Chapter Twenty-Five #2
My knees gave out.
Nova caught my arms before I hit the ground, while Twobble grabbed my sleeve with a startled yelp.
“Maeve!” he shouted.
The darkness disappeared, and I was somewhere else entirely.
The courtyard dissolved.
Stone rose around me, smooth and black, lit by slow-burning torches that gave off more shadow than light.
I stood at the far end of a long hall, and the Priestess stood at the other.
Mariselle didn’t move when I appeared. She simply watched me the way a predator watches prey. They’re interested, patient, and already certain how it would end.
“So,” she said at last, her voice echoing softly against the walls. “You found the thread.”
My heart hammered in my chest. “Where is she?”
The Priestess tilted her head slightly, as if amused that I’d skipped every other possible question.
Behind her, movement caught my eye.
A figure stood several steps back in the dim torchlight.
My mother.
I couldn’t tell if her hands were bound at the wrists. Her shoulders were straight, but her face looked pale in the flickering light.
“Mom!” I took a step forward.
The hall stretched strangely beneath my feet, as though the distance between us refused to shorten.
My mother’s head lifted a little, like she felt something shift in the air.
But she didn’t speak.
“Careful,” the Priestess said mildly. “You’ll exhaust yourself chasing distance that isn’t real.”
My hands curled into fists. “Let her go.”
A faint smile touched her mouth.
“You’re still thinking in terms of release and rescue,” she said. “How quaint.”
My stomach twisted. “Is she hurt?”
The Priestess didn’t answer.
Instead, she turned slightly, glancing back toward my mother as though checking the placement of a piece on a board.
“Your daughter is stubborn,” she said over her shoulder.
My mother didn’t respond. She simply looked forward, her gaze steady and unreadable.
Rage flared hot in my chest.
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not standing here.”
The Priestess’s attention returned to me.
“Oh, you are very much standing here,” she said. “Which is exactly why this conversation is worth having.”
I shook my head. “If you think I’m joining you—”
“You have already given me so much,” she interrupted gently.
“I have not.”
“You’ve awakened the Academy,” she said, as if explaining something obvious. “You’ve stirred the Wards. You’ve drawn every wandering creature in this valley closer to those walls.”
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
“You’ve done more in months than the covens managed in a century.”
I looked around me as if memorizing every stone, every line, and every curvature could save my mom.
“That doesn’t mean I belong with you.”
“No,” she said thoughtfully. “Not yet.”
The torches flickered as if joining in the conversation, and behind the Priestess, my mother shifted her weight slightly, and that’s when I saw no shackles, ropes, or anything keeping her there.
“What are you doing to her?” I asked.
The Priestess followed my gaze again.
“Nothing she didn’t willingly step into.”
I shook my head. “That’s not answering my question.”
The Priestess had already turned her back to me.
“You care about Stonewick,” she said softly. “The Academy. The town. These scattered little factions pretend they can coexist. It’s something to admire if it weren’t so pitiful.”
Her voice was calm, almost conversational, but I refused to entertain her ridicule.
My body pulsed with an ache that was almost unbearable as our connection remained tight.
“You’re trying very hard to hold them together.” She turned around and studied me.
“Someone has to.”
She shook her head. “And you will fail.”
The certainty in her voice scraped against my nerves, but I knew better. I had a choice. I had hope.
“Maybe,” I said. “But it won’t be the shadows that take us.”
She studied me for a few seconds, and behind her, my mother finally lifted her head fully.
For a second, just a second, our eyes met.
I couldn’t tell if she could actually see me or if she was only sensing something in the air.
But the look on her face wasn’t fear.
It was warning.
“Let her go,” I said again, bringing my gaze back to my grandmother.
The Priestess folded her hands loosely in front of her as a goblin walked up behind her with a cup of something she took.
“You misunderstand,” she said, sipping. “Your mother isn’t leverage.”
“Then what is she?”
Her eyes narrowed on me. “She’s simply a demonstration.”
The hall seemed to grow colder.
“I don’t need a demonstration.”
“From where I stand,” she said, “you do.”
My pulse pounded in my ears as I felt the words I’d wanted to say for so long hover close to my heart.
“I’m not joining you.”
Her expression didn’t shift.
“And I’m not helping you,” I added. “Not now. Not ever.”
For a moment, the hall went very quiet, and then the Priestess laughed.
Not loudly.
It was a soft, knowing sound.
Mariselle nodded once, as if confirming something she had suspected all along.
“We shall see.” The torches flared, and her gaze stayed on mine. “You think you stand against the shadows,” the Priestess murmured. “But I recognize you, Maeve. You’re not afraid of them the way the others are. One day, you’ll stop pretending you are.
The hall shattered like glass, and the courtyard of the Academy slammed back into place around me, and I was too weak to get up.