Chapter Three
I should have felt vindicated as Twobble carried a platter of lavender cream cheese pastries into the Academy’s banquet hall, as if conquering a baking spell was all my new world asked of me.
After all, I’d even managed with Keegan and Twobble’s help to multiply the pastries.
Instead, I felt like my life was balancing on a tightrope that was about to be severed.
A sea of new witches wandered through the banquet hall as I spotted Stella, Nova, Bella, and Ardetia eagerly chatting with them. I saw Lady Limora, Vivienne, Opal, and Mara gathered near some of the vampire witches in the corner, and I reminded myself that this was what it was all about.
Community and strength.
Petrah Lineo, Lemonia Prose, and Lainsley Turnel, some of our newer professors, were huddled near the buffet table where Twobble, Keegan, and I went to put down the platter of pastries.
My dad came over, and I gave him a quick hug.
His arms wrapped around me, solid and warm, and for a moment, I let myself lean into it, breathing in that familiar comfort.
“You look tired,” he said quietly, pulling back just enough to study my face.
“I made pastries,” I replied, as if that explained everything. “Using magic.”
He let out a small laugh. “That’ll do it.”
Twobble puffed up beside us, already reaching for one of the pastries like he hadn’t just carried them across the entire Academy with the pride of a royal procession.
“They’re flawless,” he announced, popping one into his mouth before anyone could argue otherwise. “A masterpiece. A triumph. A moment that will be written into goblin history. My mom will be proud.”
Keegan shook his head under his breath as he reached for a plate. “You ate more before anyone else tried them?”
“I was ensuring quality.”
Keegan winked at the goblin. “You were ensuring you got the first one.”
Twobble waved him off. “Leadership requires sacrifice.”
I smiled despite myself and turned slightly as Petrah Lineo approached, her ivy-trimmed hat tilted just so, her gaze landing on the pastries with immediate interest.
“Are these the lavender ones I’ve heard whispers about already?” she asked.
“They are,” I said, gesturing toward the platter. “And they didn’t explode.”
“No, they just caught on fire,” Twobble quipped.
Lemonia Prose stepped closer, her fingers still faintly ink-stained as she adjusted her glasses. “That’s promising.”
“But they are perfection.” Twobble grinned.
“That’s the highest compliment I’ve received all day,” I admitted, trying to keep the lightness in my voice as I glanced around the room again, because it mattered.
This gathering mattered. These women were stepping into something new, something uncertain, and trusting us to guide them, to teach them, to keep them safe.
Laughter rose near the far table where Stella was holding court, her shawl draped dramatically as she poured tea and told some story that had Bella leaning in with a grin and Ardetia watching with that calm, observant expression she rarely let slip.
Nova stood just behind them, her green eyes scanning the room in a way that looked casual to anyone who didn’t know her, but I did, and I knew she was tracking every shift, every whisper, every flicker of magic that didn’t quite sit right.
“We did this,” I said quietly, more to myself than anyone.
Keegan’s gaze followed mine. “You did.”
I shook my head slightly. “We did.”
Twobble swallowed and nodded. “Yes, well, mostly me.”
“Of course,” I said dryly.
My dad nudged my shoulder. “It looks good, Maeve. Really good.”
“It has to be,” I said, though the words didn’t carry the confidence they should have. “Because everything else feels like it’s waiting to fall apart.”
The shift in my tone didn’t go unnoticed.
Lainsley’s posture straightened just slightly. “We’ve heard some of the rumors,” she said carefully. “About Shadowick. About the Priestess.”
Petrah’s gaze softened, though there was a sharpness beneath it. “Rumors have a way of growing when they’re left alone.”
Lemonia nodded. “And when information is scarce.”
I pressed my lips together, glancing toward Keegan before looking back at them, weighing what to say and how much to say in a room that was supposed to feel welcoming, steady, and safe.
“We’re handling it,” I said finally, keeping my voice even. “But there are… developments.”
Twobble cleared his throat, suddenly far less interested in the pastries. “That’s one way to put it.”
Keegan stepped in before the conversation could spiral. “The Priestess is moving pieces. That’s all anyone needs to know for now.”
Petrah’s fingers brushed lightly against the edge of the table, her expression thoughtful. “Movement suggests intention.”
“It does,” I agreed quietly.
“And the dungeons?” Lainsley asked, her voice low enough that it didn’t carry beyond our small circle. “Is it true?”
My stomach tightened at the word, the image rising uninvited, heavy and cold.
“They’re being prepared,” I said, not looking away this time. “We don’t know how quickly things will shift. But we know enough.”
Lemonia exhaled softly. “Then time is not on our side.”
“No,” I said. “It isn’t.”
For a moment, the noise of the room seemed to dull around us, like the world had taken a step back to give space to what we were saying.
Keegan’s hand brushed mine again, not grabbing, not pulling, just there, steady, reminding me I wasn’t carrying this alone even when it felt like I was.
“And Gideon?” Petrah asked, her gaze flicking briefly toward Keegan.
“Gone.”
Twobble huffed. “Vanished. Disappeared. Pulled one of his signature exits.”
“Did he leave any indication of where he might go?” Lainsley asked.
“No,” Keegan said before I could answer. “Nothing useful.”
Across the room, Stella’s laughter rang out again, bright and full, pulling my attention back to the present, to the women gathered here, to the Academy humming beneath our feet like it believed in something stronger than fear.
“We can’t let this become the only thing we focus on,” I said, straightening slightly. “Not today. These witches deserve a semester that isn’t overshadowed by what’s coming.”
