Page 57 of Magical Moonbeam
But the feeling didn’t go away.
I rose slowly, careful not to draw attention, and slipped out through the archway near the far hearth. The laughter faded behind me like candlelight down a corridor, replaced by the soft hush of the upper hallways.
The corridor curved gently toward the living quarters, sconces flickering to life as I passed. My boots made no soundon the smooth stone, and yet the moment felt loud. My skin prickled with that same quiet energy.
I turned the corner near my room and stopped.
There, rounding the opposite end of the hall with surprising swiftness, was my grandmother.
Elira.
No longer the solo caretaker anchored to the Academy and wrapped in a life of solitude.
Her silver hair flowed down the back of a deep blue cloak, and her eyes, clear as twilight, locked on mine the instant she saw me.
“Well,” she said with a breathless smile. “I was hoping to catch you before you buried yourself in another round of magical theory and heroic nonsense.”
I blinked. “Grandma?”
“Who else would it be?” she asked, walking forward briskly. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“Would that be so unusual?” I managed.
Elira laughed, full-bodied and unapologetic. “Fair point.”
She reached me, her hands cool but firm as she grasped mine.
“I felt you,” I whispered. “That pull.”
“That was the Academy,” she said softly. “And me, perhaps, riding on its coattails. There’s something I need to talk to you about. Something I’ve remembered.”
The breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding finally slipped free. “Good or bad?”
“Both,” she said. “But maybe not in the ways you’re expecting.”
She glanced toward the door to my room. “Shall we?”
I nodded and opened it, letting us both inside.
My dad lifted his head from the rug, gave a short huff of acknowledgment, and promptly returned to snoring. I understood the sentiment. The day had been long, and yet somehow, I felt it hadn’t really begun until now.
Elira sat by the hearth, conjuring a fire with a flick of her fingers, as if she'd never been absent from this world.
“I’ve been walking the old halls,” she said after a moment. “Listening. The Academy is remembering faster now. Your presence, the students, the Wards… they’re stirring more than just bricks and ivy.”
I sank onto the edge of the bed, watching her. “What does that mean?”
“It means the curse is thinning in places even I didn’t expect. But it also means the past is bleeding through.” She hesitated. “I know now why the Academy shut its doors.”
My heart picked up.
“And?”
Elira met my eyes. “Because we didn’t listen. Not to the land. Not to the warnings. We tried to fix it with power. With certainty. But it was intention that mattered. And that’s what you’re doing differently.”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight. “I’m not sure it’s enough.”
“It will be,” she said, her voice steadier than mine. “Because you’re not doing it alone.”
