Chapter Two
My heart sank. It shouldn’t have. After all, that was what Gideon did. He never stayed long enough to be found, to be vulnerable, or to finally settle down and make alliances. In hindsight, even the same could be said for when he was in Shadowick. Today, appeared to be no different.
I glanced at Keegan, and his eyes stayed on mine. “Did he give any hint where he might be going?”
“No, but his room was cleared out.”
I chuckled and rolled my eyes. “At least he's consistent.”
The shadow mark, as we termed it, itched slightly. I pressed my palm over it. Ever since the injury, it felt like some weird form of communication I wanted no part of. But it seemed like the scar was here to stay. Keegan's gaze followed my hand as I pressed it along the scar.
“Is it bothering you?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Just a little. Could be worse.”
He smiled and nodded. “You sound like me.”
“Hazard of staying in Stonewick.”
Twobble cleared his throat. “Not to break up this little lovefest. But we had one job to do. And that was to make my mother's famous lavender cream cheese pastries. That was it. And if you can all turn your attention to the kitchen, you can see that we have nothing but ash.”
I nodded, knowing the weight of Gideon's disappearance would have to wait for another time. There was a potluck for new witches at the Academy. And Stella had promised the kitchen sprites a day off.
I let out a slow breath and turned toward the kitchen, because Twobble wasn’t wrong, and the faint curl of smoke drifting from the counter didn’t exactly scream success.
“Well,” I said, stepping past Keegan and brushing my hand lightly along the edge of the table as I went. “At least my spell wasn’t explosive this time.”
“No, just flammable,” he teased.
“It finally pooped out,” Twobble informed us.
“Pardon?” I asked.
Twobble hopped up onto the kitchen counter and peered down at the sad little pile of ash.
“It was perfect,” he said, shaking his head. “It had structure. It had form. It had purpose. And then it just… gave up.”
“It caught on fire,” I corrected gently, reaching for a clean bowl and setting it on the counter with a soft clink. “That’s not the same thing as giving up.”
“It felt like it gave up,” he insisted, shaking his head.
I laughed as Keegan lingered in the doorway for a moment before stepping in.
“What do we need?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves.
The early light caught in his hair, and for a second, the kitchen felt warmer, steadier. Keegan always had this way of making things okay again.
I paused, glancing between the ingredients scattered across the counter, the jars of lavender, the small pot of honey, butter, and the softened cream cheese waiting for another spell.
“Everything, but let’s start with not setting it on fire.”
“That seems reasonable, if nothing else,” he replied, scratching his head.
Twobble snorted. “Low expectations. I like it.”
I reached for the flour, and Keegan grabbed my hand.
“Why don't you try not measuring it by hand and letting the wand do the work?” He smiled. “Believe in yourself.”
“Or at the very least, the magic,” Twobble chortled.
“Okay,” I murmured, glancing up. “I’ll do it differently, but I think I should measure a few important things.”
Twobble leaned forward, suspicious.
“I can’t just throw magic at it and hope for the best.”
Twobble eyed me.
“It gave us ash,” I insisted, giving him a look before turning to Keegan. “I should at least measure the flour. Can you… hold this steady while I cream the butter and sugar?”
He stepped closer without hesitation, placing his hands lightly on either side of the bowl as I added the next ingredients.
“Like this?” he asked.
“Exactly like that.”
Twobble tilted his head. “Why does he get a job?”
“Because he’s not criticizing the process,” I said.
“I could at least hold the bowl.” Twobble scowled.
“You would eat the dough.” My eyes focused on him. “I can see it in your eyes.”
He wiggled his finger. “That’s merely a possibility, not a guarantee.”
I bit back a smile and added the lavender as the scent rose immediately, weaving through the kitchen.
“Easy,” I whispered, more to myself than anything, lifting my wand and tapping the side of the bowl. “Blend.”
The ingredients slowly came together, and the dough formed smoothly, with no strange colors or ominous sounds.
Twobble blinked. “I don’t like how normal that looks.”
“Don’t jinx it,” I warned as Keegan dumped the dough onto the pastry board.
