Page 60 of Magical Mayhem
By the time the Academy came into view, I was nearly running.
Its windows glowed warmly, a stubborn patch of light against the thickening dark.
I slowed only when I reached the steps, pressing my hand to the doors, feeling the pulse of charms woven deep into the Academy’s frame. They vibrated faintly under my palm, like the building itself was bracing.
The thought chilled me. Even the Wards were nervous.
Inside, the air was warmer, steadier. A few students had gathered in the common room, their heads bent over books or engaged in conversation. Their laughter sounded forced, a little too loud, like they were trying to outshout whatever was happening in the skies.
I forced myself to smile at them, though my chest felt tight. “All good here?”
One witch, a woman with streaks of silver in her braid, lifted her cup. “Tea fixes everything.”
“Always,” I said, and I meant it, knowing she must be in Stella’s class.
My steps carried me past them, up the stairs, toward the hall that led to Keegan’s room. The closer I got, the heavier my chest felt, as though the shadows pressing outside had found their way into my lungs.
I knocked once and softly pushed the door open.
The fire inside the hearth was low, with embers more prominent than flames. Ardetia sat in the corner chair, her long fingers draped over the armrest, eyes closed but not asleep. She cracked one open when I entered, inclining her head.
“He’s resting,” she said softly.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
On the bed, Keegan lay propped on pillows, blankets thrown half off in his usual stubborn way. His face was still pale, damp with sweat, but even in that fragile stillness, he looked more himself than Gideon had. His chest rose and fell, steady enough, but his brow furrowed as if even sleep was a battle.
I moved to his side, sinking onto the edge of the bed. The heat in the room shifted the moment I touched his hand.
His eyes fluttered open.
“You came back,” he murmured, voice rough.
“Of course I did,” I said, brushing hair from his temple. “Where else would I be?”
His mouth twitched, almost a smile. “You’ve got options. Too many. You could run off with just about anyone. It would be easier.”
My heart twisted. “Don’t talk like that. You’re not losing me.”
He closed his eyes again, his hand tightening weakly on mine. “The shadows… brasher tonight.”
I nodded, throat tight. “I know. I felt them too.”
Ardetia shifted in her chair. “Nova’s out walking the Wards. She said the pressure would crest tonight. Perhaps it already has.”
Keegan’s breath hitched, his jaw tightening. “It’s pulling. Harder.”
I pressed my other hand over his, as if I could anchor him by sheer will. “Then we’ll pull back harder. That’s what we do.”
His lips parted like he wanted to argue, but instead, he exhaled, a long, shaky breath that seemed to leave more than air behind. I bent closer, so he could hear me even if the shadows tried to steal my words.
“You’re not alone,” I whispered. “Not tonight. Not ever.”
For a heartbeat, I felt the weight ease—not gone, but lighter.
Maybe it was nothing more than a lull, a trick. But in that moment, his breathing evened, his shoulders softened, and the room felt less like a battlefield.
I stayed there, holding his hand, my heart still pounding with the choice I hadn’t made. Keegan first, Gideon second.
