Page 100 of Magical Mission
“But I didn’t just find it. I was led to it.”
“No,” she said. “Itfoundyou. And not everything that finds you has your best interest in mind.”
My hands curled into fists at my sides.
“Grandma,” I said, quieter now. “If something’s coming, something that already bent the circle, don’t I have a right to know what it is?”
She didn’t answer because she didn’t have to, because she was already fading.
It wasn’t visually or in a flash of light or shimmer of air, but in presence.
The way the magic dims when the candle burns low.
“Grandma—”
“Trust yourself,” she said. “But not everything that feels like destiny is meant for you. And not every warning comes in time.”
And then she left.
The aisle was empty, but the box still hummed.
And I was left staring at it, more certain than ever that whatever was inside it had been waiting a long, long time to come to light.
And now it had foundme.
I didn’t realize how tightly I was holding the box until my fingers ached.
I moved it close to my chest, wrapped in its worn violet fabric, and moved quickly through the quieter library corridors and into the upper passageways where students rarely wandered. My breath came fast, not from exertion but from the weight of what I carried, and ofwhat it might mean.
The Academy, bless it, didn’t fight me. Its halls opened before me without protest, doors easing aside, stairs uncreaking, lanterns glowing a fraction warmer like they knew something fragile was in motion.
I didn’t look back, but not because I wasn’t afraid my grandma might reappear.
But because I was more afraid of what I’d see in her eyes if she did.
Halfway to my room, I heard it.
A soft shuffle came up behind me, with the unmistakable snort of an English bulldog.
I turned the corner and there he was. My dad was plodding along like a shaggy guardian who didn’t need to be asked.
And trailing just behind him, eyes narrowed, arms full of scrolls, and breathless with anticipation, Twobble.
He stopped short when he spotted me. “Oh. Itwasyou. I thought I was imagining that suspicious sprint zip by.”
I didn’t answer right away. My arms were trembling, though I hoped it didn’t show.
Twobble blinked at the bundle in my hands. “What’s that?”
“Something I wasn’t supposed to find,” I said, breath shallow. “But did anyway.”
Frank gave a low, curious bark and thumped his rear against my shin in greeting.
Twobble tilted his head. “Do I need to be worried?”
I looked at him, really looked, at his mismatched buttons for vest closures that he’d recently started sporting, and his eternally ink-stained fingers found more secrets than anyone knew what to do with.
“No,” I said, opening the door to my quarters. “But I’d welcome the company. If you’re not busy?”