I recited the spell as my wand took over, and the pastry rolled out in tiny squares while cream cheese dollops floated steadily and dropped onto each pastry.
“Foldensia,” I said softly.
The edges tucked in neatly, sealing the filling inside, the shape forming with a kind of quiet confidence that made my chest tighten just a little.
Twobble leaned closer. “It’s working.”
“I know,” I whispered. “It’s making me nervous. We’re running out of time.”
I heard Miora and Elira rustling down below in the cellar. Maybe I should have had them make the pastries for the potluck.
Keegan glanced at me. “You’ve got this.”
I nodded. “Bake.”
The pastry began to rise as the golden color returned and the lavender scent deepened into something richer.
There weren't any sparks or flames, and no sudden disasters.
Twobble’s mouth fell open. “It’s… behaving.”
We all leaned in just a little, watching as the pastry settled into a perfect, golden shape that for once didn’t look like it had come straight out of my chaos-prone kitchen.
I lowered my wand, exhaling softly. “Okay.”
Twobble looked at me. “Okay?”
I laughed, the sound light and a little breathless. “Okay! I think we did it.”
He threw his arms in the air. “It didn’t explode!”
“It didn’t catch on fire!” I added.
Keegan’s mouth curved into a quiet smile as he stepped back. “I’d call that a success.”
I reached out, hesitating for just a second before gently lifting the pastry. It was warm and not a flaming disaster.
“Would you look at that,” I said, turning it slightly. “That actually looks like something people would eat.”
Twobble puffed up. “Of course it does. My mother’s recipe is flawless.”
“You doubted it five minutes ago.”
“I doubted you.” He snickered. “Not the recipe.”
I set it down on a plate, still half-expecting something to go wrong at the last second, but it just sat there, calm and perfectly ordinary in the best possible way.
For a moment, the kitchen felt… light.
Like maybe we could have this. A normal morning. A small win. Something that didn’t come with a shadow creeping in behind it.
But I already felt the heaviness Keegan had been carrying since he saw his father, Rendel, during our last unexpected greeting from the Priestess.
I'd tried bringing it up to Keegan many times, but he just kind of brushed it off in typical Keegan fashion.
I know it's bubbling up at the surface. I can feel it.
An aggressive knock at the door shattered that thought, and all three of us froze.
Twobble slowly lowered his arms. “That doesn’t sound like a ‘good morning’ kind of knock.”
“No,” I said quietly, the warmth from the kitchen slipping away just enough to let that familiar unease settle back in.
Keegan’s posture shifted as his gaze moved toward the door.
Another knock followed, just as solid as the first.
Before I could move, the door flung open, and a familiar shape walked inside, dust and grit falling in small cascades as Karvey unfolded his wings.
His expression seemed more serious than I’d ever seen it.
“Good. You’re decent.”
My brows lifted. “What did you think was going on?”
He ignored my question.
“Maeve,” Karvey said, his voice carrying that deep, steady weight that always made the room feel smaller. “We have a problem.”
My stomach dropped as uneasiness tightened in my chest.
Of course, we did.
“My cousin twice removed told Horny that the Priestess is getting antsy. Your mom is still considered safe, from what Shadowick’s gargoyles can see, but no one knows for how long. Your mom spends most of her days in her own quarters. But they saw the Priestess conspiring with a few rogue orcs.”
“So the priestess is trying to infiltrate through the hordes.” I nodded, feeling a sick sensation roll through my stomach. “It's only a matter of time before the Priestess finds the shadow stone and uses my mom's tears.”
“Did you mean to say that aloud because that felt more like a thought you’d keep to yourself?” Twobble muttered.
“I need to stop her before it’s too late.”
Keegan eyed me. “But you can't just roll through Shadowick or up to the Priestess' compound, Maeve. Too much is at stake, and we can't afford to lose you.”
“But I can't afford to lose my mom,” I said softly.
I cleared my throat and looked around the cozy cottage that usually brought me great comfort.
But I understood that first and foremost, I was the headmistress of Stonewick, and my responsibilities were to the Academy, the students, and the village.
