Page 73 of Magical Moonbeam
A gentle knock, more feather than fist, preceded Lemonia Prose, runic arithmetic savant. She carried charts that smelled of pine smoke and apologized for the ink on every fingertip.
“I can show adults why probabilities matter before they blow a hole through the practice yard,” she said shyly. Her only concern? “A classroom with calm acoustics.” I nearly hugged her. It was as if the Academy was doing this for me.
With every contract signed, the day’s schedule thinned. I had teachers, albeit ones needing orientation, and I had charms humming, requiring reinforcement.
What I didn’t have was a moment to breathe.
Twobble arrived, hair dusted with chalk.
“Emergency: Skonk is corralling newcomers in the dining hall for something he’s calling Moonbeam Bingo. The prizes may be cursed. The only reason I know this is that he did the same thing at his sister’s wedding, but it wasn’t called Moonbeam.”
I clenched my teeth together while I gathered my thoughts. “Tell him prizes must contain no maledictions.”
He saluted and dashed off.
I poured fresh tea and forced myself to take a sip. My mom’s last text blinked on my phone.
Checking in, love. How’s Stonewick life? I dare say I miss it.
Celeste’s followed.
Mom, midterms wrap on Friday. Any memory tips? I can’t believe they expect me to remember 167 paintings, along with their exact dates and the artists’ names. Miss you.
Their messages pulsed like soft lanterns of guilt. I typed back quick reassurances first to my mom.
All well here. Teacher avalanche, but good avalanche. Promise a proper call soon. Stay warm.
And then next to my daughter.
Sweetheart, use lavender under your pillow before exams and breathe on every third word. Trust me. Proud of you. Love you more than starlight. Summer is almost here!
I sent both and tucked the device away, heart wrung but lighter.
A knock sounded again, this time quiet and measured. Nova slipped in, raven hair twisted into a dark knot, emerald eyes assessing.
“How many were hired?” she asked.
“Four. And my sanity hovers at seventy percent.”
“So all of them that you interviewed,” she said, approving.
I frowned and laughed. “Come to think of it, why am I even interviewing them? The Academy obviously approved of them long before they arrived.”
“Ah, details.” She laughed, but her voice lowered. “The forge is ready tonight. Ardetia laid the grounding glyphs. You’ll practice holding what must be yours.”
I nodded, fear and relief tangled. “I can’t leak, Nova.”
Her gaze turned knowing. “Your secrets must be woven into you now. The forge will teach you to lock the weave.”
Footsteps thundered in the corridor. Students sprinting toward lunch.
Nova departed as quietly as she’d come, leaving frankincense scent behind.
The afternoon dissolved in charm testing and luminous threads stretched across windows, sigils refreshed where sprites had indeed nibbled. Lainsley proved her worth by charming tin discs into sentinel mirrors; Lara tested levitation nets in the west hall, laughing when Petra’s ivy vines tried to help. Hope flickered in every corner.
But twilight gathered like silk, and I knew I had something I needed to conquer. So much depended on it.
Students drifted to the study halls, their chatter softer now, still curious and still excited, but buoyed by the confident presence of the new instructors.
