Page 106 of Magical Mission
And that was what unsettled me most now.
Because evil didn’t mourn.
And Gideon had mourned something that day.
Maybe still did.
I ran my fingers over the stitching on the edge of the quilt, tracing the worn fabric absentmindedly.
I didn’t trust him. Not for a second.
But I couldn’t stop wondering—what drove him to this?
Was it power?
Was it anger?
Or was it something worse?
Was it loss?
And if it was…
Whohad taken something from him?
And why did he blame Stonewick?
I reached for the orb again, but it stayed dim.
Silent. It had given me all it could for now, so I stared at it and asked aloud, softly, “What happened to him?”
The room didn’t answer, but my gut whispered something I didn’t want to admit.
That maybe this wasn’t about him at all.
Maybe Gideon wasn’t the one behind Stonewick’s fractures.
Maybe he’dbeen used, just like the woman in the orb, or maybe he’d been twisted into something cruel by something far older.
Far colder.
Shadowick.
The name tasted wrong in my mind, like something foul wrapped in sugar.
The dark space that always seemed to exist just outside Stonewick’s magic. The place no one spoke of directly, except in the dreams I knew weren’t really mine.
Shadowick was more than a village, a person, or a myth.
It was a presence.
A pull.
A hunger.
And what if that’s what had gotten to Gideon?
What if, in trying to reach something once lost, he’d been dragged too far into the dark? What if he’d been a tool all along—apawnin something deeper, more ancient?
