Page 105 of Magical Mayhem
I forced my breath steady, my pulse a hammer in my throat. This was the moment I had been building toward, whether I was ready or not. If Malore wanted a show, then we would give him one.
“Everyone, listen!” My voice cut through the murmurs, sharp and sure. The crowd stilled, hundreds of eyes turning toward me, waiting.
“Shadows feed on fear,” I said, raising my chin. “But fear isn’t failure. Fear means youcare.Fear means you’re alive. And every weakness you think you carry, every flaw, every doubt, is the thread that will make Stonewick stronger.”
The murmurs hushed further. Students leaned in. Even the sprites, frozen midair, slowly tilted their heads.
I seized the moment.
“We are not hiding inside the Academy walls today. We are standing together in the open, where Malore can see us. So, we are going to use what he thinks are our weaknesses as our strengths. That is how Stonewick fights.”
My gaze swept the air, finding familiar faces. “Those of you who struggle to see clearly where your path is headed, join Nova. She is our seer, our anchor in the shifting fog. Divinatory practices will give you clarity and focus when shadows try to confuse you.”
Nova inclined her head gracefully, stepping forward from the edge of the crowd. Her raven-dark hair shimmered, her staff gleaming faintly. The students turned toward her, their shoulders loosening at the sight of her calm, unshakable presence.
“Those of you who fear losing touch with the earth beneath your feet,” I went on, my voice growing stronger, “those of you who feel rootless or too easily shaken, join Ardetia. Her connection to nature will remind you that the land itself stands with us. That Stonewick has not abandoned you.”
Ardetia lifted her hand, and the vines along the fountain stirred, green shoots curling upward as if to greet her. Her hair caught the lantern light, and students drifted toward her instinctively, comforted by her glow.
I turned, scanning the faces. “If your fear is that your magic is too unpredictable, that it slips away from you or lashes out at the wrong time, seek Bella. She knows better than anyone how to trust instinct, how to balance control and mischief. What you see as chaos, she will show you is cunning.”
Bella, still in her fox form, gave a sharp yip, then shifted smoothly into her human self, her tail swishing once before vanishing. She grinned, sharp and playful, and raised a hand. Several students hurried her way, relief etched on their faces.
“And for those of you who think your past defines you,” I said, my throat tightening, “for those who believe mistakes cannot be redeemed, seek Ember. She carries memory with grace. She will teach you that what haunts you does not chain you. It fuels you.”
Ember glowed faintly where she hovered near the far bench, her form steady and translucent. She inclined her head, her softsmile like a lantern in fog. A wave of students moved toward her, shoulders easing, as if their ghosts had grown a little quieter.
“And for those of you who feel your magic is too small, too ordinary, those who fear you don’t have enough to offer, go to Stella.”
I caught her eye where she sat near the fountain, her shawl draped dramatically as always. She gave a sharp sniff, but her scarlet lips curved into a smile as she rose.
“Stella knows the strength of everyday magic,” I continued. “Her folk practices, amulets, teas, and simple spells remind us that the smallest things can steady the heart. What some call plain, she will show you is powerful.”
Several students shifted, relieved, as though I had given them permission to believe that what they carried mattered too. Stella preened, of course, but there was pride in her eyes as she guided them over.
“And those of you who crave structure, who want order in the chaos of your magic, join Lemonia. She excels in runes, in symbols, in the languages written into the bones of the world. She will teach you to carve clarity where there is confusion, and strength where there is doubt.”
Lemonia raised her hand in acknowledgment, her calm presence drawing another cluster of students forward.
I lifted my chin, sweeping the entire crowd with my gaze. “Every doubt you’ve carried, every weakness you’ve believed yourself cursed by, today, it becomes your strength. Today, we stand together. Today, we show Malore that Stonewick does not break.”
The courtyard buzzed with motion, students grouping around their chosen instructors. Their fear didn’t vanish, but itchanged shape. It sharpened into determination, into something they could hold and shape instead of something gnawing at them from within.
The ground hummed under my boots, louder now, as if feeding off the energy.
Above us, the face twisted. Malore’s grin faltered. The shadows curled tighter around the sky, swirling like smoke trapped in a glass.
The air turned colder. My breath came out in faint mist.
And then the face’s mouth opened, stretching wider and wider until it split into words.
“You think this is strength?” The voice reverberated, deep and jagged, shaking the windows of the Academy. Students flinched, some clutching at one another. But I stood tall, with my dad on one side and Keegan on the other.
Malore’s laughter rolled through the courtyard, scraping along my spine. “Weaklings clinging to one another in the dark. That is not strength. That is desperation.”
“Maybe,” I called back, forcing my voice steady, though my pulse thundered. “What you see as desperation is strength. Weakness isn’t desperation. It’s the reminder we need others for strength, and together we shine too brightly for darkness to swallow. That’s why you fear it.”
A hiss rippled through the face above, its eyes narrowing. The shadows writhed across the sky, darting low, making the lanterns flicker.
