Page 91 of Magical Moonbeam
“Nova?” I asked, turning back to face her fully. “Besides my wild, possibly delusional hope that Gideon might suddenly find a conscience… are there spells I should be learning? Anything that could break the curse?”
Nova’s hands stilled. The last card she held paused mid-shuffle.
The quiet that followed wasn’t her usual measured silence.
It was heavy and deliberate.
Finally, she looked up. “There are spells,” she said. “But not the kind you’ll find in any book.”
I stepped back into the room. “That’s vague. Even for you.”
She smiled faintly. “That’s because the truth is vague, Maeve. Gideon’s curse is old. Older than we thought. I’ve been researching every angle through the archives, through the memory forge, even asking a few contacts outside Stonewick. But nothing I’ve found is clean. His spellwork was layered, built not just from magic, but intent. Shadow-fed. Soul-bound.”
I sank into the cushion again, this time slower, the weight of her words pushing down on me. “So you’re saying it can’t be broken.”
“I’m saying it won’t break easily. But nothing is impossible. Moonbeam will give us a chance. Maybe only one. If we prepare the right way…”
I swallowed. “What kind of magic are we talking about? Blood magic? Soul binding?”
Nova’s mouth tightened. “Worse, in some ways. It’s magic fueled by memory. Emotion. It roots itself into people and places, feeding off history until it can’t be pulled apart without unraveling everything around it.”
My breath caught. “That’s why the Academy shut down.”
She nodded. “That’s why it fractured. Why your father, why so many of us, got left behind.”
“And if I go into Shadowick… if I face Gideon…”
Nova met my eyes. “Then you need more than spells. You need anchors. You need control. And you need to understand that breaking a curse like this could cost something.”
A cold prickle ran along my arms. “Like what?”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached for one final card and turned it over between us.
The Hanged Man.
Sacrifice. Surrender. A shift in perspective.
“You’re already willing to face him,” she said gently. “But you need to decide now, how far are you willing to go to set things right?”
I looked at the card.
The man hanging upside down wasn’t in pain. He wasn’t bound. He’d chosen to be there and chosen to give up something for a higher purpose.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
And that was the truth of it. I didn’t know what I’d give, or what would be taken.
Nova placed the card in front of me like an offering.
“When the Moonbeam falls,” she said, “you’ll have your answer.”
I didn’t speak.
I couldn’t.
Somewhere deep in the belly of the Academy, the walls shifted, stone adjusting, windows settling into place. The air stirred like breath across my skin.
I picked up the card.
