Chapter Twenty-Three
“Maeve, what are you doing here?”
Nova’s voice ripped through the silence, breaking apart the strange stillness like a sudden storm.
The other voice disappeared like it never existed.
Before I could turn, her hand latched around my arm, fingers gripping tight.
There was no patience in her tone—just urgency. Her sharp, knowing gaze scanned the room before flicking back to me, and then, without another word, she pulled.
I stumbled as my boots scuffed against the smooth floor as she dragged me away from the glowing space, moving too fast for me to protest.
“Nova—what—”
“Not here,” she hissed. “Not on this floor.”
My confusion thickened as we rushed through a narrow hallway, our steps echoing in the eerie stillness.
Nova’s grip never loosened.
Her pace never slowed.
At the base of a spiraling staircase, she finally let go just long enough to nod toward the steps. “Up. Now.”
I swallowed, glancing over my shoulder at the room behind us, full of light, love, and patience. And yet… Nova’s urgency said otherwise.
So I climbed.
The air shifted the higher we went. The warmth faded into something hotter, thicker. It didn’t feel like the golden glow before—it was sharper, more intense, like stepping too close to a roaring fire.
And then we reached the second level.
I stopped short, my breath catching in my throat.
Cauldrons.
Dozens of them.
Massive.
Blackened iron pots, each one brimming with molten liquid that bubbled and churned like lava. Orange and red light flickered against the stone walls, illuminating the space with an eerie, shifting glow.
And above them—
I took a step back.
They looked like sprites, their small, fluttering forms hovering over the cauldrons, their translucent wings shimmering in the firelight. But unlike book sprites—creatures of ink and paper—these creatures weren’t pulling knowledge from pages.
They were feeding the bubbling liquid below them. Giving it something.
“What the hell is this?” I breathed, my gaze locked on the hypnotic movement of the creatures as they dove into the flames and flicked tiny embers into the mixture.
Nova crossed her arms. “The memory forges.”
I turned sharply to face her. “The what?”
“The cauldrons,” she clarified, her gaze scanning the room like she expected something—or someone—to jump out at any moment. “They hold memories. Moments of magic, pieces of thought, emotion, power.”
“What?”
“The sprites,” she gestured to the hovering creatures, “aren’t book sprites, Maeve.”
I swallowed hard. “Then what are they?”
Nova’s expression darkened as the firelight danced across her face.
“They’re sprites. Keepers of flame and thought.”
I stared at the cauldrons again, the bubbling, angry liquid swirling inside.
Memory.
Fire.
Thought.
I didn’t know why, but a chill ran through me despite the heat.
The molten liquid churned like a living thing, the sprites dipping in and out, flickering embers trailing in their wake. The heat pressed against my skin, thick and suffocating, but it was the weight of understanding— or lack thereof— that made my stomach twist.
I turned to Nova, searching her face for answers.
“Okay,” I said, exhaling slowly. “I get that this is the Flame Ward, but what does it have to do with memory and thought?”
Nova studied me for a long moment, her gaze questioning. Then, with a slow inhale, she crossed her arms.
“The Flame Ward isn’t just fire, Maeve. It’s fuel.” She gestured toward the cauldrons. “These flames are tied to more than heat. They are the embers of memory, the fragments of magic and thought left behind by those who came before us. It’s history and hope, but it’s all borrowed.”
I swallowed hard, trying to connect the pieces. “So, what? These cauldrons hold memories?”
“Yes. But not just any memories.” Nova’s voice dropped slightly. “They hold the lost ones.”
A shiver ran through me despite the heat. “Lost ones?”
Nova nodded toward the bubbling liquid.
“When the curse fell, Stonewick lost more than just its magic. The Academy sealed itself, but not before certain memories and certain moments of magic were taken from those inside. Scattered. Locked away. Burned into these flames.”
I stared at the cauldrons, my mind racing.
“So this isn’t just a Ward. It’s…” I trailed off, realization sinking in.
Nova nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “It’s a forge.”
I let out a breath. “A forge for memory and magic.”
She inclined her head.
I took a step closer, feeling the heat licking at my skin. If what Nova was saying was true, then this place… these cauldrons… held something crucial. Something stolen, borrowed, or whatever we wanted to call it.
“Has anyone ever pulled a memory from the flames?” I asked, glancing at her.
Nova hesitated.
My stomach dipped.
“Nova.”
She exhaled through her nose, her arms tightening around herself.
“Some have tried. Some have… succeeded. But the memories don’t always return as you expect them to.”
