Page 130 of Magical Mayhem
I shook my head, though a part of me clung to her words like a lifeline.
Unity.
Keegan’s hand brushed mine, warm despite the tremor in him. “Then let us share it. Decide who guards Gideon, Maeve. And we’ll make it work.”
My stomach twisted. My throat ached.
Across the hall, Nova turned, as though she knew her name hovered on my lips.
Ardetia’s laugh carried, golden and warm.
Bella’s tail flicked as she teased her students.
I drew in a sharp breath. My heart pounded, knowing that whichever name I spoke might spell their doom.
But it was time to choose.
The banquet hall quieted as I rose from the table. It wasn’t magic that silenced them, but something heavier: expectation. Every pair of eyes, witch, shifter, fae, and all the midlife wanderers who had found themselves inside these walls, turned toward me.
Fear lingered through the air.
I let it settle. Let them feel the weight.
“You’ve all seen it,” I began, my voice carrying across the stone, steady despite the storm inside me. “The skies splittingwith fog. The face in the clouds. The shadows answering to someone who thinks Stonewick is his to take.”
A ripple passed through them with nods, murmurs, and tightened shoulders.
“Malore has been twisting what is ancient into something foul,” I continued. “He’s bent the old rites until they look like weapons. He believes if he bends them long enough, they’ll break entirely. Gideon’s curse was only the beginning.” My throat tightened, but I forced the words out. “A test. A trial run of what happens when shadows are fed instead of faced.”
The students exchanged glances, the older ones paling, the newer ones leaning closer as though drawing courage from each other.
I took a step closer, resting my palms against the edge of the long table. “But tonight, and in the days to come, we’ll show him that Stonewick does not break. That no matter how many rites he warps, no matter how many shadows he calls, he cannot twist what is ours: our unity. Our will. Our choice to stand.”
The room stilled again. I felt the Wards buzz faintly under my feet, as though the Academy itself was listening.
I drew a breath. “That’s why I’m asking you now, each of you, to remember what you’ve learned here. To remember your strengths. And to pair again with the instructors you chose earlier.”
Heads lifted, eyes widened.
“Yes,” I said, nodding. “Nova, for those who doubt their vision. Ardetia, for those who crave roots. Bella, for those who fear their chaos. Ember, for those who carry too much memory. Stella, for those who believe themselves small. Lemonia, for those who seek order.”
As I spoke, each instructor straightened, the light catching them in turn. Nova’s green eyes gleamed like glass, calm and sharp. Ardetia’s hair caught the lantern glow, golden as sunrise. Bella smirked, fire flickering in her gaze. Ember glowed faintly, steady as ever. Stella preened in her shawl but looked fiercely proud. Lemonia inclined her head, serene as stone.
“These are not just classes anymore,” I told them. “These are your anchors. These are your threads. And when we weave them together, Malore will see what he fears most: that his shadows cannot scatter us.”
A murmur rose stronger this time in agreement, resolve, sparks of magic prickling the air.
I pressed forward, my voice rising. “This could very well be the last time Malore has this power. The last time he can call the sky to him and think we’ll cower. The last time he believes Stonewick will stand down. Because tonight, we show him he’s wrong.”
The words left me trembling, but I didn’t let them falter. I pushed harder.
“We show him that Stonewick is not afraid. That the Academy is not afraid. That we are not going anywhere. Not into his shadows. Not into his hunger. Not into silence.”
The hall pulsed with sound—applause, stomping feet, voices lifting. The runes thrummed louder, responding to the swell of will. Even the kitchen sprites chimed in, bells ringing from their trays as they zipped through the air.
I let the sound wash over me, steadying the cracks in my chest.
But as I looked out over them and flushed faces, bright eyes, and magic sparking, I couldn’t ignore the truth. Some of themmight not come back. Some of them might falter. Some of them might fall.
