Page 174 of Magical Moonbeam
“I have to warn Grandma Elira,” I said, rising shakily.
Nova helped me up. “Are you strong enough?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I don’t have a choice.”
Keegan stepped beside me and took my hand.
“You’re not going alone.”
His presence steadied me more than he could possibly know.
“Let’s go,” I said.
Because if Gideon had seen even a glimmer of what lay beneath the Academy.
Of whatsleptthere…
Then we had more than the curse to worry about.
We had dragons.
Magic hummed in the walls like it was holding its breath, and I realized too late that it wasn’t anticipation. It was warning. Every stone, every shadow, every pulse of light inside the Academy had turned brittle and sharp, like the bones of something ancient waking under our feet.
Keegan and I turned the corner just as the last shimmer of the Moonbeam fractured across the vaulted ceiling. The silver light flickered once, twice, and then bled into the stone like water soaking into cloth.
It was nearly over.
“No,” I whispered.
Keegan slowed beside me, eyes narrowing at the darkening air. “What is it?”
The Moonbeam was almost gone.
Dissolving.
And the curse? Still intact. Still wrapped around the Academy like a noose, no one could find the end of.
“I thought we had more time,” I said, stumbling to a stop. My hand pressed against the stone wall, but it didn’t answer me the way it used to. It just… hummed. Tired. Hollow.
Keegan’s hand was on my back instantly. “Maeve.”
“The Moonbeam,” I said. “It’s almost over. And we haven’t broken it. The curse is stillhere.”
He didn’t speak.
Because there wasn’t anything to say.
We both turned toward the far end of the hallway as a gust of cold air curled through it like a serpent. The torches dimmed. The hair on my arms lifted. The last lingering threads of the Moonbeam shimmered weakly over the stones, like veins fading from a dying thing.
And then we heard it.
Footsteps.
Light. Measured. Mocking.
A flicker of shadow stepped out from the wall ahead of us, not fully solid, not entirely gone. It was a shape that wore the suggestion of Gideon like a coat. The sliver I’d battled earlier had returned, and this time, it brought with it something colder.Clearer.
Not rage.