A sudden thought hit me, sharp and insistent. I turned back to the swirling flames. “
“What about Gideon?”
Nova’s expression darkened.
“If this place holds the lost moments of Stonewick, then what does it hold of him? Anything that could be helpful?”
Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy.
Nova glanced toward the cauldrons, the firelight flickering against her skin. Then she met my gaze, her expression restrained.
“That,” she said quietly, “is the question no one wants answered.”
Nova watched the flames flicker and curl, the light casting sharp shadows across her face. She inhaled deeply, the scent of charred parchment and something older—something ancient—filling the space between us.
“Thoughts, knowledge feed the flames,” she said, her voice almost reverent. “They burn with the memories and magic of those who have passed through the Academy or roamed the streets of Stonewick. As long as minds learn and knowledge is shared, the flames thrive. But…”
I turned toward her, the heat from the cauldrons licking at my skin. “But what?”
Nova’s gaze flickered to the nearest cauldron, the molten liquid glowing with a dull, pulsing light.
“The longer the Academy stays closed, the weaker the flames have become. For decades, they’ve been fading, dimming, cooling.” She exhaled, shaking her head. “But in the last few weeks, something changed. The flames started burning again. Stronger. Brighter.”
I swallowed, already knowing what she was about to say.
Nova turned to me, her eyes steady.
“It started the moment you stepped foot inside the Academy.”
A shiver crawled up my spine despite the oppressive heat. I looked back at the cauldrons, their molten surfaces churning like restless seas.
“So, what does that mean?” I asked, my voice quieter now.
Nova studied me. Her lips pressed together in thought.
“It means you’ve disturbed something. Awakened something.” She tilted her head. “Or, maybe… you’ve been the missing piece all along. You’re the fuel these fires needed.”
I let out a breath, my fingers curling against my sides. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt like the universe had singled me out for something I didn’t fully understand. But standing here, in this place of lost memories and fading knowledge, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d stepped onto a path I couldn’t turn back from.
“Could the fires tell me something?” I asked, glancing at her.
Nova’s mouth twitched into something that was almost a smirk. “That depends. Do you trust what they have to say?”
I wasn’t sure.
But I was starting to think I didn’t have much choice.
I gripped the edge of the wooden railing, my fingertips pressing into the smooth surface as my heart pounded. My father’s voice had been here. It had lingered in the air like a whisper of the past, rising from the forges of memory and flame, only to be snatched away before I could grasp it. Before Nova interrupted…
“I heard my father’s voice.”
Nova stood beside me, her expression carefully measured, but I caught the flicker of sadness in her eyes.
“That would make sense,” she said softly. “Since you’ve come here, you probably feel keenly connected to him, and it was the easiest memory to surface and be plucked from the forges. That’s why I pulled you from downstairs. Your thoughts are snatched more easily down there.”
I swallowed against the lump forming in my throat. I missed him so much it hurt. I wanted to hear more. To hold on to whatever fragment of him this place had preserved. Instead, I was left with a fragile syllable of my name.
“He only got out my name,” I admitted, my voice unsteady. “You came before he could say anything else.”
Nova nodded. “Good. Those are private thoughts. Not meant for the forges.”
I frowned. “Why? Aren’t things secure?”
Nova’s gaze darkened as she turned toward the glowing cauldrons, the heat casting an eerie, flickering light against her sharp features.
“Of course, we want to believe they are. But no one can ever underestimate the power of another soul.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine. “You mean Gideon.”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached out, trailing her fingertips just above the surface of one of the cauldrons. The flames didn’t burn her, but they reacted, rising slightly as if drawn to her touch.
“There’s a reason the forges were left untended for so long,” she finally said. “Magic like this…it’s both a gift and a curse. It preserves, but it can also expose.”
I hugged myself, staring down at the flickering flames. “Expose what?”
Nova’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Secrets. Vulnerabilities. The strongest memories are the easiest to steal.” Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the danger that lurked in the shadows.
I took a small step back. “So you’re saying that if Gideon got in here—”
Nova cut me off with a sharp look. “I don’t know how much he knows. But I know that he could pull memories straight from the fire if he ever gained access to the forges. And if he’s been watching you, if he knows how deeply you’re connected to this place—” she hesitated before sighing, “—then that gives him a dangerous advantage.”
My stomach twisted. I had come here chasing the past, looking for answers, and instead, I was standing in front of something that might be a beacon for the enemy we were trying to stop.
I took another step back, crossing my arms. “So what do we do?”
Nova studied me long before saying, “We keep our memories where they belong. With us. Not in the fire.”
