Page 7 of Magical Moonbeam
And on some level, it had.
“I keep thinking it’s going to stop feeling like this,” I murmured as we stepped over the threshold. “But it never does.”
Keegan glanced up toward the high, vaulted ceiling, where threads of light danced lazily above our heads like silver ribbons.
Grandma Elira waved from the top of the grand staircase. “Good morning, you two.”
“Morning.” I smiled at her and my dad, standing next to her, on all four paws.
One day, he would be standing taller than she was, but not yet…
Soon, though.
“Feels like a heartbeat,” Keegan said softly. “Alive and steady.”
We didn’t speak as we walked deeper inside the building. The halls, though ancient, gleamed with quiet purpose. Previous students had left behind hints of life, and new students filled the place to the brim.
Shimmering shawls on hooks, purses overflowing with freshly picked wildflowers, and the faint echo of laughter from a distant classroom flooded the air.
“It feels like the Academy is about ready to burst with happiness,” I said as a chalkboard floated past an open doorway.
“It knew it was time.” Keegan nodded.
But this morning, I wasn’t here for classes or dormitory updates.
I was here for answers.
“The library first,” I said. “Moonbeam will be here before we know it, and I only know bits and pieces.”
“I’ll give you some space. You have that look in your eyes.” Keegan nodded and peeled away, but he’d be nearby. He always was.
I walked to the main library, and inside, the light shifted immediately, with a golden spray of a stained-glass forest.
Rows of ancient books lined the towering shelves, some humming softly, others glowing faintly. The familiar hush wrapped around me like an old cardigan, comforting and filled with the scent of pressed petals and ink.
I loved spring in the Midwest.
And then…
A fluttering.
The first book sprite appeared over my shoulder, zipping in a quick, tight loop around my head. A few more joined with nothing more than wisps of translucent color on wings like tissue and eyes far too knowing for something the size of a teacup.
I didn’t flinch. I’d learned better than to swat them away.
“Alright,” I whispered to them. “Show me what I need to know.”
They chirped in unison, a sound like glass wind chimes, then darted toward the back corner of the library to a space I hadn’t yet explored, which wasn’t too unusual considering the scope of the space.
The air shifted as I followed them, cooler but not cold.
The sprites hovered near a narrow spiral staircase, beckoning me upward.
I hesitated.
The staircase wasn’t just old. It wasancient. Its steps were etched with runes I couldn’t read, and the iron railing pulsed faintly with protective magic.
But the sprites waited, patient and persistent.
