Magical Musing (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #2)

Chapter Thirty-One

I crouched slowly, instinct kicking in before logic could catch up.

"Well, hello there, you little scaly puff of magic," I murmured, my voice dipping into that automatic baby-talk tone I used with Frank when he was being especially cute. "Aren't you just the tiniest little fire hazard?"

The dragon’s nostrils flared, sucking in a deep breath as if it were weighing my words with great importance. Its little chest puffed up, and I suddenly became very aware of just how flammable I was.

I cleared my throat, forcing an awkward chuckle.

"You wouldn’t, uh… you wouldn’t want to toast me, would you?"

The dragon blinked, its golden eyes unreadable.

Its scales shimmered under the soft glow of the enchanted lanterns, the translucent tips catching the light in coppery treasure tones, like molten metal shifting beneath the surface. It was stunning .

And potentially lethal .

I took a slow step back, lowering myself onto my knees to seem smaller, less threatening.

“Okay, let’s not make me into a toasted marshmallow, okay?”

The baby dragon’s head tilted, considering me.

Its nostrils flared with deep, thoughtful sniffs. Then, just as I started to think maybe I had charmed my way out of a crispy fate, I heard it…

A resounding, resonant thud echoed into the air.

Followed by another.

And another.

My stomach flipped.

Something was moving behind the baby dragon.

Something big .

The air in the animal wing grew thick, charged with something ancient, something alive. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. I could only stare .

The dragon before me was massive. Its coppery scales glistened like fluid under the lantern glow. Its golden eyes—wise, restrained—bore into mine as if studying me. I got the distinct feeling that whatever this creature saw was measuring my worth against something I couldn’t begin to understand.

But what stole my breath was how it nudged the little one forward, gently guiding the baby dragon toward a rocky opening at the side of the chamber.

The baby let out a disgruntled little huff but obeyed, its stubby limbs lumbering toward a cluster of boulders.

A few dragonflies— actual dragonflies , their wings glimmering with the same coppery sheen as the dragons themselves—flitted toward the baby, landing delicately on its head and back. The baby shook them off with a grumpy sneeze, but the insects persisted, buzzing around like they had important dragon business.

I didn’t dare move.

My eyes flickered back to the adult dragon, unsure of what it wanted, uncertain if it, too, might decide I was something better well done .

But instead of fire, instead of aggression, the dragon simply sat before me, settling onto its haunches with an effortless grace.

Its massive and powerful wings dusted the floor before tucking neatly behind its back.

I took a deep breath, feeling the moment's weight press against me. My fingers curled against my knees as I steadied myself.

Trust.

"My name is Maeve," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I’m new here."

The dragon blinked, slow and deliberate.

And then, something strange happened.

In the deep pools of its golden eyes, I saw myself.

My reflection shimmered, warped slightly by the curve of the dragon’s gaze, but unmistakably me. My hair, wide eyes, and lips parted slightly as I stared.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, I had the strangest sensation—like the dragon was not just looking at me , but through me, peeling back the layers of who I was and weighing them against something ancient, something that belonged to this place in a way I didn’t yet understand.

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening against my lap.

Why?

Why had the Academy wanted me to see this?

Before I could dwell on it, a sharp sound behind me made my heart jump .

"Maeve."

I spun so fast I nearly lost my balance, my hand flying to my chest as if that would keep my heart from leaping out of it.

"Grandma!" I gasped, pressing a palm over my racing pulse. "I thought you were in bed!"

She stood just a few feet away, wrapped in a deep green robe, her silver-streaked braid falling over her shoulder. But unlike before, her expression wasn’t warm or teasing. It was serious.

"I was," she said, her gaze flicking past me to the dragon. "Until I felt the floors shake."

I froze.

My brows arched up. "They shook?"

"Yes." Her voice was quiet, reverent. “Dragons detected you.”

I blinked, turning back to the dragon before me, my mind racing.

The dragons… detected me ?

