Page 133 of Magical Mayhem
The air cracked.
The sound wasn’t thunder. It was sharper, closer, like the very stone of the Academy walls splitting under strain. A shockwave of energy rushed through the hall, rattling lanterns and knocking a tray of cups from a sprite’s hands. The floor under my boots vibrated as though a giant had stomped the earth from below.
Students gasped, some ducking instinctively, others clutching their instructors’ arms. The Wards in Stonewick hummed through the air like a storm warning.
“Down!” someone yelled, but it was already too late.
A bolt of raw energy tore through the air, white-blue, jagged, and furious. It didn’t strike stone or wood or flesh. It ripped throughspace itself, leaving a wound that hissed and spat arcs of lightning.
Through the crackling haze of magic, I saw him.
Keegan.
He pushed himself upright from where the shockwave had nearly knocked him flat, his body trembling with the effort. Every muscle in his frame was taut, every breath ragged, but his jaw was set with that stubborn defiance that had always made me both want to kiss him and throttle him.
I felt it before I saw it. His strength flickered, building, as though something unseen fed him from the shadows themselves. His hazel eyes darkened, his shoulders squaring as if he could take on the entire storm alone.
And for a heartbeat, pride filled me. Relief. Awe. He was standing when by rights he should have collapsed. He was standing when the curse had gnawed him nearly to the bone.
But then the gnawing started in me.
What if this wasn’t just willpower? What if this strength wasn’t his? What if it was the curse, Malore’s twisting, coiling tighter, lending him the same dark power it had sunk into Gideon?
The thought clawed at me, sharp and cold.
Then he looked at me.
Our gazes locked across the chaos, and my heart stilled. His eyes weren’t hollow. They weren’t Malore’s.
They were Keegan’s…steady, unyielding, fierce with the same loyalty that had carried me through every fire yet.
He was still Keegan.
He couldn’t be changed.
…Could he?
The taste of metal filled my mouth. My hair lifted from my scalp. My arms burned with static.
“No,” I whispered, staring at the tear unraveling in the air like a seam ripped by unseen claws.
There was no more time.
Malore was no longer content to test the skies.
He was here.
Chapter Forty
The tear in the air widened with a sound like ripping canvas. Light bled out of it in jagged flashes, too bright and too dark all at once, and the shadows came crawling through.
They weren’t shapeless anymore. They were limbs and claws and snarling maws made of smoke, their eyes lit with the same fog-light as the skies above Stonewick.
The first scream pierced the banquet hall.
“Hold!” I shouted, though my own voice shook.
Nova’s staff lifted in an arc of green fire, slamming into the floor. Her group of students followed her lead, raising wands and charms, their spellwork sparking a dome of light that pressed against the shadow-things. They hissed, recoiling, only to surge again.