The weight of her words settled on me, and for the first time, I truly understood the danger. Gideon had already stolen so much from this town. I wouldn’t let him take anything more.
But deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.
I let out a slow breath, piecing it together as I stared into the flames.
"So this Ward protects Stonewick," I said, watching the light dance across Nova’s face.
Nova nodded, waiting for me to continue.
"But the flames need to grow," I continued, shifting my stance. "They need to be fed by memories, thoughts, and knowledge." I exhaled, suddenly feeling the weight of what this place had endured for decades. "But the flames dwindled as the Academy remained closed because there was no knowledge base to pull. No new minds. No students to bring fresh thoughts, new insights. No scholars or teachers to keep the fires alive."
"Correct," Nova said simply, her gaze steady.
I took another step back, my arms crossing as I considered what this meant. How often had I felt everything was leading back to the Academy? The moment I set foot in this town, I had been drawn to the way it pulsed with something that felt familiar and ancient, as though it had been waiting for me.
I smiled to myself and nodded, looking back up at Nova. "So, once again, we have a reason why the Academy needs to open to new students sooner rather than later."
Nova gave me a small, knowing smile. "It would certainly help."
I huffed out a quiet laugh. "You know, you could just say I'm right for once."
"You’re right for once," Nova said immediately, deadpan, and I rolled my eyes.
But beneath the teasing, the truth settled in. The Academy wasn’t just about preserving the past. It wasn’t just about training new magic folk or keeping the traditions alive. It was, quite literally, a vital part of Stonewick’s survival. Without it, the Wards—this protection—would continue to weaken.
"Do you think Gideon knows this?" I asked, a chill running down my spine at the thought.
Nova’s expression darkened. "Don’t know."
I swallowed. That wasn’t exactly reassuring. "And if the flames here hold knowledge, if someone like Gideon—or anyone with the wrong intentions—tried to use them, could they steal that knowledge? Use it against us?"
Nova hesitated, her gaze flicking back to the cauldrons. "Yes."
The pit in my stomach deepened. "So what’s stopping them?"
Nova glanced back at me, something unreadable in her expression. "For now? You."
I blinked. "Me?"
Nova nodded. "The flames ignited when you arrived, Maeve. They were dormant, barely embers before you set foot in the Academy. And now? They're growing. Reacting. You’re connected to this place in a way we don’t fully understand yet."
I stared at her, my mind whirling. "I don’t think I like being the key to everything."
Nova smirked. "Too bad."
I groaned, rubbing a hand down my face.
"Okay, fine. So we need the Academy to reopen, we need teachers, we need students, and we need knowledge flowing again to strengthen this Ward against attacks. But how do we make that happen? There’s still a curse in place. The Academy is barely holding itself together."
Nova exhaled. "One thing at a time, Maeve."
I let out a humorless laugh. "That’s easy for you to say."
She shrugged. "Not really."
I ran a hand through my hair, turning back toward the flames. If my presence was reigniting them, then I had to figure out what it was about me that was doing it. Was it simply my magic? My connection to my father? The fact that I had been allowed into the Academy when so few could enter?
Or was it something else entirely?
I glanced back at Nova. "Then I guess we’d better start figuring this out."
Her eyes met mine, steady and sure. "We should."
I let out a slow breath and took a step closer to the cauldrons, the heat from the flames pulsing against my skin.
"So if these fires are memory-fed, how do we know what’s actually inside them?" I asked.
Nova tilted her head slightly.
"That’s the thing. We don’t always know. The sprites—you saw them earlier—they are the ones who carry the knowledge into the flames. They decide what is stored here, what is protected, and what is too dangerous to be exposed."
I frowned. "But that means—"
"Yes," Nova cut in. "That means the sprites are selective. It also means that if there’s something they don’t want to be found, they have ways of keeping it hidden."
I crossed my arms. "Then how do we figure out what’s in there that could help us?"
Nova exhaled, her eyes flicking back to the glowing cauldrons. "That’s the problem, isn’t it?"
I turned to the nearest cauldron, watching the flames twist and shift. If the sprites kept secrets, there had to be a reason. But what if it wasn’t about keeping something hidden from Gideon? What if it was about keeping something hidden from us?
A shiver ran down my spine at the thought.
"Maeve," Nova said, drawing my attention back to her. Her expression had softened slightly. "I know this is a lot."
I let out a dry laugh. "You think?"
She smiled faintly. "But we’re closer than we were before."
I nodded slowly. "What are these sprites called?”
Nova’s brows lifted. “Fire sprites.”