And now that Gideon had left the inn, we were no closer to finding the stone.
Yet something deep inside me told me that not holding the shadow stone just yet was actually a gift because I wasn't certain I would make the right choices. I hadn't shared that with anyone, and I wasn't sure I ever would.
“We need to join the other witches at the Academy and make their schooling as normal as possible. The professors have been doing a wonderful job, and I am not about to mess up as headmistress.” I glanced at Karvey and noticed something in his eyes. “What aren't you telling me?”
“While your mom is currently in her own quarters, our Shadowick informants told us that they saw workers preparing the dungeons.”
My heart fell, and Keegan reached for my hand.
“For my mom?”
Karvey didn’t answer right away, and that told me everything I needed to know.
The room felt smaller somehow, like the walls had crept in just a little closer while I wasn’t paying attention.
The warmth from the kitchen, the soft scent of lavender and honey, even the quiet crackle from the hearth all faded into the background as that one thought took hold and refused to let go.
The dungeons.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry, as I tightened my grip on Keegan’s hand without thinking about it.
“She hasn’t been moved yet,” Karvey said carefully. “But they’re preparing.”
Preparing.
That word sat heavily in my chest.
I nodded slowly, though it didn’t ease anything. “That means she’s running out of time.”
No one argued with that.
Twobble shifted beside me, unusually quiet for once, his earlier excitement gone as he glanced between us and then toward the door like he half expected more bad news to come knocking.
Keegan’s thumb brushed lightly against my hand, and I focused on that instead of the image trying to form in my mind.
My mom alone.
Waiting.
Not knowing what was coming.
“They won’t just keep her there,” I said, more to myself than anyone else. “Not if the Priestess is already moving pieces into place.”
Karvey inclined his head slightly. “That’s our concern.”
I exhaled slowly, pressing my free hand against my shoulder where the shadow mark had begun to itch again, faint at first, then a little stronger, like it was trying to remind me of something I didn’t want to hear.
“The Priestess needs the tears,” I murmured, my voice quieter now. “My grandma won’t act until she’s ready to use them.”
The words felt wrong even as I said them.
Cold.
Calculated.
But true.
Keegan’s gaze didn’t leave mine. “Then we still have a window.”
“For how long?” I asked, shaking my head slightly. “A day? Two? We don’t even know where the stone is, and Gideon…” I trailed off, the frustration tightening in my chest. “He was the one who had it, and now he’s gone.”
Twobble cleared his throat, softer this time. “And he didn’t exactly leave a forwarding address.”
“No, he didn’t.”
Silence settled over us again, not comfortable this time, but heavy with everything we weren’t saying.
I looked around the cottage, at the small table, the scattered herbs, the pastry sitting there like it didn’t belong to the same world.
Now it all felt… distant, and mastering kitchen witchery seemed unimportant.
“I have to get to the stone first,” I said finally, the words coming out steadier than I felt. “If she gets it before I do, then it won’t matter where my mom is. It won’t matter what we do. My grandma will have everything she needs.”
Keegan’s jaw tightened slightly. “But you don’t know what it will do to you if you touch it.”
I didn’t answer that because I did know.
At least a part of me did.
And that part had been quiet about it.
Too quiet.
“I don’t have a choice,” I said instead, meeting his gaze. “Not this time.”
The shadow mark pulsed again, just once, sharp enough to make me flinch before I could stop it.
Keegan noticed.
Of course he did.
His grip on my hand tightened slightly. “Maeve—”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, though the words felt thinner than I wanted them to.
Karvey watched me, his stone features unreadable, but there was something in his eyes now that hadn’t been there before.
Concern or maybe something closer to warning.
“I understand your urgency,” he said, his voice steady. “But Shadowick is already shifting. If the Priestess is preparing the dungeons, she’s preparing for more than one move.”
I nodded, even as that sick feeling settled deeper in my stomach.
“I know,” I said quietly.
And that was the problem.
I knew exactly what she was capable of.
And I knew I was running out of time to stop her.