Magical Musing (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #2)

Chapter Four

Among the greenery were creatures I could barely believe were real. A trio of winged foxes darted playfully through the air, their fur glowing faintly like embers at the tips of the strands.

Small, snake-like creatures with tiny legs and iridescent scales perched on tree branches reminded me of lethal chameleons as their curious eyes followed us.

In the distance, a massive, horned beast with white fur lounged near a bubbling spring, its eyes half-closed in contentment. Compared to the others, he looked nearly normal.

“These are some of the Academy’s residents,” my grandma said.

I could hear the reverence in her voice as she continued.

“Some sought refuge here after losing their homes to magical conflicts. Others are bound to the Academy, their magic intertwined with its Wards. Each wing is divided into quadrants where the Academy feels they get along best.”

A jeweled hummingbird flitted past my face, and my eyes widened. Its wings left a trail of glittering light.

“They’re beautiful,” I murmured. “And they just… live here?”

“They do. The Academy provides for them; in return, they contribute to its magic. The winged foxes, for example, help maintain the light that guides us through the halls. As you know, foxes are some of the most mischievous and curious of critters, so I tend to keep my eyes out for their tricks.”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Actually, I didn’t know that.”

“It’s true.” She tapped my shoulder. “Trust me.”

“I do.”

“The snakelies keep the library’s Wards intact, ensuring its knowledge is preserved.”

“Snakelies? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“And why would you, my dear?”

I tore my gaze away from the creatures to look at her. “Is this what kept you going? Knowing you were helping protect all this?”

“It was part of it,” she admitted. “But truthfully, it was the hope that someday, the doors would open again. That I’d have a chance to see my family, even if only in another lifetime or a new generation.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the chest.

The depth of her sacrifice, her unwavering dedication to a cause greater than herself, left me both awed and heartbroken.

“Grandma,” I said softly, “I don’t know if I could do what you did. If the Academy closed its doors tomorrow, I’d break.”

She placed a hand on my cheek, her touch warm and soothing.

“You’re stronger than you think, Maeve. And remember, you still have a choice. The Academy is powerful, but it doesn’t own you. You’ve already proven your loyalty to Stonewick. Whatever path you choose, it will be the right one.”

Her words offered some comfort, but the knot in my stomach remained. I glanced around the indoor retreat, the beauty and tranquility of the space at odds with the storm raging inside me.

One of the winged foxes landed nearby. Its glowing ember eyes met mine. I momentarily felt an inexplicable connection to it, as if it understood the weight of my thoughts. Then it leaped into the air, its wings carrying it back to the trees.

“Grandma,” I said, turning back to her, “I want to protect all this. The creatures, the magic, the people. But I also want to protect Celeste. I don’t know how to do both.”

She smiled gently, her eyes filled with understanding. “Then let the Academy teach you. Its doors are open to you. Trust that they will stay that way as long as you need them to.”

The reassurance in her voice steadied me a little. I took one last look at the creatures thriving within the Academy’s sanctuary and resolved to do whatever it took to keep this world—and the one outside—safe.

“Will more students come?” I asked, my voice echoing softly in the vast, magical garden.

The thought of the Academy filled with laughter, footsteps, and voices—a place bustling with life instead of the quiet hum of magic—seemed hopeful and overwhelming.

She turned toward me, and a faint smile crossed her lips, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“It’s not as simple as that, sweetheart. The Academy was once a beacon, yes, but it has been dormant for decades. Its doors may be open soon, but reviving it… will take time.”

“What kind of time?” I pressed, frowning. “Months? Years?”

“Years,” she said with quiet certainty. “Perhaps even decades. There must be more than open doors to call students back. The Academy requires a headmistress or headmaster to guide its purpose, teachers to pass on their wisdom, and guardians to protect its halls. Until those roles are filled, it cannot become the place it once was.”

“But why? I mean, the Academy is alive. It’s guiding me, and it’s showing me things. Can’t it just… I don’t know. Make it happen?”

My grandma chuckled softly, the sound tinged with a bittersweet hum.

“The Academy is alive, yes. It has its own magic, its own will. But it is not a replacement for people. It was never meant to function without us. The magic here thrives on connection—between teachers and students, guardians and knowledge, allies and protectors. Without those bonds, the Academy is merely a shell of what it could be. That is why the curse devastated Stonewick forty years ago. It divided those connections, made them fractured and non-existent.”

“So, what happens now? Do we start putting out magical classifieds for a headmistress and some professors?” I teased, thinking back to Stella. “I think I know a vampire who would be a hoot in class.”

Grandma Elira’s smile widened slightly. “It’s not quite so straightforward. The Academy chooses its leaders just as it chooses its students. The role is not something to be applied for; it must be earned.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, suspicion creeping in. “Earned? You’re not trying to say—”

“No,” she interrupted firmly, “the Academy has not chosen you for that role. Not yet, at least. You have enough on your shoulders as it is.”

“Good,” I said with a sigh of relief. “Because the idea of running this place… nope. Not in my wheelhouse.”

“Not yet,” she said, her tone laced with intrigue. “But the possibility is there.”

I groaned, scrubbing my palm over my face with a shake of my head.

“Let’s just focus on the here and now, okay? What does the Academy need to get started?”

She stepped closer, gesturing for me to follow her. We walked through the garden, the soft glow of the trees casting a dreamlike light on the pathways.

“First, the Academy needs to stabilize itself. The magic here is strong but fractured. The curse that affected Stonewick didn’t leave this place untouched. Some parts of the Academy remain inaccessible, their magic dormant or locked away. Until those areas are restored, the Academy cannot function at full strength.”

