Chapter Twenty
The Academy felt different the moment I stepped inside.
Students filled the halls and gathered in small groups.
I spotted others weaving between tables that definitely hadn’t been there the night before.
The witches carried baskets, bundles, jars, and were moving with the kind of busy purpose that spreads when everyone suddenly has something useful to do.
Near the front doors, someone had lined up a row of crates. I walked over and saw folded blankets, tins of salve, bundles of dried herbs tied neatly with twine, and because apparently no gathering in Stonewick could exist without them, far too many pastries.
I was staring at care packages for the orcs and shifters and anyone else who needed them.
My heart squeezed with something special as I scanned the large area, seeing witches hard at work.
Never did I think that we’d be scraping away fear and replacing it with hope and practicality so quickly. The orcs and shifters who had chosen, somehow, to stand with us instead of against us, and the students knew what that meant.
My chest tightened at the sight of it.
One student hurried past with flour-dusted cheeks. Another laughed behind me, and a goblin witch held up a small jar of honey, offering it to a nervous shifter waiting outside the door.
These looked like simple things, but they would change the course of the Academy.
And it looked like the Academy was letting it happen.
It felt as if this building approved, and it made me wonder about what was ahead, about letting the shifters and orcs roam these halls to learn our ways.
The craft of it all.
The front doors were open just enough to let crisp air pour in from outside, and beyond the barrier of the Butterfly Ward, faint, shimmering shapes moved. Orc shoulders like boulders and shifter silhouettes that kept shifting, never quite committing.
And the students kept moving too, arranging, delivering, and offering.
Someone had stationed a pair of kitchen sprites at the edge of the hall, moving back and forth with high speed and handing out cups of cider and tea to those in need.
“Maeve!”
Nova came at me like a storm in human form. She was usually so measured, controlled, and not a hugger. She crossed the hall in three long strides and wrapped me in an embrace so fierce it knocked the air out of my lungs.
I stiffened for a split second out of pure surprise, and quickly melted into it, because the truth was I hadn’t realized how badly I needed to be held until someone did it without asking permission.
Nova smelled like rosemary, smoke, and old paper.
Her arms tightened around me for a second.
That was when I felt it—the weight behind the hug.
Nova didn’t hug people unless something was wrong.
I pulled back a little so I could see her face.
Her eyes were bright—too bright. Her mouth was trying for a smile and not quite landing it.
“I’m so sorry, Hedge Witch.” Nova ran her fingers along my hair as if assessing my state of mind by hairstyle.
Before I could answer, Ardetia appeared at my side, but she didn’t rush the way Nova had. She simply arrived, quiet and certain, but her arms wrapped around me.”
“You’re back,” she said softly. “I’m just…so sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“How are you managing?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted.
“Good.” Nova patted my shoulder. “Honesty is everything in moments like this.”
My eyes stung again, but I blinked the tears away.
“You look like you’re holding yourself together too tightly,” Ardetia observed.
Nova made a sound beside us, something between a snort and a sigh.
“That’s Maeve’s natural state,” she informed her. “Tightly held together like twine is twisting her into a bind, or maybe like a stubborn jar lid.”
“Thanks for that,” I said, deadpan.
Nova’s eyes softened, and she smiled. “You’re welcome.”
Ardetia glanced toward the open doors, toward the subtle shimmer of the Ward, toward the line of visitors outside.
“The care packages were a good idea.” Ardetia glanced at the students. “They’re being welcomed with open arms by both the orcs and the shifters.
“That’s so amazing.” And I meant it.
“How are you doing with…your mom’s absence?” Ardetia asked, reaching for my hand.
“Her choice to walk straight into the Priestess’s compound is something I can’t reconcile. I know she did it, and I’m sure she thinks she’s helping, but…”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Nova said softly.
“Exactly.” I nodded and let out a deep breath. “I’m getting different versions about how it happened, whether it’s from Twobble or my dad or even Gideon…”
Nova’s brows lifted. “Gideon?”
“Long story.”
She nodded and left it at that.
“I wish there was a way I could reenact it, follow what she did step by step.”
The words came out before I had time to think them through.
“Maeve—” Nova stopped herself.
“I have to find a way,” I insisted, the heat in my voice surprising me. “Because if I don’t… if I don’t walk the same path, if I don’t see what she saw and where it started and where it turned, my mind is going to fill in the gaps with the worst things it can imagine.”
Ardetia’s gaze sharpened, but she didn’t contradict me while Nova let out a controlled breath.
I’d seen that look before, and it usually meant Nova was deciding whether she could talk me out of something or help me, which told me she had a way.
Her eyes met mine.
“Tell me what you’re afraid you’ll find.” She studied me.
The question dug deep and got under my skin. Was that what it was about? Was I worried I’d see something I didn’t want to?
“Part of me is afraid that she didn’t leave on her own,” I said. “Or… maybe she did, but with the thought she could change her mother’s mind, or perhaps, her mind was clouded with something, and it wasn’t actually her will.”
