Magical Musing (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #2)

Chapter Forty

The sharp wind whistled past my ears, carrying a faint moan of pain.

Keegan…

Maybe it was just the trees bending under the weight of our conflict.

I couldn’t tell anymore.

My heart pounded so hard it felt like it was rattling my rib cage, and all the while, I kept glancing toward the spot where Keegan, now in his colossal wolf form, had vanished into the swirling snow.

I forced myself to step away from the shattered walls of my cottage and peer into the darkness. My breath hitched as I did a double-take at a tall figure standing just beyond the tree line.

A man, his posture rigid, almost regal, his silhouette outlined by the faint glow of distant lanterns.

Every instinct in me screamed that it was Gideon.

I froze, and the snow stung my cheeks, time suspended in an eerie hush. The distance and the shadows masked his features, but I could feel his stare.

My entire body went cold, fear mixing with fury as a trickle of memories returned.

Murky whispers about his ambitions, the relentless push that had broken families and driven many from Stonewick.

Was it him?

Or was my mind conjuring a phantom in the chaos? I took a half-step forward, throat tight, wanting to scream a challenge or beg for an explanation.

He shifted slightly, just enough for the moonlight to illuminate his face. It was enough to confirm the worst.

Gideon was here, live and real, watching from the fringe of the battle like some twisted spectator.

Before I could blink, he gave a subtle tilt of his head—a gesture that could’ve been acknowledgment or mockery.

My stomach churned, anger flaring hotter. Did he have the gall to appear amid Malore’s attack as though orchestrating everything from behind the scenes?

I gathered my courage and opened my mouth, but the words tangled in my throat. I swallowed, feeling tears burn at the corners of my eyes. A single, searing question pounded through my mind.

What do you want?

“Gideon is here,” I whispered to anyone who would listen.

Suddenly, Gideon raised his chin, sensing my turmoil.

His lips curved—maybe into the hint of a cruel smile. And as abruptly as he’d appeared, he melted back into the shadows, blending seamlessly with the darkness.

One flicker of movement, and he was gone.

“What did you say?” Stella asked, aiding Miora in a quick patch job.

“Nothing.”

A fresh surge of panic tightened my chest. I staggered forward, half-expecting to find footprints in the snow, some clue that could lead me to him. But the whirling snowfall devoured all traces of his passage, leaving nothing but the thrashing of the wind and the distant roars of battle.

I whispered into the void.

“Gideon.” The name tasted bitter. But there was no answer, no sign he’d ever been there at all.

No tracks.

No trails.

Keegan and Malore were somewhere in that raging swirl of combat, each moment punctuated by snarls and the scrape of claws against the stone.

Frantically, I pressed my hands to the splintered walls, muttering incantations through trembling lips. My arms burned with the effort, and each fresh gust of snow and wind threatened to undo my progress.

I watched Keegan’s monstrous form pin Malore with a scraping claw before Malore tumbled over Keegan. The fight was too even. I swallowed my fear as I sensed movement behind me—a faint scuttle, almost imperceptible.

Whirling around, I saw her slip, walking toward me.

The fox, slender and graceful.

She padded across the debris-littered floor, unhurried by the chaos. As she stepped outside, the dim light bounded off her russet fur, giving her an almost otherworldly glow.

My heart gave a strange leap.

I still couldn’t say how or why she’d appeared before, only that she was no ordinary creature. But here she was again, walking through my threshold as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey,” I whispered, pausing mid-spell. Tendrils of flickering magic fizzled at my fingertips. “You—what are you doing here?”

She responded by winding between my legs like a cat, brushing her fluffy tail against my calf. Those bright, mischievous eyes slid to meet mine, holding a glimmer of roguish humor.

It was as though she were saying, Why wouldn’t I be here?

Before I could react, the fox lifted her head, ears poised as the distant howls and growls of the wolf fight out front filtered through the damaged walls.

Her muzzle twitched, and she threw me one final, playful look—eyes dancing with an unspoken challenge—before she bounded toward the gaping hole in the front door.

“Wait!” I reached a hand toward her, but she was already gone, a coppery streak leaping into the night.

And into the mess.

