Chapter Twenty-Two
The first time I saw the Ward in the center of town, Nova was behind me, speaking in her usual cryptic way, her presence as steady as the night air.
With its towering frame and eerie silence, that looming building had unsettled me then. But tonight… tonight, something was different.
A few windows glowed, and they’d always remained dark for as long as I’d been here.
But now I felt something magnetic.
Not a flicker from candlelight or a passing reflection, but something steady, purposeful. Someone was inside.
I huffed and burrowed deeper into the comforter, forcing my gaze away from the window and back to the lulling snores from Frank.
You are not investigating tonight, Maeve.
Nope. Not happening. Not tonight.
But my eyes kept drifting back toward the window, and my brain was already moving past the internal argument straight into planning.
The truth was that I could go now.
Just a little late-night excursion.
In and out.
Good things often came from these middle-of-the-night adventures…
The Academy recognized me and let me come and go as I pleased. If the same rule applied to the Ward… well, I could probably walk right in.
Instead, I exhaled and yanked my phone from the end table, a much-needed distraction.
I shot off a quick text to Celeste. I loved seeing you today. I miss you already.
The reply came almost instantly. Me too, Mom. Love you so much.
Celeste was a bird soaring into adulthood with new beginnings, many firsts, and a joy that couldn’t be replicated.
But that settled something in my chest and softened the restless buzz vibrating through me.
Now was my time, too.
It was my time to soar and learn new things and ways of existing.
I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the blankets' weight and the rhythmic rise and fall of Frank’s breathing. But then the glow from the Ward flickered, just enough for the movement to catch my attention, and suddenly sleep was a lost cause.
I muttered a curse and tossed the comforter back, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.
“Just looking,” I told Frank as he lazily cracked one eye open. “That’s all. A peek.”
He grunted and resettled himself, utterly unimpressed with my decision-making skills.
I padded toward the window, pushing the curtain aside for a better look. The glow remained steady in three windows, positioned at different heights throughout the building.
Not random, not accidental.
Something was happening inside.
And I, against all my better judgment, needed to know what.
I ran a hand down my face and let out a slow, resigned sigh.
“This is a terrible idea.”
Frank let out another grunt as if agreeing with me.
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered. “But when have I ever listened to reason?”
I grabbed my coat, pulled on my boots, and reached for the door handle. The night had just gotten a lot more interesting.
Stepping into the hallway, my boots barely made a sound against the floor. I might be able to pull this off.
Just a quick look, I told myself.
In and out. Merely enough to satisfy my curiosity.
And so that I didn’t make a sweeping entrance into the lobby on the staircase, I’d use the elevator.
The ride down was smooth and silent, but the moment the doors slid open to the lobby, I regretted everything.
Because, of course, there was Ember.
She was perched behind the front desk, flipping through a small leather-bound book. She looked up at my boots tapping against the floor, and her gaze landed on me with an amused glint.
I froze, caught mid-step like a child sneaking out past curfew.
She arched a brow and smirked.
“Maeve,” she said, dragging out my name like she knew exactly what I was doing.
I cleared my throat and gave her my most innocent smile. “Evening, Ember.”
She tilted her head, eyes sparkling with barely restrained laughter. “Going somewhere?”
I debated lying—really, I did.
But this was Ember. She had an uncanny ability to see straight through people, and I wasn’t foolish enough to think I was an exception.
Instead, I sighed and shrugged, shifting my weight. “Just… going for a little walk.”
“A little walk?” she repeated, leaning her elbows on the desk.
I nodded. “Yep. Stretching my legs. Fresh air and all that.”
Her smirk deepened, and she gave me a slow, knowing wink after a beat. “I don’t see a thing.”
Relief flooded through me, and I shot her a grateful smile as I headed for the doors.
“You’re the best, Ember.”
“I know,” she called after me, already flipping back through her book as if I’d never been there.
The cold air hit me when I stepped outside, crisp and bracing against my skin. I pulled my coat tighter, stuffed my hands into my pockets, and scanned the street.
A few couples walked along the sidewalks, bundled up and admiring the twinkling Christmas lights draped over storefronts and lamp posts. The air smelled of snow, woodsmoke, and something sweet wafting from the nearby bakery, probably preparing for the morning rush. It was peaceful, normal—a sharp contrast to the restlessness curling in my chest.