Nova held my gaze, and there was no pity in her expression, just understanding.
“You think the Priestess did something to her,” Ardetia said calmly. “To get your mom to go to the edge of the Wilds.”
I nodded. “I do. Possibly brainwashing of sorts or whatever Priestesses do.”
“And you hope that would make you feel better,” Nova said softly. “But what if the answer makes you feel worse?”
I stopped, lifting a hand in frustration. I was running out of words, and the fear underneath them was getting louder.
Nova’s gaze flicked briefly to the side, toward the students, toward the doors, toward the Ward’s shimmering line.
“It’s very rare,” she said, bringing her gaze back to mine. “Not impossible. But rare.”
“From this far away,” Ardetia added, thoughtfully. “It’s pretty difficult to do.”
Nova gave a small nod. “Distance matters. Wards matter. Anchors matter. And your mother—” She paused, her expression tightening in a way that suggested she was choosing her next words with care. “Your mother is not a weak mind.”
The compliment didn’t help. If anything, it made my stomach turn because once again, it pointed to my mother choosing to walk into the compound.
“Strong minds can still be targeted,” I offered.
Nova didn’t argue.
“Yes,” Ardetia said quietly. “They can.”
I blinked a few times, trying to steady myself.
“Then what do we do? I can’t…Nova, I can’t just sit here and wait for her to… disappear. I’ve heard the stories about the Priestess’ previous kin. I don’t know how much time my mom has left.”
“Were there any clues?”
I sighed, knowing this wouldn’t exactly plead my case. “She left me a note.”
Nova and Ardetia’s expression softened at that bit of news. They knew what stories I meant, but the note also signaled premeditation.
“We don’t sit,” she said. “We’ll follow the trail. We’ll face what’s real before fear starts filling in the rest.”
My chest tightened.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“First,” she said quietly. “Tell us exactly what you know, where she was, when she left. Who saw her? What the note said.”
“I know,” I said too quickly. “Twobble saw her. Caleb saw her. The orcs saw her. There was a figure past the tree line—”
“Not all at once,” Nova said gently. “Breathe.”
I drew in a breath and let it out slowly while trying to make my body listen.
Ardetia glanced toward the doors again.
“We can’t leave the students alone,” she said under her breath.
“They aren’t alone,” Nova replied.
Only then did I notice how the Academy had quietly arranged itself around the chaos. Returning students were guiding the new ones, and teachers were spaced through the hall like steady posts. I spotted Professors Lainsley Turnel and Lara Benedim, keeping order and delegating only when needed.
Nova looked back at me. “Where do you want to start the reenactment?”
“Wait. You’re saying we should do it?” My fingernails dug into my palms.
“If it’s the only way to bring peace so that you can focus on the battles ahead, then…yes.” Nova’s gaze left mine as she glanced at the students. “Where do you want to begin?”
“We should start on the path she took,” I said. “From the gardens through the Wilds and…”
Nova’s expression shifted. “You want to physically walk it.”
“Yes.” I nodded, not knowing what else we could do.
Ardetia studied me for a moment, then glanced toward the doors, as if checking the world outside.
“We can’t recreate the exact moment that your mom made the decision,” Ardetia said quietly. “That belonged only to your mom. But we can follow the route she took and see what’s left behind in the energy that she left behind or any other magical clues.”
Nova nodded. “We’ll do it carefully. Together.”
“And with boundaries.”
“What do you mean? Won’t we just be walking it?” I asked.
“No, we have…other ways. The Academy knows much of what goes on in the hidden rooms, or the secret thoughts and decisions of the people roaming its halls long before the choice is ever made, and they're kept on premise.”
My heart skipped a beat. “You mean like the Flame Ward and the memory forges?”
“Yes, Hedge Witch. In a way. Follow me.” Nova led us through the hall, not toward the main doors, but toward a side corridor that curved into quieter parts of the Academy. The noise behind us softened, replaced by the hush of stone and the low murmur of distant activity.
As we walked, I caught glimpses of students at work—one carefully tying twine around a bundle of herbs, another stirring a pot with determined seriousness while a kitchen sprite supervised with the intensity of a general.
A witch looked up as we passed and gave me a small smile, and it was exactly what I needed.
Nova slowed near one of the old tapestries, its colors dulled to mauve and brown, hanging on the wall. Her fingers moved over it, and the threads shimmered to life.
She glanced at it and over at me.
“You want to follow her footsteps,” she said. “But you also want to know why she crossed that boundary with the Priestess, her intention.”
“Yes.”
Nova’s eyes sharpened. “Then we don’t just walk. We read.”
“Tarot?” I asked.
Ardetia’s gaze flicked between us. “You’re thinking about the Academy’s memory.”
Nova nodded once. “It remembers movement. Not everything. But when magic is involved, especially dark magic, it leaves an impression.”
My pulse picked up.
“You can do that?” I asked quietly.
“I can do a lot of things that you haven’t even thought to ask about, and so can the Academy.” Nova’s smile said even more.