Chapter Seven
The world returned in bits and pieces.
First, the ground beneath my knees felt solid again, cool and damp with the breath of the Wilds. Next, sound crept back in, tentative at first with leaves stirring, and someone exhaling too loudly.
The night wrapped around us like a blanket.
Keegan shifted beneath my hands, drawing another deep breath, then another, as if testing the limits of his lungs just to make sure the curse hadn’t been hiding somewhere small and spiteful.
When he laughed, quiet, breathless, and somewhat stunned, it sounded like a man hearing his own voice for the first time.
And in a way that was precisely what had happened since the first moment Stonewick, Keegan, and my dad had been cursed. The difference was that it kept dragging on for Keegan and Gideon.
“It’s quiet,” he said.
“Yes,” I replied softly. “It really is.”
He pushed himself upright slowly, wincing more from exhaustion than pain, and squeezed my hand before letting go. The contact lingered anyway, warmth settling where his fingers had been, grounding me as I took in the clearing.
Stella reached us first, moving with uncharacteristic speed. Her shawl was askew, silver hair loose around her shoulders, eyes sharp and searching as she crouched in front of me.
“Alright,” she said briskly, placing cool fingers beneath my chin and tilting my face side to side. “You’re breathing, your eyes are the correct color, and nothing is actively on fire. Promising start.”
My mom came up behind her. “I’m proud of you.”
I smiled shakily. “It wasn’t me. It was everyone else’s choices. I just chanted some stuff.”
“Not the case, dear.” My mom smiled. “But that’s why you’re headmistress.”
Twobble skidded in behind her, tripping over a root that definitely hadn’t been there five minutes ago.
“I brought snacks,” he announced proudly, holding up a slightly squashed bag. “In case anyone needed emotional support carbs.”
Stella sighed. “Of course you did.”
Twobble peered at me, then at Keegan, then back at me. “So. Did we win?”
“We stopped the Hunger Path,” I said.
The words felt strange and fragile in my mouth.
Twobble blinked, beaming. “Oh, that’s better than winning.”
Stella straightened, gaze sweeping the clearing, assessing damage with the practiced eye of someone who’d seen far worse and survived it all.
“You did well,” she said to me, quieter now. “All of you did.”
Her hand rested briefly on my shoulder, the weight of it comforting in a way only Stella could manage without sentimentality.
Across the clearing, Bella and Ardetia approached Gideon.
He lay sprawled near the edge of the mushrooms, long, dark coat twisted beneath him, hair fallen across his face in a way that made him look younger, less dangerous.
Bella nudged his boot lightly with her toe.
“Well,” she said, hands on her hips. “That’s one way to end a dramatic evening.”
Ardetia knelt beside him, her movements careful, reverent. She placed two fingers against his throat, then nodded.
“He lives.”
I swore I heard Twobble say something like That’s too bad, under his breath, but I chose to believe that wasn’t the case.
Gideon groaned, rolling slightly. Bella crouched immediately, her expression softening despite herself.
“Welcome back,” she said lightly. “You missed the part where the sky tried to eat us.”
Ardetia murmured something under her breath, a quiet Fae word that shimmered faintly as it settled into Gideon’s aura, coaxing consciousness rather than forcing it.
He stirred again, eyes fluttering open, unfocused, then sharpening as he took in the stars overhead. Confusion crossed his face, followed by something like disbelief.
“It’s… quiet,” he said hoarsely. “In my head.”
Bella exchanged a glance with Ardetia. “That seems to be the theme tonight.”
I glanced at Keegan, realizing he hadn’t told me even half of what that curse had done to him.
My dad smiled “You gave us a scare.”
Gideon’s gaze flicked to him briefly as my mom went over to my dad and gave him a light kiss on his cheek.
Yup. Back together.
Speaking of which.
My parents walked over to me, and my dad pulled me into a hug so fierce it knocked the breath from my lungs.
“You did it,” he said, voice thick. “You did it.”
I laughed shakily into his shoulder, clinging to him like the world might tilt again if I let go.
“We all did.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes shining with pride and something deeper, something that felt like release.
“Your grandmother will be so proud.” He smiled and shook his head. “Grandma Elira knew you could do it.”
“Thank you,” I said, and for the first time, it didn’t ache.
