Chapter Forty-Four
I blinked.
The room came back in layers…first the soft gold of the crystal light on the walls, then the smoke drifting in curling spirals from the bowl, then the green and violet crystals glowing beside me. I felt the window cushion beneath me again, and the weight of my body returned like I’d floated above it.
Nova’s face came into view next. She was kneeling in front of me still, eyes calm and steady, like she’d been watching me the whole time, waiting for me to come back to myself.
Her hands were still wrapped gently around mine, warm now, pulsing with quiet, rooted magic.
Grounding me. Holding me steady amid everything whirling behind my ribs.
I tried to speak, but my mouth was dry. My heart still pounded like I’d run a mile with my eyes closed.
Nova smiled, but not in a big, triumphant way, but in a kind way. The kind of smile that knows what it’s like to hold fear in both hands and choose not to let it rule you.
“Oh, Maeve,” she said gently, her thumbs rubbing small circles into my palms. “Dear girl.”
I opened my mouth again, and she squeezed my hands just a little.
“There is no bond to Gideon,” she said softly. “None. You're not tethered to him or anyone else.”
The words hit like a sudden thaw.
No bond.
No thread.
No cursed root growing inside me, no shadow stitched to the bottom of my spine. Nothing creeping through my thoughts when I wasn’t paying attention. Nothing of him inside me.
I wanted to laugh.
Or sob.
Or both.
But my heart didn’t settle.
Because if it wasn’t him—if he hadn’t cracked the Ward or curled his dark magic around my edges—then…
“Then what does this mean?” I asked. My voice sounded fragile to my ears, like it might snap if I pushed too hard. “What’s happening with the Butterfly Ward?”
Nova didn’t let go of my hands. Instead, she shifted slightly, lifting one hand and resting two fingers gently against the center of my chest, just over my heart.
“It’s coming from here,” she said.
I stared at her, too startled to respond. “What do you mean?”
“The magic,” she said, tapping lightly again. “The unraveling. It’s not being pulled from the outside.”
I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense.”
Her eyes softened. “Doesn’t it?”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died on my tongue.
“No,” I whispered. “No, that can’t be right.”
Nova sat back slightly but didn’t move far.
“Maeve, the Wards were built to reflect the strength of the people who live within them. You know that. The Butterfly Ward has always been about transformation, growth, and the threshold between stillness and flight. You’re specifically marked to it.”
“It was whole, ” I said, my voice rising. “It was strong even when the others faltered. Even when the curse crept through the cracks, I felt it hold.”
Nova nodded. “Yes. But it’s also the Ward tied closest to the heart. The emotional center. When you returned, it responded. It welcomed you. But if you're faltering now, if something inside you is shaking, then so is it.”
“But I want this,” I said. “I’m ready. I’m doing everything I can. I’m—”
Nova tilted her head gently. “Are you sure?”
I stared at her.
“I don’t think you’ve ever stopped to ask yourself if you’re allowed to be unsure,” she said. “You accepted the Academy choosing you so quickly that you forgot to ask if you chose yourself. ”
That landed like a stone in my chest.
“I have to be strong,” I said, but the words didn’t have weight. “Everyone’s looking to me. You. Elira. Keegan. The Academy—”
Nova leaned in again and tapped my heart once more. “And are you looking to you?”
I looked away.
The edges of my vision felt blurry. My lungs were full of too many questions and not enough air.
“What if I’m not enough?” I whispered.
Nova didn’t flinch. “Then you’ll grow. And if you break, we’ll help you gather the pieces. But you are not weak. You are uncertain. That’s not the same thing.”
I shook my head, trying to breathe through the knot in my throat.
“I don’t know how to lead something this big. I barely know how to lead myself. I’m still figuring out what kind of magic I even have. I’m still grieving my old life. My daughter’s gone. My mother’s a mystery. I didn’t come here expecting to become some chosen key to an ancient place.” I met her eyes, my voice cracking. “I just wanted to feel like I belonged again.”
Nova’s expression didn’t shift. She let me spill it all.
