Chapter Thirty-One
Twobble moved before I could.
One second, he was beside me, and the next, he had planted himself squarely in front of me with both arms spread wide like a very determined, very undersized shield.
“Absolutely not,” he said firmly.
Skonk shuffled behind me at the same time, the movement surprisingly quick for someone who had eaten three pastries and possibly a fourth he hadn’t confessed to. He grabbed my broom and held it like a spear.
“I wouldn’t recommend moving toward the voice,” Skonk whispered.
I glanced back at him.
He lifted the broom slightly.
“I think now is the time we move away from it,” he added under his breath. “I’ve got your broom locked and loaded and ready to go.”
Despite the uneasy twist in my stomach, a small smile slipped out.
Nobody had that broom locked and loaded.
It had a mind of its own, and if anything, it had probably decided the rest of us were the passengers in this situation.
Twobble shifted his weight, still standing in front of me like a goblin-sized barricade.
“You heard the man,” he said. “Strategic retreat. Very dignified. Happens all the time.”
The voice didn’t call again, but the quiet ahead of us felt different now. It wasn’t empty. It was waiting.
I stepped around Twobble.
He immediately sidestepped with me.
“No,” he said.
I took another step forward.
He shuffled again.
“Maeve.”
Behind me, Skonk whispered, “We should probably go.”
“I’m just going to look,” I said.
“That,” Twobble replied darkly, “is how every bad decision in history begins.”
I kept walking.
The trail curved slightly, slipping deeper between the trees. Branches arched overhead, dimming the light until the gold of the afternoon faded into cooler shadows.
Twobble muttered something about heroic last stands but followed.
Skonk followed too, broom still clutched as if it might suddenly decide to participate in the situation.
The feeling of being watched grew stronger with each step.
It wasn’t a hostile sensation, not yet.
I slowed.
Somewhere ahead, a branch creaked softly.
Twobble froze, and Skonk stopped chewing.
“Okay,” Twobble whispered, “that was definitely not the wind.”
“Agreed,” Skonk said quietly.
My heart began to beat a little faster.
But the strange thing was… the fear wasn’t the sharp, icy kind I’d come to expect from Shadowick.
This felt different and almost familiar, somehow.
Like a memory I couldn’t quite reach.
I took another step and another.
The trees parted slightly to form a small clearing.
And someone stood there.
He wasn’t hiding.
He wasn’t moving.
He merely stood quietly as if he’d been waiting for us to arrive.
Twobble immediately spread his arms wider.
“Hold it right there!”
The man didn’t react.
He looked at me.
Only me.
Dark hair brushed the collar of his coat, wind-tossed in that careless way that made it look like he’d walked a long way to get here. His shoulders were squared, but not in the same solid, grounded way Keegan carried himself. There was something looser in the way he stood.
His eyes were brown.
Not the deep, storm-dark shade Gideon carried.
Not the warm gold-brown of Keegan’s.
Something in between.
And there was something about his face that made the back of my mind itch.
It felt as if I should know him or, at the very least, had seen him somewhere before.
But the memory stayed just out of reach.
Twobble cleared his throat loudly.
“Hello! Potential threat here! Very brave goblin standing in the way!”
The man still didn’t look at him.
His gaze stayed locked with mine.
Calm.
Steady.
Familiar.
“I’m glad you came,” he said.
The words sent a ripple through my chest.
I blinked at him.
“I didn’t have much choice.”
Behind me, Skonk whispered, “Technically, we did have a choice. It was you and the broom who…”
“Not helping,” Twobble hissed.
The man’s mouth curved slightly, like he’d heard them but decided not to comment.
“You always were curious,” he said softly.
I frowned.
“Do I know you?”
He tilted his head a little, studying me.
“In a way.”
Twobble made a small outraged noise.
“That is the least reassuring answer possible.” Twobble frowned.
Skonk muttered in agreement behind me. “Top five, easily.”
The man finally glanced at them.
He didn’t appear to be annoyed, and he certainly wasn’t threatened.
Perhaps, just mildly amused.
“Your friends are… loyal.”
“That’s one word for it,” I muttered, taking another step forward in front of Twobble
Twobble grabbed the back of my coat.
“No,” he whispered urgently.
But I was too focused on the man in the clearing.
The strange familiarity tugged harder the closer I got.
His face.
His voice.
Something about the way he held himself.
“Have we met?” I asked again.
“Not properly. Not that you’d remember.”
That didn’t help.
“Then why do you know my name?”
The man glanced briefly toward the trees behind us, as if checking something unseen.
Then he looked back at me.
His brows lifted in surprise. “Doesn’t everyone? The new headmistress of the Academy. You’re why the doors have opened again. You’re the reason the Priestess is worried.”
A cold thread slipped down my spine.
“Why?”
He hesitated.
For the first time since we’d found him, something uncertain crossed his face.
“That,” he said at last, “is a longer story.”
Twobble stepped forward immediately. “I vote we skip the story and go back to town.”
I noticed Skonk out of the corner of my eye, lifting the broom a little higher. “Still ready to go.”
The broom gave a small twitch in his hands, as if it objected to being talked about.
The man watched the movement with mild interest.
“That’s how you got here,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You were expecting that?”
“I was hoping.”
The forest stirred around us, leaves brushing together high overhead.
The air had changed. Something hung there now—tight and quiet.
I casually adjusted the wand in my waistband.
I wasn’t in danger, but I had the sense that something important was about to happen.
“Who are you?” I asked again.
For a moment, he didn’t answer.