My mom wrapped her arms around both of us, and for the first time, I felt her magic settle over me like a blessing. She cupped my face in her hands and kissed my cheek.
“I always knew,” she said softly. “I think that’s why I tried so hard to hide you…protect you, but you can’t outrun your destiny. You were meant for this.”
The three of us stood there for a long moment, breathing in the quiet, the stars twinkling overhead like they were in on the secret.
And yet, beneath the relief, beneath the warmth, something in me remained unsettled.
I stepped back, scanning the edges of the clearing, the tree line dark and still. The Wilds slept now, their magic folded in on itself, resting. But beyond them, beyond Stonewick, beyond even Shadowick—
She was still out there.
The Priestess.
My grandmother.
Watching. Waiting. Learning.
The thought curled in my chest, with a quiet vigilance. Some endings were not clean, and some victories carried echoes like this one.
Stella followed my gaze, her expression sharpening. “You feel it too.”
“Yes,” I said quietly.
“She won’t interfere here,” Stella said, confidence threaded through her tone. “Not now. Not after this.”
“I know,” I replied. “But she hasn’t stopped wanting.”
Twobble tilted his head. “That seems… unhealthy.”
“It always is,” Stella agreed.
The Academy loomed at the edge of the Wilds, its lights glowing softly through the trees. It felt closer now, more present, as if it were beckoning rather than watching from afar.
Students would be arriving soon. Magic would be taught. Hope would be given.
And I would need to pretend that my grandmother wasn’t the source of all evil.
Nova appeared beside us, her staff dim, her posture tired but steady.
“We should return,” she said. “The Wilds will close themselves soon. And the Academy will want you all inside its walls. It likes to learn through warm bodies.”
“Well, that certainly sounds creepy enough to me,” Twobble said, shivering, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
Keegan came to my side again, his hand brushing mine, his presence reassuring in its new, unburdened calm. “Ready?”
I looked once more at the clearing, at the mushrooms fading into dormancy, at Gideon being helped to his feet by Bella and Ardetia, at my parents standing close behind me.
“Yes,” I said.
The stars glittered above us, the night peaceful in a way it hadn’t been in a very long time. As we turned toward the path leading back to the Academy, I felt the school’s pull, gentle, patient, and insistent.
Whatever came next, Stonewick wasn’t done with us.
And neither was I.
The question hovered long after the Wilds released us.
The thought followed us back toward the Academy, winding between footsteps and half-spoken reassurances, settling into the quiet spaces no one else seemed ready to fill.
Gideon walked a little apart from the rest of us, supported loosely by Bella and Ardetia, his movements careful, like someone learning the shape of his body again. He didn’t look dangerous now. That, somehow, made everything worse.
I watched him without meaning to.
The way his shoulders no longer carried that sharp, coiled readiness. The way his gaze kept drifting upward, as if the sky had taken something with it and he wasn’t sure how to stand without the weight. He looked… unmoored.
And the Academy noticed.
Its doors glowed faintly as we approached, lantern-light spilling across the stone path.
The charms murmured softly in curiosity.
They brushed against us one by one, reading, adjusting, acknowledging the shift that had taken place in the Wilds.
But when they brushed Gideon, the hum changed.
It didn’t reject him, but it wasn’t welcoming. It was…assessing.
I slowed, and Keegan noticed immediately. He always did.
“What is it?” he asked quietly.
I hesitated, my thoughts knotting together.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just… I don’t know what we do with him now.”
Ahead of us, my dad paused, clearly hearing enough to catch the weight of the question. Stella stopped outright, turning slowly, her expression churning with interest that quickly hardened into something more dangerous.
“Oh no,” she said. “We are not doing anything foolish while I’m still upright.”
Twobble perked up. “Is this the part where someone suggests a bad idea, and we all agree in unison like dump him off in Shadowick with a giant red bow?”
“I suspect Maeve is about to surprise us.” Stella’s right brow lifted.
Every eye turned to me.
Gideon stopped too, finally looking directly at me, something wary flickering behind his calm. He didn’t speak. He didn’t plead. He simply waited, which somehow felt like pressure.
“I think,” I began slowly, choosing each word with care, “that he should stay in the Academy tonight.”
The silence that followed wasn’t gentle.
