Chapter Twenty-Five
The Academy’s silence stretched as I walked through the hallways.
I had meant to leave an hour ago to fill in Nova and everyone.
Halfway down a narrow corridor that smelled faintly of mint and old paper, I remembered something else.
My mother.
She was still in Stonewick. I’d nearly forgotten she’d come to visit.
Still staying in the hotel in downtown Stonewick, wrapped in floral shirts and giving me those looks that said she knew more than she let on.
I shook my head, still trying to fathom why she came here after so long. I probably would be less concerned if Gideon had not implanted those visions, but I hated to think she was somehow wrapped up in all this.
She was probably wondering what happened to me, though. My mom liked to be remembered. More so, she liked to remain the focus of all attention. But she wouldn’t panic at my absence, not my mother. She was too practical for that.
I just didn’t like her wondering and waiting, especially now.
And Nova…I needed to tell her about what I’d encountered.
About the silhouette. About the stirring magic.
She’d have thoughts.
Always did. She noticed things the rest of us missed. I needed that.
I stopped in the hall and glanced out the window, halfway expecting to see the visitor again.
“Okay,” I whispered to myself. “Enough waiting.”
Time to go.
I found Bella in a sitting room, half-buried under a pile of scrolls and rune-marked paper. She didn’t look up when I entered, but she waved one hand vaguely in greeting, the other scribbling something down with a feathered pen that sparkled at the tip.
“I’m heading back to town,” I said.
That got her attention.
She looked up, blinked twice, and tilted her head. “So soon?”
I nodded. “My mom’s still there. And I need to talk to Nova about… well, everything. Besides, it’s probably been longer inside these walls than we realize.”
“True,” she said after a beat. “I’ll hold down the chaos here.”
I smiled. “I just wonder how long we’ve been in the Academy.”
She snorted. “Tell me about it. I found a stairwell today that led to nowhere. And by nowhere, I mean a room full of whispering mirrors.”
I paused at the door. “Try not to get lost in one.”
“No promises.”
“Please let my grandma know I’ve left. I tried to find her in all her usual spots, but this place is endless. We need some sort of intercom or something.”
She chuckled and nodded. “I’ll let her know.”
The quickest way to the town center was out through the Butterfly Ward. Walking down one of the long corridors, I noticed how the Academy felt a little more real. A little less dreamlike.
I stepped into an atrium, and the familiar warmth of the garden air settled around me. It wasn’t a natural garden, not really. Everything clung to magic that allowed for our survival. The way the leaves rustled in a breeze I couldn’t feel. The way the butterflies moved in slow, deliberate spirals overhead.
I stayed on the path, letting my fingertips graze the leaves as I passed and stepped outside using a side entrance.
But then I felt it.
That prickle at the base of my neck. That sense that I wasn’t alone, though no sound had betrayed a presence.
I turned my head toward the Butterfly Ward.
There. Just at the edge of the garden.
A figure.
A flicker.
The silhouette shimmered faintly, the edges uncertain, like it wasn’t fully formed or didn’t want to be.
I stopped walking.
The figure didn’t move. But I could feel it watching.
My breath caught.
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What would I even say?
The silence pressed in.
Then the figure shifted.
Not toward me. Not away. Just… blinked again like candlelight caught in a gust.
My heart thudded in my chest, heavy and slow.
I stepped forward as the path curved gently between two large flowering hedges. If I followed it, I’d be right where the figure stood or had stood.
Another step.
A butterfly landed on my shoulder, its wings pulsing in slow rhythm. I didn’t brush it away, and it didn’t seem alarmed.
And then the figure vanished.
Not suddenly. Just gradually. Like a breath being exhaled until there was nothing left.
I reached the spot where they’d been, and found… nothing.
Just the scent of unseasonal lilies, the bubbling of the fountain nearby, and the gentle bob of flowers’ blooms too large for the stems in this magical refuge.
I knelt and touched the path.
Still warm.
Still real.
But no sign of anyone.
I sat back on my heels and stared at the space in front of me.
Whoever, or whatever, that was, it hadn’t felt hostile.
Not exactly. But it hadn’t felt safe, either. More like sorrow wrapped in shadows.
I stood, brushed off my coat, and looked at the lanterns.
They were dimmer now. Or maybe that was just me, blinking too fast.
Either way, I couldn’t stay. Not yet. Not now.
Stonewick waited.
And so did my mom.
I was sure she’d have something to say about my absence.
As I walked down the alley away from the Butterfly Ward, Stonewick looked the same, but quieter.
The evening air had that soft bite to it, the kind that hinted winter was still arguing with itself. My boots made faint taps as I followed the narrow road past the bakery, the power of the ovens already pushing a buttery sweetness into the air.
I passed closed shutters, a few hanging signs swaying gently in the breeze, and finally saw it. The faint, rose-gold glow of Nova’s crystal shop, tucked along the buildings with its purple door.