Her fur foiled from copper to gold in the wreckage, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

I scrambled over bits of fallen wood and piles of fallen books, peering outside just in time to see her dart through the snow.

She made a beeline toward the fray, where Keegan’s monstrous wolf form snarled and snapped, locked in a primal dance with Malore. Sparks of magic and shards of ice whipped through the air, but the fox only accelerated, weaving through swirling drifts.

For one surreal heartbeat, I saw her shape flicker—like a shimmer of heat on pavement—and realized she wasn’t just a fox.

She was a shifter , entirely at ease with her illusions.

Then she lunged straight into the fight, battling with a man she’d never met, her slight form a flash of coppery orange against the night.

Her fur changed in shocks of colors, glistening with each shriek.

Astonishment stuck in my throat. Even as my heart pounded with worry, I couldn’t help marveling at the fox’s gutsy abandon. She was here to help—no matter the cost—and I only prayed the chaotic battle outside wouldn’t consume her, too.

I sifted through the wreckage, my boots crunching on fallen books and shattered trinkets that had once made this place feel like home. My breath came in ragged gulps, the last echoes of fierce howls fading into the storm outside.

Nova rushed past me, hurrying to the battered porch with a grim set to her jaw. She cast a quick look my way—part reassurance, part silent plea for me to keep going.

At my side, Stella nodded, already chanting in a low voice while she and Miora worked to patch the broken doorway.

“You keep an eye on Keegan and the fox,” she called her tone tight. “We’ll secure the cottage.”

I swallowed a surge of panic and pushed my way outside.

The wind whipped snow across my face. My heart lurched when I saw Keegan’s massive wolf form locked in battle with Malore, the monstrous shifter who dwarfed my wildest nightmares.

A flash of copper fur darted between them—the fox. I had no idea how she evaded the chaos, but I knew she needed my help.

Lifting my wand, I tried to calm the trembling in my hands. I forced myself to think of Keegan, the fox, and how desperately I wanted them both safe.

My voice quavered as I recited a protection incantation, every syllable slipping into the frigid air. A sudden heat bloomed at my fingertips, and before I even realized what had happened, I saw a faint aura shimmer around the two figures. I gasped, hope bursting in my chest.

Maybe, I thought, my magic could make a difference this time.

I steadied my grip on the wand, my heart thudding like distant thunder.

The faint aura I’d conjured glimmered around Keegan and the fox, clinging to them like a hopeful thread amid swirling chaos. Snowflakes whirled in frenzied gusts, stinging my cheeks, yet I felt a strange hush settle inside me—a certainty that I wouldn’t break this time.

As I continued, the aura strengthened, and so did my confidence.

My thoughts drifted to my dad, safe somewhere in the cellar or beyond. If he could see me now, would he be proud? Would he recognize me as a witch—not just in name, but in quiet, determined practice? The memory of his bulldog eyes, filled with love and concern, bolstered my courage.

Stella and Miora’s voices rose in the background, weaving more spells to keep the cottage from collapsing. I looked behind at the battered walls, but it could have been much worse.

Despite the devastation, hope kindled in my chest—home wasn’t shattered wood or cracked windows. Home was the love holding us together.

Karvey and Trinity sat propped on a pine tree above the battle, and I wondered what they were waiting for or what they knew.

I took a slow breath, feeling the magic coil in my limbs.

My midlife magic, so long stifled by doubt, now hummed with possibility.

Lifting my wand toward the storm, I focused on Keegan’s powerful wolf form. The fox darted nearby, valiantly fending off Malore’s snapping jaws. Everything in me screamed that this fight wasn’t over, but if I could strengthen that protective aura for another moment, it might be enough.

I whispered a final incantation, voice trembling yet resolute. A new pulse of magic rippled through the grounds, illuminating the swirling snow with a ghostly glow. My heart soared and clenched at once, raw hope mixing with fierce worry.

And right then, in that breathless instant—while the night itself seemed to hold its breath—something colossal stirred in the darkness.

I felt it in my bones before I saw it, an impossible power shift bearing upon us. With my wand raised and my soul braced for whatever came next, I prayed the spell would hold.

Everything, and everyone, depended on it.

And then I heard the bone-snapping echo of defeat.