Page 108 of Magical Mission
Not just the edge of the Academy, but thetrueHedge. The realm between realms. The place that whispers through the cracks when no one else listens.
The place where hedge witches were born to walk.
I’d heard the warnings.
How it twisted time. How it scrambled your memory. How it changed you if you stayed too long? The hedge wasn’t a place for comfort or certainty.
But I wasn’t sure certainty was a luxury I could afford anymore.
What if this magic, this mystery, wasn’t meant to be solved from the safety of the Academy?
What if the answers I needed weren’t buried in old books or flickering orbs?
What if I weremeantto cross over?
The idea sent a slow chill across my shoulders, but it didn’t feel like fear. Not exactly.
It felt like a calling.
I had walked the threshold once.
I had seen the echo of the past and the pull of something larger than Gideon or even Stonewick.
What if traveling the realms wasn’t just part of being a hedge witch?
What if it was the only way to stop what was coming?
I swallowed hard and looked toward the window.
And something, deep and old, whispered,Soon.
Chapter Twenty-Five
It was time to get the students into the village of Stonewick. Stella announced the trip before I arrived, and dinner ended with laughter and leftover rolls being enchanted to sing off-key lullabies, much to the kitchen sprites’ dismay.
The students were rosy-cheeked, bellies full, slinging arms around each other as they wandered back to their wings, buzzing about the field trip like they’d already begun packing. Stella gave out little paper pouches of lemon balm to anyone who looked even remotely anxious about leaving the grounds, which meant most of them.
For a while, it felt like everything might be all right.
I lingered near the hearth after the meal, sipping spiced cider with Twobble while my dad sprawled like a shaggy rug under a bench. The students had gone, and the hall had thinned to a hush. Stella had slipped away to prepare her shop for tomorrow. Bella had left in fox form, slipping through the garden like a ribbon of light. Even Keegan hadn’t returned from town yet, though I wasn’t worried. He liked to stay at his house rather than the Academy.
I was standing near the great windows, looking out into the lavender-gray dusk of the courtyard, when it happened.
Not loudly.
Not even visibly.
Just a shift that makes your skin prickle before your thoughts catch up.
The flame in the lantern nearest me flickered twice, then flared, not with light, but shadow. It snuffed itself out entirely.
Twobble looked up. “Did you feel that?”
I nodded, setting down my mug.
My dad lifted his head, ears twitching.
Another lantern died—then another.