When I was done, she gently tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “That,” she said, “is exactly why the Academy chose you.”
I frowned. “What?”
“Because you’re real. Because you feel. Because you don’t pretend to be perfect or wise or unshaken. The magic here doesn’t need a statue on a pedestal. It needs someone who will walk through the cracks and still choose to love what’s broken.”
Tears stung behind my eyes, but I blinked them back.
Nova sat fully now, cross-legged on the floor beside me, her hands folded in her lap.
“The Ward is unraveling,” she said, quieter now. “Not because of Gideon. Not because of a curse. But because you’re stretching. You’re growing. And growth looks a lot like breaking at first. The seed of doubt is powerful. The Butterfly Ward is showing you just how powerful it can be.”
“How destructive,” I said softly and stared out the window. The arch looked smaller from here. Distant. Fragile in a way it never had before.
“True.”
“What if I can’t fix it? Fix my self-doubt?” I asked.
Nova smiled. “Then you’ll ask for help. And we’ll fix it together.”
The fire in the brazier cracked.
The crystals on the table pulsed gently.
Something I hadn’t realized was clenched inside me, and it began to loosen slightly.
No bond to Gideon.
No tether to the past.
Just a wound where doubt had taken root.
Nova reached for my hand again, her grip warm and firm.
“We’re going to start with the heart,” she said. “And we’ll see what blooms.”
I stood up too fast, the cushions beneath me sighing as I left them. The energy in my chest had shifted again. It was no longer the soft unraveling of fear, but something sharp and hot and sparking at the edges.
Anger.
At myself.
I walked a tight circle near the window seat, then crossed the room to the shelf cluttered with drying herbs, jars, and little stone animals carved by hand. I didn’t touch anything; I just stood there, fists tight at my sides, the scent of mugwort still curling in my nose.
“I can’t believe I let it in,” I muttered.
Nova didn’t ask what. She knew. She stayed on the floor, cross-legged, patient.
“Self-doubt,” I hissed. “Of all the things.”
I turned around and paced again, my boots whispering over the stone floor. “I’ve made it to my mid-forties without it taking over. Even when my husband spent years acting like I was a piece of furniture. Even when I cooked and cleaned and smiled, he did whatever he thought was more important than being married to me. I still knew who I was.”
Nova said nothing. She just watched me with that quiet awareness that always felt like permission to be as messy as I needed.
“I left that life,” I went on, the words tumbling faster now. “I left it. I started over. I rebuilt myself from the ground up or am building myself up. I found a whole damn magical town, for crying out loud. Fell headfirst into a cottage with a gargoyle clan who judges my tea preferences and a goblin who thinks sarcasm is a form of affection.”
A short laugh escaped me, dry and wild. “And I’ve got an elderly vampire who gives me lip service and teaches me divorce spells like they’re ancient texts. I mean, I am doing great. ”
I turned back toward the window seat, throwing my hands in the air. “So why now? Why now do I suddenly think I’m not enough? Why is this the moment my brain decides to send me spiraling?”
Nova smiled faintly, but didn’t speak. She knew better than to interrupt.
“I was fine when it was just me,” I said, quieter now. “When I was navigating strange books and talking foxes and ghosts with opinions. I could handle that. But the second the Academy said I was chosen—” I swallowed hard. “That’s when it started.”
Nova rose to her feet and walked to where I stood. She didn’t touch me, just stood nearby, anchoring me with her presence.
“You’re not doubting yourself because you’re weak, Maeve,” she said gently. “You’re doubting because for the first time, it matters. Deeply. And you care. Doubt has entered because you’re strong, and you’re strong enough to handle what’s ahead.”
I looked at her. My throat was tight again, but not with fear. With frustration.
“I don’t want to fail,” I said.
“You won’t,” she replied. “Not as long as you keep getting back up.”
“I don’t even know what I’m doing,” I whispered. “I’m just guessing. Every day.”
Nova’s smile deepened. “That’s what leading is, most of the time. Anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something.”
I let out a breath, shaky but full.
I wasn’t broken.
I was becoming.
And I knew exactly where I was needed.