What did that mean?

I opened my mouth, about to ask, but Elira’s gaze drifted to something beyond me, down a corridor I hadn’t noticed before.

She lifted her hand and pointed.

"Look," she said.

I turned, and my jaw dropped.

The corridor wasn’t empty.

There had to be a dozen or more dragons.

Some were curled in their nests of enchanted moss, their shimmering scales shifting between gold, copper, and red hues. Others watched with glowing eyes, wings tucked neatly against their blue bodies, their presence neither hostile nor welcoming.

They were simply waiting.

Waiting for what, I didn’t know.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.

The Academy had led me here.

The dragons had felt me.

A little key inserted herself into the door to let me witness this…

And for the first time since arriving at the Academy, I felt like I was standing at the edge of something far more significant than I had ever imagined.

The sight of the dragons still stole my breath, their shimmering forms blending with the soft glow of the enchanted lanterns, their golden eyes reflecting more than curiosity. My mind was still catching up, still processing what it meant that they had felt my presence and come to see me .

But then, somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain, a memory nudged its way forward.

“Wouldn’t it be nice,” Twobble had grumbled back at the cottage, “if a big, fire-breathing dragon would just show up and solve our problems?”

At the time, I had laughed, picturing an enormous, winged beast casually strolling into town to handle my to-do list—probably with significantly more destruction than necessary. But now, standing here, surrounded by the impossible, I wondered how much of Twobble’s sarcasm had been closer to the truth than I’d realized.

I turned to my grandmother, my pulse still steady but my thoughts racing.

Grandma,” I said, hesitating before glancing up at her, “what’s with the key? The one that looks like it’s alive? Flies all around?”

Elira’s lips twitched in amusement. “Because it is alive, dear.” She sipped her tea, completely unfazed, as if sentient keys were just another Tuesday in the Academy. “And it also happens to open the Headmistress’s bedroom. Not just the dragon den.”

I blinked. “Wait. The Headmistress’s bedroom?”

She nodded, watching me closely. “Have you seen it?”

A chuckle escaped me.

“No, I wasn’t exactly given the grand tour. I’m sure they’re saving that for—” I paused, my own words catching in my throat as realization dawned. “—the Headmistress.”

Elira smiled knowingly, but I ignored it.

“Who knows about these dragons?” I asked. “Does anyone outside the Academy even know they exist?”

Elira let out a slow breath, her gaze sweeping over the creatures before settling back on me.

“Very few,” she admitted. “It’s all myths and legends as far as most are concerned. And the Academy keeps it that way.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“Because there are so few colonies left,” she said simply.

The words sank in like stones, heavy and irreversible.

I had just assumed—well, I didn’t know what I had assumed. That dragons were extinct? That they only lived in ancient texts, buried in the pages of books too old for most to read?

But colonies … that meant there were others .

I swallowed hard. “Wait—” I turned to her fully. “There are others ?”

My grandma’s lips pressed together as she studied me.

“I’ve heard whispers,” she admitted. “Rumors that there may be a wing in the eastern faction. But I wouldn’t know for sure.”

The eastern faction. That had to mean another Academy—one I knew nothing about.

The thought of an entire colony of dragons hidden away just like this one sent my mind spinning with questions. Who was protecting them? Who was keeping them secret? And why was it all so hidden?

A new thought, sharp and sudden, occurred to me, and I turned back to my grandmother.

“Did you know about them before the curse locked you inside?”

Elira hesitated for only a moment before nodding. A shadow crossed her face, something resigned beneath the candlelight.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I knew about them.”

I inhaled sharply.

“You—” I blinked. “ You were the only one?”

A sad smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“I was tasked with caring for them,” she murmured. “They were my responsibility.”

A chill spread through me.

She had known .

She had known about them this whole time— before the Academy had sealed itself before everything had changed.

Which meant…She could have told my grandfather.

My stomach turned, and my fingers curled instinctively against my palms.