The light in her window spilled out onto the street like an invitation, warm and just a little bit odd, which was exactly how Nova liked things. I almost knocked, but something caught my eye before I could.
Across the lane, Stella’s tea shop looked lively as ever. Through the window, I saw her, stirring a pot with one hand and wagging the other at someone just out of view. Her earrings jingled when she turned her head.
I might’ve kept walking, just waved and come back later, but then I saw who was sitting at the front table, wrapped in a floral shirt, and a mug cradled between both hands.
My mother.
She laughed at something Stella said, her shoulders relaxed, cheeks flushed from tea or conversation, maybe both. And suddenly I wasn’t moving anymore. Just… standing on the cobblestones like someone had pressed pause.
She looked happy.
Really happy.
And Stella didn’t look annoyed.
Progress.
Something in my chest twisted a little. Not painfully. Just enough to notice.
I changed course, walked across the street, and pushed the tea shop door open, the little bell overhead announcing me with a soft jingle.
Stella looked up first.
“Well, if it isn’t our long-lost daughter of the Academy,” she said, grinning. “Did the books finally spit you back out, or did you escape through the laundry chute?”
My mother turned, eyes wide. “Maeve!”
I blinked. “Hi. It’s been a whirlwind.”
My mom stood, wrapping her arms around me, before I could say anything else.
She smelled like cinnamon and something herbal I couldn’t place.
Familiar. Comforting.
“You look well,” she said, pulling back to study my face. “Tired. But well.”
I glanced at Stella and wondered if she’d put something extra in my mom’s tea. She was much different…almost, jolly?
“I—” I started to say something, but Stella cut in with a whisper as my mom went back to the table.
“She’s been drinking my resurrection blend,” she said, pouring something deep green into a mug. “It’s mostly nettle and mullein bits for inflammation, but don’t tell her. She thinks it’s reserved for the elite.”
“Stella,” I warned, trying not to laugh. “Are you sure you didn’t add a little extra something?”
“She’s fine,” Stella said, waving her hand and still not answering my question. “A little less prickly every week.”
I blinked again and sat with my mom. “Wait. Weeks?”
They both glanced at each other. That look people give when they realize they know something you don’t.
“How long have I been gone?” I asked, slowly.
My mother’s expression shifted, just slightly. She touched my arm. “Three weeks.”
I sat down.
Three?
It hadn’t felt like that. Not at all.
Inside the Academy, time drifted. Sometimes the sun sets when it shouldn’t. Sometimes whole afternoons folded into themselves. But I hadn’t thought it had been weeks.
“You didn’t worry?” I asked. “You didn’t think I vanished?”
“I did,” she said gently. “But Stella reminded me that the Academy has its sense of timing. And that worrying wouldn’t bring you back any faster.”
Stella refilled my mother’s mug and slid a cookie onto her saucer, and I realized I think she’s been keeping my mom pickled.
“She did try to send Nova in after you. I told her you’d come out when the Academy was done with you,” Stella explained. “Let’s not forget that Nova, Keegan, and I can’t go there. We’d get booted clear across town.”
The words settled strangely inside me. Three weeks were… a lot. Had anything else changed while I was gone? Had the town shifted without me noticing? Did Celeste need me?
“I stopped by Nova’s,” I said, glancing toward the window. “I didn’t go in.”
“She’s out on a meditative walk,” my mom said. “She’ll be back soon. She’s been expecting you.”
Of course, she had.
“Anything else happen while I was... inside?”
Stella leaned one hip against the counter. “Besides your mom becoming the new darling of my regulars and the maple trees blooming early? Not much.”
My mother gave her a look.
“Are you serious? It’s the dead of winter…” My voice trailed off. “You saw blooms on a maple?”
“Well, they’re tiny little things. You have to look hard, but yes.”
“But it’s still winter,” I said more to myself than anyone.
“Don’t tell that to the maple down the street.” Stella shrugged, and excitement filled me up.
The Maple Ward was strengthening as best it could.
“Well, I’m sorry to have been gone so long.” I shook my head.
“We didn’t miss you too much.” Stella grinned.
I laughed. “Hey, now.”
She winked. “Truth hurts, sugarplum.”
I let myself laugh, finally, the tension in my shoulders loosening by inches. These two worlds were so divergent yet parallel that I couldn’t even begin to imagine how they would smoothly intertwine.
This place… it still felt like home. But it felt different now, too. Like the tide had gone out and left the shore changed in small, quiet ways.
Nothing dramatic. Just new patterns in the sand.
“Want to stay for tea?” Stella asked, already reaching for another mug.
I nodded. “Yes. Please. I’ll fill you in on what I encountered.”
Because I needed a moment. To sit. To feel. To catch up, not just on the people I’d missed, but on time itself. On the quiet changes that crept in when your back was turned. And maybe, just maybe, on whatever was waiting next.