Page 119 of Magical Moonbeam
No matter how many times I’d seen it in dreams or illusions, nothing prepared me for the way it loomed here, massive, silent, mostly consumed by ivy that curled like talons around its stone bones.
It was set back behind a wrought-iron fence and a path lined with crooked hedges. The windows were all dark, but I somehow felt watched, as if the house itself had eyes.
My steps slowed, and my breath clouded before me. I reached for the edge of my magic without drawing too much attention. Just enough to anchor me.
I was almost to the gate when the air behind me changed.
I didn’t hear him, but I felt him.
The weight and the cold enveloped me, pulling me in all directions.
The way the shadows lengthened with something more than fog.
I didn’t turn. Not yet. I couldn’t let him see how much my fingers trembled.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” said a voice I hadn’t heard with my ears in days, but had heard in my dreams for far too long.
Gideon.
It was smoother than it should’ve been. There was no overt threat in his tone, just warmth bleeding onto a sharp blade.
I turned slowly.
He looked the same and entirely different. Handsome in the way danger often was with his dark coat, blue eyes, and thatsmile that never quite reached his gaze. His presence made the space feel tighter and colder. But not dead. Not this time.
He stepped forward, hands behind his back like we were about to take a stroll.
“Did you come to understand me again?” he asked, voice rich with mockery.
I lifted my chin. “No. I came to end it.”
His smile grew. “Brave.”
I swallowed hard and let the words settle. The last time I’d spoken with him like this, I hadn’t been sure what was real. Now I was certain, and I knew what was at stake. I had to hold my ground. I had to be more than brave.
I had to be right.
“You can feel it, can’t you?” he asked, voice low. “The way this place answers to you now. As if it’s been waiting.”
“I don’t want it,” I said. “I don’t want your darkness.”
He tilted his head. “But it wants you.”
The fog thickened between us, coiling at our feet like a living thing.
I didn’t move.
Neither did he.
Because this was only the beginning.
Chapter Thirty
“I understand what it feels like,” I said quietly.
His brows rose, ever so slightly. “Do you?”
“To be on the outside,” I continued. “To walk through your own life like a stranger. As if you’re speaking a language no one else seems to understand. I was married to someone who made me feel that way for years.”
