Page 47 of Magical Moonbeam
“My hat,” Skonk said, flicking his embroidered vest with an air of dramatic flair, “is a cultural artifact andwill notbe slandered by your mediocrity.”
I stood at the crest of the hill, arms crossed, trying not to smile. They were ridiculous. They were chaotic.
But they were getting it right.
Around us, the glimmering facsimile of Shadowick was taking shape, eerily close to my own memories.
Illusions twisted into crooked streets and leaning buildings, conjured alleys stretched into mist and candlelight, and spell-bound lamps flickered in ghostly harmony with the light of the Wards. It wasn’t just visual. Itfeltlike the Hedge, the strange, between-world sensation I’d wandered into during dreams and waking slips of magic alike.
“It’s matching,” I murmured to myself.
Keegan stood beside me, arms loose at his sides, but alert as always. “It’s real enough to fool someone who’s been there.”
I turned to him. “I never described it to them, but it matches what I’ve experienced with way more detail.”
My eyes drifted back to the field. I could see the crooked turret from my dreams, tilted, like it leaned just to listen better. A narrow alley I’d wandered once in a Hedge-walk had just appeared to my left, with a single flickering sign above a shop door I swore I’d passed before.
It was breathtaking and unsettling all at once.
“You’re welcome,” Skonk said, appearing suddenly at my elbow like a goblin-shaped shadow. “This level of architecturalgenius does not happen without years of goblin reconnaissance and a little artistic flair.”
Before I could respond, Twobble muttered from above, “I swear on all that is mossy, I will charm your vest to unravel one thread at a time.”
“Please.”
Before it could escalate into another full-scale goblin duel, Nova glided into the space between them, her calm presence like a wave of warm air across a frozen lake.
“Gentlemen,” she said, placing one hand lightly on each of their shoulders. “Let’s remember that perimeter alignment requiresfocused intention.Not feisty banter and magical threats.”
Skonk gave a theatrical sigh. “Intention is so drab without flair.”
Nova offered a tight smile. “So is spell collapse.”
That shut them both up.
She released her touch and let a soft green pulse of energy settle into the earth. The wards shimmered visibly in response, calming under her guidance like a child soothed from a tantrum.
A blur of russet darted past the far edge of the cemetery, and I turned just in time to catch a glimpse of Bella in her fox form, sleek, glowing faintly under the moonlight as she loped through the misty edge of the conjured Shadowick. Her presence was fluid, quiet, and watchful. She was checking the edges, ensuring nothing slipped in or out that wasn’t invited.
“She volunteered,” Nova said, joining me again. “Said it was time she let instinct lead.”
I smiled faintly. “It suits her.”
We stood side by side for a moment, watching the village build itself. Not brick by brick, but memory by memory.
“This isn’t just an illusion,” I whispered. “It’s… remembering.”
Nova didn’t reply right away, just raised her hand and passed it through a lantern suspended mid-air. It flickered with a twist of gold and shadow.
“Magic doesn’t always need instruction,” she said. “Sometimes it just needs permission.”
A lump caught in my throat. I wasn’t sure if it was awe, dread, or both.
The conjured village was a mirror, and the longer I looked, the more certain I became. It wasn’t guessing. Itknew.
I saw a shadowed well appear at the far end of a crooked square. I’d dreamed of it. Walked by it once in a Hedge-vision. The stones had spoken in those dreams, whispered in half languages. Now it was here.
“It shouldn’t be this real,” I murmured.