What really happened the night the Academy doors closed?

And did it have to do with Gideon?

My grandfather?

One by one, the dragons turned, their massive forms retreating into the shadows of their alcoves, the soft rustling of their wings the only sound in the cavernous space. The copper-colored one—the one who had guided the baby dragon away—was the last to go, lingering for a moment longer, her golden eyes still locked onto mine. There was something in her gaze, something I couldn’t quite decipher.

And then, just like that, she turned, her powerful tail sweeping lightly across the stone floor before disappearing into the Academy's depths.

I finally took a deep breath. My shoulders slumped slightly, the tension that had gripped me since stepping into this place slowly ebbing away. The space was still charged, still alive with the weight of what had just happened, but the dragons had made their decision.

Whatever that decision was.

I turned to Elira, my heart still hammering. “Have you ever told anyone?”

She watched me, her decisive eyes calculating how much to say.

The silence stretched between us, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides, as though she were toying with the truth, weighing it carefully in her palms.

But then, instead of answering, she tilted her head slightly, studying me in a way that made me feel like I was a puzzle she was waiting for me to solve.

"You said you saw a fox earlier," she said, her voice smooth, casual— too casual. "What did it look like?"

I blinked, the abrupt shift catching me off guard.

"I—" I hesitated, my mind still half-stuck in the presence of dragons, but then I realized exactly what she was doing.

I stared at her, watching how her gaze didn’t waver and how she kept her face carefully neutral.

She wasn’t going to answer me.

Not directly.

Not truthfully.

A bitter laugh nearly escaped me.

That was my answer.

She wouldn’t have avoided the question if she had nothing to hide.

She wouldn’t have redirected me to something else, something she thought might throw me off course.

But I wasn’t as easily swayed as she seemed to think.

Still, I played along.

“The fox,” I said slowly, testing her reaction, “was unlike any animal I’ve ever seen. She moved like she belonged here, but she shouldn’t have been able to get past the Wards.”

Elira nodded, her expression resigned. “And yet, you were convinced she was real.”

I lifted a brow. “Just like you’re convinced changing the subject will make me forget my question?”

Her lips twitched slightly like she was fighting a smile, but something else was behind it—something guarded.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Fine," I muttered. "I’ll drop it."

For now.

Because she had just confirmed what I suspected, and I needed to get back to the cottage.

But that left me with only one question.

Who did she tell?

I watched my grandmother disappear down one of the long corridors. The soft echo of her footsteps gradually faded, swallowed by the silence in the Academy’s halls.

I stood there momentarily, unsure of what to do next, as a pang of regret settled in. There were still so many questions I hadn’t asked. But pushing her wouldn't get me anywhere if Elira wasn’t ready to share everything.

Tiny spheres of enchanted light hovered near the ceiling, painting the walls in gentle hues of amber and rose. Tapestries stretched along the stone, their woven threads depicting shifting scenes of past eras: a proud knight astride a griffin, a coven of witches dancing beneath a blooming moon, and in one particularly vivid piece, a trio of gargoyles standing watch on a castle rampart.

I thought of Karvey.

But I didn’t feel as free as when I ran down the hallways earlier.

I felt contemplative and…lonely.

Every so often, I’d see a tapestry flicker as though the figures within were moving just beyond the corner of my eye. If I tried to catch them in the act, they’d be still and silent, the woven threads no more animated than any other inanimate decoration.

De lu lu, like my grandmother said.

Possibly.

I found myself wandering, letting the Academy guide me or, perhaps, letting my feet choose randomly. Corridors opened into corridors, each bend revealing something new.

I ran across a statue of a woman cloaked in vines whose marble eyes glowed green. I nearly smacked into a small alcove housing a collection of vases that hummed with faint magical resonance, and I scooted past an enormous stained glass window depicting the sun and moon locked in an eternal chase.

I smiled, thinking that was how I felt in search of answers for the enigma I’d like to call Stonewick.

