Page 138 of Magical Moonbeam
And I remembered.
Not here. Not in this cursed, fog-choked village.
But below the Academy, in the sacred warmth of the unnamed, their den lives. The silver-scaled one with sea-glass eyes had spoken in a voice I hadn’t heard with my ears, but had felt down to the edges of my bones.
When the Moonbeam bends low and the Veil thins, what is anchored in truth will hold. What is rooted in fear will crack.
I’d repeated those words to myself before sleep. While stirring tea. While training my mind to protect memory.
But only now did I truly feel them settle.
It is not a tool. It is a mirror. It does not create light. It reveals it.
And if that was true, then I had to strip the fear from my body like a ruined cloak. Because the Moonbeam wouldn’t show me what I wanted to be.
It would show me who I was.
If I carried fear, that’s what it would reflect.
I took a slow breath, still staring at Celeste. Her boyfriend,Darren, touched her lower back lightly as they passed beneath one of the broken gas lamps. She laughed at something he said, then looked over her shoulder for me.
My daughter.
Bright and curious and entirely unaware that she’d wandered into a battlefield made of memory, magic, and history soaked in blood.
No. This wasn’t about legacy anymore. Not just the curse. Not just the divide between towns. Not just broken Wards or the ancient creatures who whispered truths in the dark.
This was abouther.
Keeping her safe.
Getting herout.
I couldn’t burn for every cause. But I would burn for this one.
Gideon stepped closer to my side, still looking forward. “Do you know what I find most interesting about you, Maeve?”
I didn’t answer. I was afraid I’d hit him if I did.
“You always act like you’re barely holding on. But you don’t break. You twist. You adapt. Youbend. That makes you dangerous.”
“That makes mehuman,” I said.
He hummed in response. “Maybe. Or maybe you were always something more.”
I shook my head. “Stop talking like you know me.”
“I do. Better than you think.” He paused. “The Moonbeam knows you, too.”
I let my gaze sweep the street, absorbing every detail, from the unnatural stillness to the way light refused to cling to the edges of the windows, and the distant flicker of shadow dancers curling through alleyways like smoke. My fingers twitched toward the pouch at my hip. I could feel the magic there, steady and humming.
But no charm was going to save us tonight.
“Don’t project your obsession onto the moon,” I muttered. “It doesn’t belong to you.”
His smile faltered then. Just slightly. “No. But it’s watching.”
“Good,” I said. “Because I’ve got something to show it.”