“No,” Stella said flatly.
“Absolutely not,” my dad added.
Twobble gasped. “The traitor? The maniac? The former shadow enthusiast?”
Keegan stiffened beside me, the air around him tightening just a fraction.
“Maeve,” he said carefully, “you don’t owe him anything.”
“I know,” I replied. “But the priestess will not just hide him away in her castle next time she gets hold of him.”
Bella crossed her arms. “He tried to undo half of this town.”
“I know.” The thought tightened in my chest.
Ardetia tilted her head, her expression thoughtful rather than angry. “The Academy is not a neutral space.”
“I know,” I said again, firmer this time.
The uproar came all at once after that, voices overlapping, concern and anger tangling together in a way that felt almost protective. Stella paced. Twobble gestured wildly. My dad muttered something about security. Even Nova’s brow furrowed, her gaze sharp with calculation.
I let it crest and lifted my hand.
“The Academy let him in already,” I said.
That statement cut through the noise, and everyone froze because it was the truth.
“It weighed him,” I continued, my voice steady now, grounded by something I didn’t fully understand but trusted all the same. “It assessed him. It didn’t reject him. It didn’t push him out. It allowed him to stand on its grounds.”
“That doesn’t mean it should host him overnight,” Stella said wryly.
“No,” I agreed. “But it does mean the Academy sees something we might not be ready to.”
Keegan’s jaw tightened. “Or it’s waiting.”
“Yes,” I said softly. “Exactly.”
Gideon finally spoke.
“If this is a debate,” he said, voice hoarse but controlled, “I can leave.”
Something about the way he said it, without challenge or manipulation, made my chest tighten.
“And go where?” I asked.
He hesitated. Just a fraction. “Anywhere that doesn’t make this harder for all of you.”
That answer didn’t satisfy anyone, especially me. He’d spent too many years trying to destroy everything the Academy and Stonewick had to offer.
I also didn’t say what I was thinking. I didn’t say that there had always been something inside me that responded to Gideon in a way that frightened me.
A recognition. A pull that had nothing to do with affection or trust and everything to do with shared fault lines.
I didn’t say that sometimes, when I looked at him, it felt like staring at a mirror that showed a version of myself I might have become if I’d made different choices.
That wasn’t why I was doing this.
This was about something else.
“She already captured him once,” I said quietly.
The words settled like frost.
“The Priestess,” I continued, “took him when he was strongest. When he was aligned with her goals. When he had power to trade.”
I looked around at them, at the exhaustion etched into every familiar face. “Tonight, he’s stripped of the Hunger Path. He helped to destroy the Hunger Path. He’s disoriented. Vulnerable. And she knows it.”
Nova’s eyes darkened with understanding.
“If he leaves,” I went on, “he’s exposed. The Academy is charmed against her in ways the rest of Stonewick isn’t. If she wants him again, and I don’t believe for a second that she doesn’t, then this is the safest place for him to be.”
Stella stopped pacing.
Twobble swallowed.
“I don’t like it,” the little goblin said.
“I don’t either,” I replied honestly. “But liking it isn’t the point.”
Keegan looked at me, and I saw the conflict there. The instinct to protect. The memory of everything Gideon had done. And beneath it all, the trust he’d placed in me again and again.
“You’re sure?” he asked quietly.
No. I wasn’t.
But I nodded anyway. “For tonight.”
Gideon watched us all with an intensity that made me uneasy, something raw and searching in his gaze.
“You don’t owe me sanctuary,” he said.
“I’m not offering it as forgiveness,” I replied. “I’m offering it as a strategy.”
That, at least, everyone could understand this wasn’t merely out of the goodness of my heart.
Nova exhaled slowly. “One night,” she said. “Under watch.”
“Constant watch,” Stella added.
“Extreme watch,” Twobble chimed in.
“Fine,” Gideon said. “I’ve had worse accommodations.”
The Academy doors brightened then, as if acknowledging the decision, their light warm but restrained.
As we stepped forward together, I felt that unsettled feeling coil again beneath my ribs.
This wasn’t over.
Not with the Priestess still out there.
Not with Gideon standing at the threshold of something he hadn’t yet figured out.
And not with the Academy watching us all, patient as ever, as it always was when history was about to repeat itself, just differently enough to matter.