As I passed through a particularly narrow passage, the walls seemed to close in, pressing me to keep going forward until it finally opened into a wide, circular hall. A spiraling staircase led upward in graceful arcs, but I didn’t feel compelled to climb it. Instead, I paused at the base, trailing my fingers along the ornate banister carved with winding vines and curious little creatures that looked half-frog, half-turtle.

A deep, underlying magic thrummed in the floor beneath my feet, a pulse that reminded me of a heartbeat. For the first time, I truly understood how the Academy was more than just a building of stone and mortar. It lived silently, responding to those who wandered its halls.

But that awareness also brought a new heaviness.

Dragons lived here.

Real, breathing dragons that not only roamed these wings but seemed attuned to my presence.

They had recognized me somehow, or at least, they’d recognized something in me. The realization weighed on my chest, an odd mixture of awe and responsibility.

My thoughts drifted back to my cottage—the place I’d begun to think of as a true home after all the changes in my life.

Suddenly, I could almost smell the faint scent of lavender that clung to the old stones of the walls, feel the warmth of the fire where Frank would curl up, and hear Twobble’s high-pitched grumbling over something trivial.

I imagined Karvey perched on the roof like an ever-vigilant guard, scoffing from his stone perch.

The memories made me smile but also sharpened the ache in my chest.

I missed the cottage. The knowledge of dragons, hidden wings, and secret obligations made the Academy feel heavier than ever. I needed to let everything I learned seep into me before I took action.

I started walking, but everywhere I looked, something caught my eye.

An old portrait with eyes that followed me to a painting of Stonewick centuries ago with magical creatures openly roaming the streets. I couldn’t help but pause to admire it, imagining a time when witches, gargoyles, and who knew what else mingled under the sun, unconcerned with secrecy.

Those days were gone, and a pang of nostalgia for a past I’d never known washed over me. It was followed swiftly by the same yearning…the pull to be somewhere cozier, somewhere less burdened by the weight of ancient secrets.

With a shake of my head, I turned from the painting.

A door stood at the far end of the hall, carved with intricate symbols I couldn’t quite decipher. I half-expected it to lead to another wing of mythical beasts or a hidden library filled with forbidden tomes. Instead, when I opened it, I found a short passage that looped back to a familiar corridor—a place I recognized from earlier explorations with my grandmother.

The familiarity felt like an omen, a sign that maybe the Academy was permitting me to leave, at least for now. The living building had guided me in a grand circle, showing me what it needed me to see but letting me know I could go if I wished.

I exhaled, the tension in my shoulders loosening. That was all the encouragement I needed. As much as I respected this place, I yearned for the simple comfort of my own hearth.

I imagined Twobble’s sarcastic complaints the moment I stepped through the cottage door, how he’d likely cross his stubby arms and demand to know where I’d been and why he wasn’t invited. I pictured Frank lumbering to greet me, jowls flopping, his big bulldog eyes lighting up in anticipation of a treat. And Karvey would probably do his best to look unimpressed, perched on the roof with that perpetual gargoyle scowl, but I was certain he’d be glad to see me too, in his own prickly way.

A small smile tugged at my lips as I reached the grand foyer of the Academy, where the giant wooden doors stood, half-shadowed in flickering lamplight. I paused, letting the hush settle around me.

I cast one last glance over my shoulder, imagining the dragons far beneath the stone floors, hidden in their secret wing. My grandmother was somewhere deeper within, resting—if possible—amid the swirl of history and regret she carried.

Part of me longed to stay, unravel every mystery thread, question every tapestry, and find every hidden corridor. But I couldn’t help the ache inside my chest, the pull that said it was time to go home .

It was my time to leave.

So I placed a hand on the heavy door, feeling the ancient wood warm under my fingertips, and pushed it open.

And if I were lucky, I might even fall asleep.

Because no matter how much mystery and magic tugged at me, a piece of me would always crave home.

And maybe magic is as simple as asking.