Page 42 of Magical Mission
The bells hadn’t rung yet. The rest of the Academy still slept, or at least pretended to, but I couldn’t.
I needed to walk. To breathe. To make sure the building still felt…safe.
It was quiet when I opened my bedroom door and stepped into the corridor. The lanterns along the walls still dimmed for pre-dawn.
My dad padded beside me, silent except for the occasional sniff and huff.
The dream clung to the corners of my mind like cobwebs. I kept brushing it away, but it stuck. The way my heart had pounded in sleep and the way I’d jolted awake. It had happened before.
Gideon had found a way in, even if it was just through my dreams.
And that scared me more than I wanted to admit.
Because dreams were doorways.
And doorways could be opened, especially by someone who had always known how to slip between things.
But what scared me worse was that in my heart, I knew I might be the one reaching out to him, to his realm.
As I turned down the corridor toward the old atrium, I let my hand trail along the wall. The stones were warm here as the magic held strong.
But I didn’t know for how long.
We had students, now.
Teachers. A heartbeat.
But the curse hadn’t broken yet, and while Stonewick was strengthening, it wasn’t ready yet.
The Wards still needed to strengthen, and we were merely on the first step.
I reached the window at the end of the hall and pressed my hand against the cool glass. Outside, the garden shimmered with early light, and the Butterfly Ward glowed faintly in the distance like a memory of safety. Seeing it thrive again was something I needed, but it also showed how frail everything still was while the Academy was strengthening.
My dad sat at my feet, letting out a low, thoughtful grumble.
“I know,” I whispered. “He’s close. Too close.”
And though the sun hadn’t completely risen, I stood there and watched the horizon because today wasn’t just the first day of class.
It was the first day ofeverything.
And I had no idea what that would bring.
I opened my bedroom door, and the last thing I expected to see was a stack of neatly folded papers sitting just outside.
It was as if the Academy never slept, or perhaps its extensive connection to sprites and otherworldly beings made it feel that way.
I blinked sleep from my eyes, crouched down, and picked up the bundle.
Dozens of thick parchment sheets tied with a thin lavender ribbon, still slightly warm as if they’d been hot off the printer, felt like a gift that I didn’t have to wrestle with.
I turned the top page over and immediately recognized the careful looping script.
Student Schedules.
My eyebrows lifted with relief.
All I had hoped for was that students would head in the right direction today, but this made it wonderfully official, and I could at least pretend to know what I was doing.
