine check,” I said gently. “I wish I could tell you there was nothing to worry about. But I made a promise when we reopened this place that we would face the truth, not comfort. So here it is.”
A hush fell deeper over the room. One of the young students shifted closer to Lady Limora, who placed a firm hand on her shoulder.
“As many of you know, since the curse fell upon the Academy and the town of Stonewick, a quiet battle has been brewing between us and a place called Shadowick. And at the center of that darkness is a man named Gideon.”
I paused, scanning the room.
“Most of you have heard whispers. Some of you have seen glimpses of shadow magic, flickering mirrors, and strange distortions near the warded edges of our grounds. Until now, they’ve all been distant.”
My throat tightened, but I kept my voice steady.
“This week, for the first time, two of our students invited a shadow from Shadowick onto Academy grounds.”
The room shifted. Not gasping. Not outrage. But the stillness that comes with slow realization.
