Page 14 of Magical Mayhem
Instead, I stood trembling in the forest and waited for the voice to speak again.
It didn’t.
And the silence that followed was worse.
Chapter Five
My name lingered in my ears, tender as a lullaby yet cutting as a blade.
Every part of me urged retreat and go back to the mule, the students, to Nova’s steady strength, and Ardetia’s quiet calm.
I suddenly wanted back to the warmth, to tea and laughter, to the kind of magic that soothed instead of unsettled.
But I stayed. I couldn’t walk away. Not yet.
I was too nosy and apparently hadn’t learned my lesson yet, so I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, and whispered, “Alright then. Show me.”
Mushrooms littered the ground in bright crimson patches, some speckled with white, others rimmed in silver like tiny lanterns. I tried to step carefully into the spongy ground, but their numbers multiplied the deeper I went, and soon I was tripping over clusters that seemed to spring up beneath me.
“Oof!”
I went down quickly as my knee hit the moss, but it didn’t hurt at all.
I brushed my hand over the nearest mushroom, its cap slick and strangely warm, as if it were alive.
“Lovely,” I muttered. “Saved by fungus.”
The joke fell flat in the stillness. Not even a cricket answered me.
Pushing to my feet, I continued, brushing ferns aside, ducking beneath twisting vines. Every detail shimmered with a strange intensity.
It could be considered cozy if it weren’t for the lurking sensation that the tiny creatures and vivid foliage were watching me.
I told myself it was only the season. Summer had pressed its colors into everything, bold and unapologetic. The Wilds turned into a chorus louder than spring’s crickets. Flowers climbed high, curling up tree bark and intertwining themselves into braids of vivid green and brilliant colors. The air purred with unseen magic, heavy and sweet, clinging warm against my skin.
But my heart thudded too hard.
Because what if I wasn’t meant to follow? What if the voice was a trick?
What if I were searching for something I should never find?
I pushed through a patch of brambles, their thorns curiously soft, almost velvety against my fingers, and stumbled into another clearing.
The moss here was brighter, a vivid lime that almost glowed like goblin gold, spreading like a rug beneath my feet. Red mushrooms rimmed the edges, forming an uneven circle.
A fairy ring, my mind whispered. A door. A warning.
I stepped carefully around it, refusing to test which.
Maeve.
I spun as my heart stopped.
But again, there was no one.
Only the hush, the gleam of mushrooms, and the weight of unseen eyes greeted me.
“Stop it,” I whispered to myself, pressing my hands to my cheeks. “You’re imagining it. The forest is playing tricks. That’s all.”
