Page 45 of Magical Moonbeam
After a moment, she turned toward the door.
“I’ll leave you to breathe,” she said. “You’ll need it.”
She stepped out with the same grace with which she arrived, her silver cloak flicking once before vanishing around the corner.
The door clicked shut.
The room was quiet again.
And in three nights, everything would change.
Chapter Eleven
The woods behind the Academy were quiet in a way that made the world feel held, like even the birds had agreed to give the moment space. I’d never wandered through the Wilds before on the back of the property. I’d never had a reason to, and quite frankly, things had been busy since I arrived.
Keegan walked beside me. With an unhurried pace, we followed the narrow path that curved through pine and birch.
The trees whispered above us in voices only the wind could understand. Every few steps, lanterns floated just above the mossy ground, and small, glowing orbs that pulsed with a silvery-blue light led us forward like will-o’-the-wisps with good intentions.
If we weren’t about to dip our toes into a world filled with danger, it might almost be considered romantic.
“They’re from Ardetia,” Keegan murmured beside me. “Fae magic. Gentle guiding spells.”
“I figured,” I whispered back. “It’s lovely.”
The deeper we went, the thicker the feeling became—not heavy, butpresent.Like we were being watched, yes… but alsowelcomed. I could feel it brushing against my magic, ancient and kind. The way a long-forgotten book might feel when you open it and find a flower pressed between its pages.
“I can’t believe I didn’t know this was here,” I said softly.
Keegan gave a small nod. “That’s kind of the point. The cemetery wants to be quiet. Not mournful, just… sacred.”
The trees parted like curtain folds. The cemetery opened before us, ringed by low stones sunk in moss. There were no grand crypts, no iron gates.
There were merely rows of aged markers, carved with names and symbols so worn that even magic would have to guess at their meanings.
At the far end of the clearing, a wide weeping willow draped its boughs low, its leaves shimmering faintly with what looked like starlight.
They were all already gathered near the green chapel.
Clusters of candles floated midair in a soft spiral above the center plot. Lady Limora stood near the tree, regal in her midnight-blue gown, dark hair catching the candlelight like a crown.
Maya, Opal, and Vivienne were with her, wearing matching cloaks embroidered with constellations. Stella was perched elegantly on a wide stone bench, legs crossed, tea in hand, chatting animatedly with them as though they were all out for a picnic instead of gathered in a graveyard.
Nova stood off to one side, barefoot, the toes of her boots tucked neatly beside her. She held a deck of cards to her chest like a prayer. Bella was walking the perimeter, touching the old boundary stones as she whispered something to the earth.Ember sat cross-legged on the grass, sketching a series of sigils into the dirt with a stick while Ardetia placed dried flowers along the corners of the clearing.
Twobble was talking to a small group of sprites, gesturing animatedly as he recounted something, probably Skonk-related, given the number of eye rolls, and Skonk himself was nowhere to be seen, which felt oddly suspicious.
As we stepped into the clearing, a hush fell. It wasn’t ominous, but reverent as if the ground knew someone new had entered.
Lady Limora turned toward me. “Maeve. Keegan. Welcome.”
“We didn’t mean to be late,” I said softly.
“You’re right on time,” she replied.
Stella gave a wave with her teacup. “We’ve been catching up on vampire fashion through the centuries. I must say, the 1700s werenotyour best, Opal. I’m glad I didn’t have to deal with that nonsense.”
“I was hibernating,” Opal said dryly.
