Chapter Three
The words still hovered between us, but I forced myself to stay steady.
Her gaze didn’t soften, but it sharpened into attention instead of challenge.
“I know you want to go home, and it doesn’t help that we now have a group coming from somewhere we weren’t expecting,” I continued.
“We didn’t come here to fight.”
“But rushing to go home,” I went on carefully, “would put us exactly where the Priestess wants us.”
That name landed heavier than any weapon.
“She destabilized your lands, created scarcity, and forced movement. She wanted you desperate and cornered. If you go back before the land can support you, you’ll be back where she can use you.”
The orc grunted and scanned her hoard.
“If we act from impatience now…if we create division here, we step directly into her design. We can’t afford a move born of frustration. Not when something else may already be moving toward us. We will get answers about your land and try our hardest to reverse what was done.”
Keegan stood beside me, silent but unmistakable in his agreement. Nova and Ardetia held their quiet posts behind us
I glanced at my cousin, who was scanning the orcs behind us.
The leader studied me for a long moment, and slowly, she closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, understanding threaded through her gaze.
“I will do my best to keep patience intact,” she said evenly. “I will tell my orcs what you have said. That haste feeds the one who starved us.”
It certainly sounded more eloquent when she said it.
“But,” she added, “it’s best if you return to your Academy. I don’t want anything happening to the one who promises our land back.”
I didn’t bristle.
“Thank you.”
“We will handle the new visitors,” she continued. “This is our perimeter as much as yours. We won’t feed and build off your lands without repayment of some sort.”
Caleb glanced at me, and I met his eyes.
He was ready to stay and stand in the space between.
I gave him a small nod of gratitude
“Caleb will remain,” I said, turning back to the leader. “He will help greet whoever approaches. He speaks on behalf of Stonewick.”
Keegan glanced at me as surprise washed over his face, and Caleb stepped forward.
“If they come with questions,” I added, “he will answer them.”
“And if they come with something else?” the leader asked.
Keegan’s hand brushed mine again.
“Then,” I said evenly, “we will respond together.”
The leader held my gaze a moment longer.
Then she inclined her head once.
It wasn’t a gesture of submission, but of accord.
Behind us, the wind shifted, and somewhere beyond the ridge, something moved closer.
My birthmark cooled as if it somehow agreed with my decision, or maybe it was just my nerves feeling frayed, and all parts of me were finally giving up.
The walk back felt longer without Caleb beside us.
The uncertainty of the orcs gnawed at me, and so much depended on what the goblins brought back.
Would it be weeks, months, or longer before the orcs could return?
And what about the shifters? Caleb spoke of the orcs' unrest, but I could feel the shifters as well.
I noticed their extra patrols and paces.
As we walked, Keegan kept pace at my side, close enough that our arms brushed every few steps. Nova and Ardetia followed just behind, quiet and thoughtful.
We didn’t speak at first, but Keegan broke the silence.
“Do you trust him?” Keegan’s gaze caught mine.
I didn’t need clarification, but I decided to say my cousin’s name anyway.
“Caleb.” I pressed my lips together and glanced up at the maple canopy. The limbs still clutched the leaves as if fall hadn’t arrived.
“Yes. I’m learning to,” I said finally.
And that was the truth of it. He’d been part of the pack that turned their backs on my father. They listened to Malore, not their own instincts.
But they were here now.
“They’re learning a new way.”
Keegan glanced at me. “That’s not the same as trust.”
“No,” I agreed. “It isn’t.”
“I wish I had your sense of trust and loyalty, Maeve. I really do, but I just…” He stopped and looked at me as Ardetia and Nova continued on.
“I know he followed Malore,” I continued. “It was Caleb’s pack. He believed in that structure. He believed in the strength that Malore defined. It kills me to think they made my father an outcast.”
“Your father paid for that,” Keegan said quietly.
“Yes.”
The word carried more history than I intended.
“But now Caleb is their leader, and he is choosing differently. There comes a point when, after asking for a change, we actually learn to accept it.”
It was hard for me to even say the words. My father had been shunned. He’d been pushed aside and labeled wrongly for not fitting the mold. Caleb had been part of that world and part of that decision.
But he wasn’t the architect.
Yet, he wasn’t innocent either. It was hard not to wonder why he hadn’t stopped it.
“I don’t forget that,” I said. “I don’t think I ever can.”
We started to walk again.
“He’s not excusing Malore. He’s not clinging to the old hierarchy just because it’s familiar.” I wanted to believe my own words.
“That doesn’t erase it,” Keegan said carefully.
“No,” I agreed again. “It doesn’t.”
Nova’s voice joined us, soft but clear. “Change is rarely instant. And it’s often uncomfortable. As you said, we can’t ask for change and then not support it as it’s happening. It takes time and many first steps and missteps.”
“That’s an understatement,” I muttered, chuckling out of nervousness.
“It is observant,” she corrected.
Keegan’s tone shifted slightly. “The shifters in the Wilds are watching him.”
“I know. It makes sense. He’s their new alpha.”
“They’re watching you too.” Keegan studied me. “Some of them are disturbed. I wouldn’t say they’re disloyal. Just… measuring.”
I heard another orc horn in the distance, but it didn’t worry me as before.
“Caleb is caught between worlds,” Nova said, and Keegan nodded.
“I worry if something fractures,” he continued, “he’ll be pulled.”
“Possibly,” Nova said simply.
That was the weight of it.
“I don’t trust him blindly,” I admitted. “But I believe he wants to do better.”
