Magical Meaning (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #8)

Chapter One

The Academy doors were open before I’d even asked them to be. It was as if this place knew midlife students were on the way. And who was I fooling? Of course it did. Many had already arrived before we’d left to confront the orcs, but now, the doors were officially open for autumn.

Morning light spilled across the stone threshold in a wide, welcoming band, warming the foyer in a way that felt nearly ceremonial.

Fall was my favorite time of year, and this morning gave me a few minutes of reprieve as I admired the curling vines along the archway that had loosened their tight, inward curl and were stretching outward again, green and silver-veined, as if satisfied with whatever decision had been made overnight.

However, it was too bad nobody told me what that decision was, because life felt like a lot, and the choices we would be facing were even more. But I watched students drift in twos and threes up the steps and through the doors, and I knew without a doubt, this was where I was meant to be.

Some midlife students returned with confidence, laughing loudly, suitcases bumping against their knees, and cloaks slung over their shoulders as if they’d never left. I knew I would need to count on them with what was ahead.

But there were plenty of others who hovered just beyond the threshold.

They’d blink up at the gold pillars and floating orbs as if they’d stepped into a dream they weren’t sure they were allowed inside of, and I remembered that feeling like it was yesterday.

The Academy’s beauty would even make the enemy pause to take it all in.

The Academy hummed beneath my boots as if to agree with me, and I took this moment in.

“Name?” Twobble barked from behind a small table.

He stood on a stack of books to reach eye level, and the woman standing directly in front of him looked extremely nervous, clutching a carpetbag.

She blinked down at him. “Um. Matale Lonton.”

“Spell specialty?”

“I— I don’t know yet.”

He narrowed his eyes as if this were personally offensive. “Suspicious.”

Behind him, Skonk was attempting to hand out packets with all the quiet efficiency of someone who had already accepted that the day wouldn’t go according to plan.

“Twobble,” I called gently.

He didn’t look at me. “I’m vetting.”

“You’re interrogating,” I warned.

“Fine line.” He shrugged. “You know the dangers that lurk. We’re in terrible times.”

Matale gasped, and her eyes darted to me, silently pleading. “Terrible times?”

“No, not terrible. Just a transitioning time…a little more complex than usual, but you’re welcome here,” I said, stepping closer. “We figure out specialties and learn together.”

Her shoulders lowered an inch, and she wandered away.

Twobble sniffed. “I prefer fully educated. Less paperwork.”

“Since when do you do paperwork?” My brows lifted.

“I supervise paperwork,” he corrected loftily.

“Let’s try not to terrify the new students, okay?” I teased.

I spotted something pink on his shoulder. “Twobble, what is that on your shoulder?”

“No comment.”

“It looks like…a snail.”

My brow lifted. “With a horn.”

“I missed the toad,” he announced.

“You missed my ex-husband?”

“I didn’t always see him that way. Sometimes, I saw him as dinner, sometimes I saw him as entertainment. The point is… I realized I needed a companion. Preferably one without as much baggage as the amphibian.”

“So…?”

“She’s a sparkly slider, snailacorn, if you will.” He eyed me, cocking his chin up slightly. “I adopted her down in the UnderLoom.”

“Well, good to know. What’s her name?”

“Cindy.”

I chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“I don’t know. I thought she’d have a name like Sparklocia or something fancy.”

He patted her shell. “She’s fancy enough. Just wait until you see her sparkly snail slime trail. That was the one thing that irritated me about your ex. I couldn’t just track him down.”

A burst of laughter peeled from the corridor to my right, and Bella came striding in from the courtyard in front of the Academy. Her copper hair caught the light, fox ears angled forward with interest, but she still kept the rest of her human form.

“You’re terrifying the new ones,” she told Twobble cheerfully.

“I’m building resilience.” He eyed her and popped in a hard candy.

I spotted Nova standing near the entrance with that calm, knowing stillness.

She could always make me feel both reassured and mildly anxious.

Her raven-dark hair was braided back today, and her green eyes were moving over the incoming students with a subtle intensity.

It was as if she were sensing every single soul that walked inside.

“Enrollment feels stronger,” she murmured, coming closer.

“It does,” I said. “How are things going with the orc’s land?”

Nova let out a deep breath. “Skonk and Twobble sent a few goblins to collect samples. They should be back soon. Then we will know how or if we can reverse what the Priestess has done to their home.”

“If?”

