Page 56 of Magical Moonbeam
Twobble walked over. “Wouldn’t leave it.”
Of course, he had.
I scratched behind my dad’s ears and finally stood, the weight of him still leaning against my leg. The others had walked ahead now. Twobble and Skonk bickered. Nova and Ardetia were deep in quiet discussion. And Stella floated toward the tea pavilion as if nothing had happened.
But I lingered, taking in the sight of the Academy once more.
The students.
The sky.
The Wards were humming like old lullabies.
“I have to win,” I said aloud.
Keegan didn’t ask what I meant. He just nodded once.
And that was enough.
We turned toward the doors.
And walked forward into the last calm before the Moonbeam.
Chapter Fourteen
The banquet hall shimmered with warmth and laughter, where midlife students gathered like old friends at a harvest feast. Spiced cider steamed in goblets beside heavy ceramic plates, each one piled high with roasted vegetables, flaky cheese pies, and soft, buttered rolls that seemed to replenish themselves the moment they were emptied.
Ember had tucked a sprig of rosemary behind one ear and was animatedly trying to convince a skeptical group of witches that her magical cleaning shortcut didn’t result in any more explosions than necessary. Nova lounged at the far end of the hall with a tarot card in one hand and a baked apple in the other, her laughter joining the gentle clinking of silverware and floating candles.
And the gossip.
Life was back to normal inside these walls as it should be.
"Did you hear Skonk enchanted a hallway to whisper everyone's names in alphabetical order for five hours?"
"He said it was a strategic auditory symphony," one student giggled.
"Twobble nearly threw him out a window."
"Again."
I smiled into my mug of cider, the sweetness tingling along my tongue. Despite the chaos, or maybe because of it, everything felt more alive than it had in weeks. The students glowed from within, not magically, just joyfully. They were learning, thriving, reclaiming their magic and purpose in a world that had once told them they were too late.
But beneath all that light and bustle, a quiet thread pulled at me.
A tingle.
A flicker.
A delicate ripple of warmth spread across my butterfly birthmark.
I froze, my fingers tightening slightly around the curve of my mug. It wasn’t a warning. It wasn’t pain. Just… a presence.
A soft knowing.
Like being gently summoned.
I scanned the room. Nothing obvious. The Wards were intact. The students were safe.