“And how do we fix that?”

“Through effort, patience, and trust,” she replied. “The Academy will reveal what it needs as we progress. Some of it may be straightforward, like repairs to its physical structure and strengthening Wards and seals. But some of it…” Her voice trailed off, her gaze distant.

“Some of it what?” I prompted.

“Some of it will require you ,” she said softly. “You are tied to this place, honey. The Academy recognizes your potential, connection to its magic, and familial ties. It will look to you to help restore its purpose.”

My stomach knotted at her words. The idea of being pivotal to the Academy’s revival was daunting. “And in the meantime, no students?”

“Not until the Academy is ready. It would be irresponsible to bring them here before the foundation is stable. The students we teach must be safe, nurtured, and guided with care. The last thing we need is for them to feel the echoes of the curse still lingering in these halls.”

We walked in silence for a moment, her words sinking in.

The responsibility weighed heavy, but there was a flicker of hope, too.

“And what about teachers?” I asked. “You said the Academy needs them, too. Where do we find those?”

“They will come in time. Some may already be watching from afar, waiting for the Academy to signal that it is ready. Others may need to be sought out. But just as the students must be chosen, so must the teachers.”

“Sounds like the Academy’s picky,” I muttered, earning a soft laugh from her.

“It has every right to be,” she said. “This isn’t just a school. It’s a sanctuary, a beacon of hope, a place of healing. Those who come here must understand the responsibility they bear.”

I stopped walking, turning to face her.

“And you?” I asked. “Will you stay to teach?”

Her expression grew distant, a shadow passing over her face.

“My time here is not what it once was,” she said carefully. “I have served the Academy for many years, but the role of teacher… belongs to a new generation. My purpose lies elsewhere now.”

I frowned, unsure how to respond. “You don’t want to stay?”

“It’s not about want,” she said softly. “It’s about where I’m needed most. And when the Academy is ready, I will step aside to make room for those who can truly guide it forward.”

“But you’re the one who knows this place better than anyone. Your knowledge would be invaluable.”

She smiled, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“The Academy doesn’t belong to me, Maeve. It belongs to you, the people of Stonewick, and the students who will one day walk these halls. My role is to ensure it’s ready for them. Beyond that… my path is uncertain.”

Her words lingered, filling me with a strange mix of determination and uncertainty.

There was so much to do, so much to rebuild. The Academy’s doors may have opened to me, but its journey was only beginning.

“And where do I fit into all this?”

My grandma’s gaze softened, her hand tightening gently on my shoulder. “You already fit. The Academy called you here for a reason. Trust that it will guide you, just as it has guided so many before you.”

The shimmering trees around us seemed to nod in agreement, their leaves rustling faintly in the magical breeze. I looked up at them, the flickering lights of the garden casting a warm glow over everything.

“You ready?” she asked, stepping out of the refuge.

I nodded, missing the sensation as soon as I stepped outside its perimeter.

A bell rang, and my grandma’s gaze shot to mine. Fear edged through her expression as she gasped.

My pulse soared. “What is it?”

“A summoning,” she said with her eyes widening.

“For who?”

She reached out to my hand and squeezed it. “You.”

“What’s going on?”

Confusion spiraled through me as my grandma rushed past me.

“Follow me.”

I scrambled after her, my heart pounding.

We wove through winding corridors, the walls shifting almost imperceptibly with the Academy’s latent magic.

A hush fell over the place as though it, too, was listening for an answer to this call.

Finally, we emerged into a grand courtyard that led to the butterfly gate connecting the Academy to the outside world.

Grandma Elira halted just before the threshold. Her footsteps echoed on the stone as my hand linked with hers. The door stood open, revealing the snowy grounds and a familiar figure waiting beyond.

Nova, her staff upright, her features set in calm urgency.

“Nova?” I called, stepping forward.

My grandma yanked me back.

“Maeve,” she whispered, a frown creasing her brow, “I can’t leave these walls. You know that.”

Her words hit me like a cold winter blast.

The Academy had allowed me to come and go, but Elira was bound to stay. A pang of guilt and sadness twisted in my chest. I nodded reluctantly and slipped my hand free of hers.

“I’ll be back, grandma.”

She nodded. “I know.”

The air felt sharper outside, tinged with winter’s bite as I made my way to the Butterfly Ward. The familiar garden where I’d first tasted magic with Nova felt like so many moons ago.

Nova inclined her head as I approached.

“I’m sorry for such an abrupt call,” she said, voice low. “But it’s Keegan. He’s not doing well.”

My stomach knotted, and I gasped.

“How serious?”

“Serious enough,” Nova replied, her knuckles whitening around her staff. “I tried to reach you at the cottage, but… then I realized....”

I glanced back at Grandma Elira standing inside the mammoth building. The Academy’s light framed her silver hair like a halo. She looked torn, painfully aware she couldn’t leave.

“Lead the way,” I said, hoping my voice sounded braver than I felt.

Because I knew more than most that I could do absolutely nothing for the place or the man until I had enough time to learn something…anything.

But I’d try.

And if my elfin friend thought I could assist, I would certainly give it a go.

Nova offered a reassuring nod, and we started down the path that cut through the snowy grounds.

We headed toward the village lights in the distance.

My heart hammered with every step, and each crunch of snow reminded me that my grandmother remained behind—locked in a place she called home, yet one she couldn’t leave.

Just before we disappeared into the darkness, I glanced back one last time. Grandma Elira stood at the edge of the Academy’s threshold, her eyes shining with worry and pride.

She lifted her hand in a silent farewell, and I answered with a slight nod and bolted after Nova, hoping I wouldn’t be too late.