Lainsley inclined her head. “Then we give them that.”
Petrah smiled softly. “And we prepare quietly.”
Lemonia adjusted her glasses. “Information can be gathered without alarm.”
Keegan nodded. “That’s the plan.”
Twobble perked up again, as if the shift back toward normalcy gave him permission to return to himself. “And in the meantime, we eat pastries.”
I glanced at him. “Of course you’d bring it back to that.”
“It’s important,” he said seriously. “Morale.”
My dad chuckled. “He’s not entirely incorrect.”
I shook my head, though a small smile tugged at my lips as I picked up one of the pastries and broke it open, the soft lavender scent rising again.
“Alright,” I said, looking back at the group. “We keep things moving. Classes, introductions, structure. We don’t let the Academy feel what’s pressing at the edges.”
“And when it does?” Keegan asked quietly.
I met his gaze, the weight of everything settling into place where it belonged.
“Then we’ll be ready for it.”
Stella walked over, reached for a pastry, and Twobble slapped her hand away, which made her chuckle as she grabbed one anyway.
“You all look like you're having quite the conversation,” Stella said.
The other teachers drifted away, and I let out a sigh.
“The Priestess is preparing the dungeons,” I explained.
“And there is no sign of Gideon,” Keegan added.
“Which means he’s either protecting the stone,” Stella said slowly, “or positioning himself somewhere we haven’t considered.”
“Or both,” I added.
Stella’s gaze lingered on me. “And you believe the stone is still beyond the Priestess’ reach.”
“For now,” I said, the words feeling heavier the moment they left my mouth.
“That ‘for now’ carries a great deal of weight,” she replied gently.
“It does,” I admitted.
Stella waved her hand in the air and shrugged. “Those are just logistics. We have heart, hope, and the intention to do what is right.”
My birthmark warmed, but what concerned me was that the shadow mark felt like ice. Keegan noticed me reaching for it, and I dropped my hand immediately.
As a large group of midlife witches came over to the buffet table, I smiled and welcomed them, offering pastries and small reassurances as they introduced themselves one by one, their voices filled with that mix of excitement and hesitation I remembered so well.
Names floated past me, bits of laughter, nervous energy, hope stitched into every word they spoke, and I nodded along, doing my best to stay present even as that cold sensation from the shadow mark lingered just beneath the surface.
“You made these?” one woman asked, holding up a pastry like it might vanish if she blinked.
“I did,” I said, keeping my tone light. “With a little help.”
Twobble puffed up immediately. “A lot of help.”
Keegan’s shoulder brushed mine, and I leaned into that for just a second before stepping aside to let them gather around the table.
Stella watched them with a soft smile, her gaze warm in a way that made the room feel fuller, safer, even as everything inside me said that safety was thinning by the minute.
“You’re doing well,” she murmured, low enough that only I could hear.
“I don’t feel like I am,” I admitted.
“That’s how you know you are,” she replied, already turning to refill a teacup like she hadn’t just said something that stuck with me more than I wanted it to.
I glanced at Keegan, and he was watching me again, not pressing, not questioning, just there, waiting for me to decide what came next.
But I saw something else stirring behind his gaze, and I knew I needed to ask him about Rendel today.
He couldn't just hide the surprise and hurt for the rest of his life.
“I need a moment,” I said quietly.
Keegan nodded once. “I’ll keep things steady here.”
Twobble pointed at me with a pastry. “Don’t go too far.”
“You’ll survive,” I said, though a small part of me wished I could believe that for all of us.
I slipped away from the buffet table, weaving through clusters of conversation and flickers of magic, past Bella as she demonstrated something small and clever with a strand of light, past Nova whose eyes tracked me for a brief moment before she gave the smallest nod, as if she already knew where I was going.
The farther I moved from the center of the room, the quieter it became, the buzz of voices fading just enough to let my thoughts catch up with me.
The shadow mark pulsed again.
Colder this time.
I stopped near the edge of the hall, my breath catching as that sensation sharpened. I straightened my shoulders and walked out of the banquet hall towards the front door.
“Maeve.”
I looked up at the sound of Karvey’s voice, and he stood just near the massive doors. He had his wings tucked in tight, his expression set in a way that made something uneasy twist in my stomach. He rarely came to the Academy grounds, so this was extremely worrisome.
“I was looking for you,” he said.
“I had a feeling something shifted.” I touched the shadow mark briefly.
His gaze flicked briefly toward the hall behind me, then back again. “There’s been another report.”
My heart sank. “From Shadowick?”
“The compound.” He nodded once. “From Horny’s contact.”
Even worse.
I pressed my lips together. “What now?”
Karvey stepped closer, lowering his voice even further. “The Priestess is no longer waiting.”
The cold from the shadow mark spread, slow and deliberate, and I had to fight the instinct to reach for it again.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means the dungeons are expecting new arrivals,” he said. “The cells are being prepared.”
The words landed hard.
“For my mom?” I whispered.
Karvey hesitated.
Just long enough.
And that was all I needed.
My stomach dropped, the room tilting just slightly as everything I’d been holding together threatened to slip.
“There’s more,” he added.
I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Say it.”
His eyes held mine, steady and unyielding.
“Our informants believe the Priestess has already begun the ritual.”
The world didn’t stop.
It kept moving behind me, laughter and conversation and the soft clink of teacups carrying on as if nothing had changed.
But everything had.
“She doesn’t have the stone,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Karvey’s expression didn’t shift.
“No,” he said. “But she’s not waiting for it anymore.”