Page 164 of Magical Moonbeam
No one else in the foyer seemed to notice.
Good.
“She’ll be alright,” I said quietly.
Keegan shifted closer. “So long as we are too.”
Bella was already back, Ardetia trailing her with a glowing protective stone in hand.
“First batch of students made it to the grove,” Bella said.
“Second batch’s on the way,” Ardetia added. “But it’s getting harder to weave.”
“Why?” I asked.
Ardetia’s eyes flicked toward the western corridor. “Something’s moving in the walls. I can feel it pressing against the spells.”
Stella swept into the foyer, her cloak trailing mist. “Same on the east wing. The magic’s twitchy.”
“We need to start the search,” I said. “Before we lose our chance to find where he is.”
I looked at the others. “We split into three groups. Bella and Ardetia, you take the East Wing. Stella and Lady Limora—South corridors. Keegan and I will go West. Mara, Opal, and Vivienne,I want you above us, watching from the rafters. And do what vampires do when they see trouble.”
We moved out.
The deeper we walked, the colder it became as if the warmth of the Academy’s heart was retreating from the edges.
In the West Wing, candlelight flickered in unpredictable gusts. Paintings stared longer than they should have. One even twitched.
Unreadable clues.
“I hate him,” I muttered, thinking about him dragging my daughter into this.
“Hate is too hard to control,” Keegan whispered. “Just dislike him strongly. Works for me.”
I chuckled as we stepped around a warped corridor, our shoes clicking softly against mosaic floors that had once hummed with student laughter.
Now it just echoed.
The shadows in the corners stretched longer than they should have. Every torchlight cast shapes that felt too dense, too aware.
Keegan touched my arm. “Look.”
At the end of the hallway, a door stood ajar.
A faint glow pulsed from inside. Not warm. Not inviting.
I nodded.
We moved in silence.
I reached the door first and slowly pushed it open. Inside, what had once been a simple storage room was now layered in thin, gauzy filaments of black.
They pulsed with something like breath.
“Do you feel that?” I whispered.
Keegan nodded grimly. “Magic. Old. But not natural.”