His gaze searched my face like he was looking for something.
Finally, he said quietly,
“My name won’t mean much yet.”
Twobble groaned.
“Oh, great,” he muttered. “A mysterious riddle man.”
But he didn’t rise to it. He just kept going.
“I came because things are changing,” he said. “Faster than anyone expected.”
“That’s been the theme lately,” I said.
The corner of his mouth lifted a little.
“True,” he said. “But what’s coming next… that’s the part that matters.”
Behind me, Skonk leaned closer to Twobble.
“I don’t like this conversation,” he whispered.
“Me neither,” Twobble whispered back.
I folded my arms and looked at the stranger.
“You’re going to have to do better than vague warnings.”
The man exhaled slowly, and his eyes shifted past me.
Toward Stonewick.
And when he spoke again, his voice carried a quiet weight.
“Tell me something, Maeve.”
“What?”
“Does Keegan know yet?”
My stomach dropped.
“Know what?”
The man looked back at me.
And something about his expression made the forest feel suddenly colder.
“That he’s not the only one who remembers the night everything changed.”
Twobble blinked, and Skonk stopped breathing.
And I realized with a growing, uneasy certainty…
This man knew far more about Stonewick—and about me—than he should.
The problem was…
I still had no idea who he was.
I took a slow breath and folded my arms.
“Alright,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Let’s try this another way.”
The man didn’t move. He watched me with the same calm focus he’d had since we stepped into the clearing, like he’d been expecting every word before it left my mouth.
“I’m going to walk back to Stonewick,” I continued. “And I’m going to forget this entire strange woodland encounter happened unless you give me a very good reason not to.”
Twobble nodded emphatically beside me. “Excellent plan. I support this plan.”
Skonk lifted the broom slightly behind me. “Still locked and loaded.”
“Stonewick doesn’t turn strangers away,” I said. “You could have walked into town like anyone else. Had tea. Announced yourself. Caused a scandal like a normal person.”
Twobble pointed at him.
“Exactly! We have a very welcoming system for suspicious individuals.”
The man’s mouth curved faintly. “I’m aware.”
“Then why this?” I gestured around the trees. “The mysterious forest meeting? The dramatic voice from the shadows?”
He didn’t answer.
That quiet patience of his started to wear thin on my nerves.
“Right,” I said. “That’s it.”
His eyes narrowed on me.
I turned and motioned to the goblins. “Let’s go.”
Twobble and Skonk immediately pivoted with me, both clearly relieved that retreat had finally entered the conversation.
We’d taken exactly three steps when Twobble stopped so suddenly, Skonk walked straight into him.
The goblin’s eyes widened.
He stared back at the man in the clearing.
Then he snapped his fingers.
“Oh!” He pointed. “I know who he is.”
Skonk blinked. “You do?”
Twobble nodded vigorously and continued, “I know exactly who he is.”
My gaze dropped to the goblin, who looked absurdly pleased with himself.
“Twobble,” I said slowly. “Who is it?”
He puffed out his chest.
“That’s Keegan’s dad.”
The clearing seemed to tilt as Twobble pointed again. “His name is Rendel.”
For a moment, I forgot how breathing worked.
The color drained straight out of my face.
I turned slowly toward the man, toward Rendel.
“You were supposed to be…” My voice faltered. “Gone.”
The man—Rendel—watched me quietly.
Then he nodded once.
“That’s the easier version of the story.”
The words landed like stones.
“The Silver Wolf,” he continued calmly, “always liked to keep control over the narrative.”
My stomach twisted hard enough that I had to steady myself.
Keegan’s mother.
The Silver Wolf.
The one person in Stonewick who rarely let anything slip beyond her watchful gaze.
A tidal wave of thoughts slammed through me all at once.
Keegan believed his father was dead.
Everyone did.
I swallowed.
“What would Keegan think,” I whispered before I could stop myself, “if he knew I was out here talking to the father who abandoned him?”
Twobble slowly lowered his pointing finger.
“Right,” he said quietly. “That’s… complicated.”
Skonk leaned toward Twobble. “Is now a bad time to mention I ate the emergency pastry?”
Twobble waved him off while my eyes stayed fixed on Rendel.
I shook my head slowly.
“No.”
The word came out stronger this time.
“This doesn’t make sense.”
The man didn’t argue.
He simply watched me the way someone might watch a storm roll across the horizon—patient, knowing it would pass eventually.
“Why now?” I asked.
The question felt heavier than the forest air.
Decades.
Keegan had lived his entire adult life believing his father was gone.
Dead.
Lost.
And now he was standing here as if he’d just stepped out for a walk.
Rendel smiled faintly, but it wasn’t smug.
“You have something the Priestess wants,” he said.
A cold ripple slid down my spine.
“And she has something you need.” His eyes stayed on mine, and the forest seemed to press in closer around us.
Twobble shifted beside me, and Skonk tightened his grip on the broom.
But I didn’t move.
My eyes stayed locked with Rendel’s.
Waiting.
The wind stirred the leaves overhead.
He didn’t explain.
Didn’t elaborate.
He simply held my gaze like the answer was already there if I was brave, or foolish enough, to follow it.
And for the first time since stepping into the clearing, I had the strange feeling that the real problem wasn’t the man standing in front of me.
It was the choice waiting behind his words.
The kind of choice that changes everything once you hear it out loud.
Neither of us spoke.
The forest held its breath.
And somewhere far behind us, beyond the trees and winding road, Stonewick waited, completely unaware that Keegan’s past had just stepped back into the world.