She nodded, and I pushed the thought aside and looked over to see Keegan leaning against one of the pillars outside, arms folded, posture relaxed but watchful in the way that wasn’t relaxation at all.

A few of the shifters walking toward the Wilds nodded respectfully as they passed him.

He nodded back, chin dipping just slightly, the pack dynamics shifting without a single raised voice.

He caught my eye, and I knew he was asking if I was all right.

I gave him a small nod.

Mostly.

Ardetia emerged from the hall with a stack of schedules floating behind her like obedient birds.

Stella walked over to Twobble, handing him a scone from the tray of sweets and tea she balanced effortlessly in one hand. Steam curled upward in soft spirals from the tea, and I suddenly felt comforted again, even with everything we’d just faced near the hollows and all the uncertainty ahead.

“I brought fortification,” Stella announced.

“Are there seconds?” Twobble demanded.

She winked at him and handed Skonk one, too.

“Question remains.” Twobble eyed her.

Stella gave him a look that would have reduced a lesser creature to dust, but his question lingered. She squinted her eyes toward his shoulder.

“Is that a snail? What in the world?”

“I will not put up with being ridiculed based on pet selection.” Twobble rested a crumb on his bony shoulder near the snailacorn.

I took a mug from Stella, and the warmth seeped into my palms. This was what the Academy was about.

In this moment, the Academy felt exactly as it should, with students’ voices overlapping, and magic brushing along the edges of the corridors.

I chuckled when I saw a new witch gasp as a portrait waved at her, and a returning goblin student argued with a staircase that insisted on curving when it hadn’t last term.

It was my version of found family in motion.

Yet still, the thought of Gideon pressed deep.

After the meeting with the orcs, he had vanished. His departure wasn’t in a dramatic burst of shadows or a theatrical cloak rippling behind him.

It was simply that one minute, Gideon was present, and the next, he was nowhere to be found.

My fingers tightened slightly around the mug.

“Don’t spiral,” Nova said quietly beside me.

Her words startled me. “I wasn’t.”

“You were.” She glanced at me. “I can see it in your eyes, and I can feel it in the air.”

I exhaled slowly and smiled at her. She was always so…calm.

“I can’t decide what worries me more,” I admitted softly. “That Gideon is acting alone. Or that he isn’t. And he helped us. I think that unsettles me most. Has he aligned with us or…”

Keegan’s posture shifted, and he walked inside toward us.

“Gideon won’t align easily,” he said. “Not with anyone.”

“It felt like he did, at least a little bit.”

Keegan nodded, but I knew he’d never trust the man who’d cast the curse.

“He didn’t have to show up for us, and the Priestess could have gained leverage,” I pressed. “But he did show up.”

Across the foyer, a group of new students paused beneath the floating orbs. They lifted their eyes in awe. One reached up carefully, fingertips brushing the edge of light. The orb brightened, delighted, and then burst like a bubble.

I could feel the Academy’s approval.

“The Priestess is planning,” I continued, lowering my voice. “She never moves without a long game. Showing herself in Stonewick wasn’t impulsive. It was a placement. Getting the orcs to move was her play.”

“But getting the orcs to trust us was ours.” Stella handed Ardetia a mug. “Priestesses with long games are exhausting, though.”

“Agreed,” Twobble called from across the room. “Short games. Snack-based games. That’s my preference.”

Bella laughed, and the sound eased the tightness in my chest, and I needed that because it was difficult to focus on the moment, the present.

But the Priestess was never far from my mind.

She might not be clawing at the Academy or battering our Wards, but she was waiting, and I was learning that waiting was her most dangerous move.

“She feels you,” Nova said softly.

“I know.”

Nova’s gaze drifted toward the eastern windows. The trees just beyond swayed in an easy rhythm from the fall breeze, while my birthmark pulsed a faint, steady warmth.

Recognition.

I thought about what the Priestess might be doing, possibly sitting in her study, opening the drawers in her desk, speaking with shadows…But I could see her tilt her head slightly, listening.

Always listening.

Twobble’s voice cut through the thought.

“Absolutely not,” he declared. “We don’t duel before orientation. Put your wands back, and fill out the form first.”

A burst of startled laughter followed from a group of witches, who did as he said, each tucking their wands back and replacing them with a pen and paper.

I closed my eyes for half a breath and let the scene unfold and center me.

This.

This was why we held the line and stood strong for the Academy, the orcs, and all magical folk.