I thought of the midlife students filling the halls, the goblins pitching in to lend us a hand, the orcs' willingness to try our idea, and all of that mattered. Stonewick was built on second chances. We didn’t wither just because of some bad decisions or wrong turns.
“Caleb understands now what happened to my father,” I continued. “He sees it differently. He’s said as much.”
“Words are easy,” Keegan said.
“His actions haven’t been,” I countered gently. “He didn’t have to bring his pack to help with the orcs.”
That earned the faintest curve at the corner of Keegan’s mouth.
“When do you ever stop seeing the good in people?” he teased.
I laughed, the sound comforting me. In times like this, I needed it.
“It’s a defect. Sue me. But it’s not like I trust him with my life yet,” I said plainly. “I just respect his shift in morals.”
And that felt truer than most things I could come up with to say.
Nova inclined her head. “Transformation is rarely linear. It’s rare that you recognize that.”
“Life has taught me I don’t have much choice in the matter. Perfection doesn’t exist.” I shrugged as Ardetia turned and winked.
“Especially when it has to do with shifters,” she teased.
“So true.” I grinned and put the back of my hand to my forehead in a tease.
Keegan laughed. “Hey, now. Some of us are on the verge of perfection.”
We walked in silence again for a few minutes.
My thoughts drifted to Gideon at the Luminary.
He was so certain and composed in his choices and put his life on the line. He drew a line in the sand that screamed to the Priestess, I’m no longer yours.
But I didn’t know what all that meant. Was he still Shadowick’s?
I remember the look in his eyes before he left. It was as if Stonewick held something that rightfully belonged to him, and he was just helping us out until it was his time to retrieve it.
But he hadn’t sounded like a man chasing power. He had sounded like someone reclaiming an inheritance.
And the Priestess—
She never wanted just one thing.
She wanted more.
More territory. More influence. More claim over bloodlines and boundaries.
If the orcs cracked under impatience… if the shifters began to question leadership… she wouldn’t need to strike.
She would simply gather what fell. She’d thrive on the division and gain more power purely off others’ actions.
Keegan felt the shift in me immediately. “Where’d your thoughts take you?”
“Gideon,” I confessed, and I saw his jaw tighten slightly.
“He seemed certain,” I added. “About something we have.”
“Certainty doesn’t make him right.” He shrugged. “I can’t imagine anything the Academy has that is rightfully his.”
“No,” I said. “But it makes him dangerous.”
The trees thinned ahead, and the Academy came into view. Nova chose to stay in the Wilds with the shifters, and Ardetia moved toward the last of the gardens.
The stone archway caught the afternoon light as we walked around to the front of the building.
Relief moved through me quietly as I spotted the bramblemule grazing along the edge of the herb gardens, tearing lazily at thorned brush before they retreated for the season.
When we made it out front, a cluster of returning students sat on benches, laughing over exaggerated summer mishaps.
It looked normal.
It felt good.
It felt almost too peaceful.
Keegan followed my gaze.
“Calm, isn’t it?” I glanced toward the Butterfly Ward before we started toward the steps.
“You’re thinking it won’t stay this way.”
“Yes.”
He stepped a fraction closer as we crossed onto the stone, and he grabbed my hand.
“Whatever fractures,” he said quietly, “we handle it together.”
I smiled and nodded because that I didn’t question.
The Academy hummed beneath my boots, steady and warm.
And somewhere beyond the ridge, something was still marching toward the orcs, and I just hoped it wasn’t marching toward a crack we hadn’t seen yet.
But the Academy was apparently built for secrets, and when we climbed the steps and entered, I knew something was stewing.
The next wave of new students arrived, and the Academy watched. The sconces brightened, dimmed, and brightened again as if the Academy couldn’t decide whether it was delighted or offended by the audacity of all these midlife women hauling suitcases up its steps in one big rush.
Regardless of what just went down at the Hollows or what was arriving next to greet the orcs, we had an Academy to run, and the fall semester didn’t wait for anyone.
I glanced around to see the returning midlife witches, catching up with friends, and the new students trying to make their way to the front.
And one thing I noticed was that midlife witches often had a particular kind of energy. They were determined, maybe a little tired, and completely unimpressed by unneeded drama. And somehow, they were always wildly prepared in the most chaotic ways.
“Welcome to the Academy,” Twobble called, projecting far better than his size suggested. “If you’re new to the Academy, I need your name, magical leaning, and whether you’ve ever accidentally summoned anything with antlers, fangs, or things with scales.”
A woman in a wool cape paused mid-step. “Fangs?”
“It happens more than you’d think,” Twobble said briskly. “We don’t judge here. We just prepare. “
“Beginners to the left. Returning students to the right. If you’re unsure what you are, stand in the middle and look confident. It works surprisingly well.”
A tall woman raised her hand. “I did the Yule workshop online, but I wasn’t here last year. Does that count as returning?”
Twobble narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Did you set your curtains on fire?”
“No.”
“Then yes. I’d say you’re returning. Most beginning students can’t make it through that.”
I let out a sigh as Keegan held my hand. We would get through this. All of this. The new students. Getting the orcs back to their homes. The shifters back where they wanted to be. All of it.
But I knew that the central issue revolved around the Priestess.
My mother hadn’t wanted to talk about her mom growing up. Heck, my mom didn’t even want to acknowledge that magic existed.
But now my mom was willing to stand beside me and my dad as the world cracked and demanded choices. They’d both walked into danger because I was their daughter and because they loved me. But love didn’t automatically turn into truth.
And I needed truth.
I needed to know who the Priestess had been before she became the kind of threat that displaced entire magical populations. I needed to know what my mother knew. What she’d been hiding. What she’d been trying to outrun.