I turned and made my way down the street, past the cozy familiarity of the tea shop and the yarn shop, past the antique shop with its display of old clocks that always made me feel like time had no real meaning. It could just be bought and sold like everything else.
Then, finally, I stopped in front of the gate.
The same iron gate I had stood before so many nights ago, staring past its cold, unyielding bars and into the depths of the Ward.
I exhaled slowly, my breath curling in the air.
There it was again—that familiar pull, an invisible thread winding through my bones, calling me forward.
I wrapped my fingers around the iron bars, feeling the cold seep into my skin.
And then, without giving myself another moment to hesitate, I wrapped my fingers around the lock with the beautiful candle and wick and held it as it warmed in my hand and unlocked.
The moment I stepped through the iron gate, the hush of the city behind me seemed to fade into something heavier—quieter in a way that didn’t feel entirely natural.
The air here was different.
Thicker.
Like stepping into a pocket of time separate from the rest of Stonewick.
I followed the stone path as the building loomed ahead, tall and dark against the night sky, its windows blackened except for a few that flickered with that eerie glow.
The very glow that pulled me out of bed.
I tried not to let my nerves get the best of me, but the silence felt expectant. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the Ward itself was waiting to see what I would do.
Still, I kept moving, following the path as it curved around the side of the building, where I knew a discreet entrance awaited.
Halfway there, I hesitated, glancing over my shoulder.
This was usually the part where Nova snuck up behind me and scared the absolute crap out of me.
But no shadowed figure emerged from the mist, no cryptic words whispered over my shoulder.
Just me, the crunch of snow, and the weight of the building pressing against the night sky.
I turned back toward the door, a simple, nondescript thing nestled into the side of the building, barely visible unless you knew exactly where to look. I hadn’t noticed it before, but it felt like it had been waiting for me tonight.
I reached out, resting my hand against the iron handle.
The second my skin made contact, a shiver shot up my spine—not from the cold, but from something else.
The door groaned, the old hinges sighing as it cracked open.
I swallowed hard, staring into the sliver of darkness beyond.
Well. That’s not ominous at all.
Glancing over my shoulder, I took a slow, steady breath and stepped inside.
A soft, golden glow unfurled across the walls, spilling into the space like the first rays of morning light. It was breathtaking—not just in sight, but in feeling.
It wasn’t just light.
It was love.
Comfort.
The walls shimmered as though infused with energy, casting prisms of color that danced along the empty space.
But I stood in the middle of it, frozen. My breath caught in my throat.
There was nothing in the room. No furniture, no objects, no relics of the past. And yet…
It was full.
Full of something that hummed.
Full of something that ached.
The echoes of laughter whispered through the air, flickering like candlelight as if a thousand joyful moments had imprinted themselves here, unwilling to fade. The power of it pulsed around me, beating, grounding me in place.
I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t know what to feel.
It was paralyzing—the sheer weight of it, the overwhelming beauty that seeped into my skin, curling around my heart like a long-forgotten embrace.
What was this place?
I took a hesitant step forward, my boot tapping softly against the floor. The sound was swallowed immediately, absorbed into the stillness, as though the space didn’t want me disturbing its peace.
It was unlike anything I had ever felt before. Joy was woven into the very air here. Love lingered in the way the light shifted and pulsed against the walls in soft waves, responding to my presence.
Thoughts…came and went.
For the first time in a long time, I felt small. Not in a fearful way, but in a way that reminded me I was standing within something much bigger than myself.
I turned in a slow circle, my arms wrapped around my stomach, half expecting to see someone else here. Maybe a figure standing in the corner, waiting for me to notice them. A ghost from the past, drawn in by the overwhelming sense of what was.
But there was no one.
And yet, I wasn’t alone.
I could feel it.
The pressure in the air shifted, and I shivered, though not from cold. I opened my mouth to say something—to ask something—but then—
A voice.
Soft. Familiar. Waiting.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t sharp.
It was just a breath, a whisper, but it carried through the space and found me.
“Maeve.”
I froze. My heart hammered.
Because I knew that voice.
And for the first time since stepping inside, I was afraid.