Chapter Twenty-Nine
I was halfway through convincing myself that sitting down for five uninterrupted minutes might actually be possible when the Academy doors banged open with far less subtlety than usual.
Twobble burst in first, hat crooked, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with the particular intensity that meant he’d come straight from the UnderLoom without stopping to breathe or snack.
Celeste glanced at me, looking like a giggle was waiting on the edge of her expression.
Skonk followed more slowly, his heavy steps measured, his expression unreadable in that way that always made my stomach tighten before he spoke.
“Maeve,” Twobble said, already crossing the room. “We’ve got more news.”
I closed my eyes for half a second. “Of course you do.”
Skonk inclined his head. “You’re going to want to hear this.”
I set my mug aside carefully and stood, motioning them closer. “All right. Tell me.”
Twobble glanced around the room first, lowering his voice instinctively even though the walls here were thick and attentive.
“We’ve been tracking the orc movement more precisely. Mapping the pressure shifts. Comparing the older paths with the newer ones.”
“And?” I asked.
“And they’re not coming toward Stonewick.”
The words landed with a soft thud.
I blinked. “They’re… not?”
Skonk shook his head. “They’re not even skirting the outer reaches. They adjusted course hours ago.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I said automatically. “Stonewick sits right at—”
“—a convergence point,” Twobble finished. “Yes. Which is why we assumed.”
“Then where are they going?” I asked.
Twobble hesitated, then straightened. “North.”
My pulse kicked. “North toward Shadowick?”
Skonk answered this time. “No, not north-east. North.”
I frowned. “What’s up there that a bunch of orcs would want?”
Twobble swallowed. “The Northern Luminary.”
The room felt suddenly smaller.
“The Glacial Hollows,” Skonk added as if I didn’t know what was just beyond the Luminary.
I stared at him. “That’s… that’s not—”
“Expected?” Skonk said. “It is now.”
My thoughts raced. Why would they be going to a place that was considered neutral ground? Did they want to destroy it?
“Why would they go there?” Celeste asked.
Twobble shook his head.
“They’re not just marching blind. They’ve got reconnaissance, or something’s guiding them.”
“Who?” I demanded.
Before either of them could answer, the air shifted.
Nova stepped into the room as if she’d been standing just outside the conversation, her timing so precise it sent a shiver down my spine. Her eyes flicked from Twobble to Skonk and then to me, already piecing things together.
“Say that again,” she said quietly.
Twobble squared his shoulders. “The orcs aren’t moving toward Stonewick. Or Shadowick. They’re headed for the Northern Luminary.”
Nova froze. It wasn’t dramatic, but something in her posture went very still. And in life, there wasn’t much that made her pause.
“The Luminary,” she repeated.
“Yes,” Skonk said. “And they’re moving with intent.”
Nova inhaled slowly. Her gaze drifted unfocused for a moment, green eyes clouding as she looked inward, outward, sideways through time the way only she could.
“The orcs are headed to the Hollows,” she said at last.
I stared at her. “Are we absolutely sure?”
She nodded faintly.
“They’re not after territory then. I’d assume everyone knows it’s not up for grabs.”
“No,” Nova said. “They’re after access.”
Twobble’s ears flattened, and he folded his arms. “That’s… worse.”
My heart pounded as I thought about my grandmother and Celeste.
“Yes,” Nova agreed. “Much worse.”
I sighed. “What does this mean?”
Nova didn’t answer right away. Instead, she paced slowly across the room, and that wasn’t abnormal either, but a different energy moved through her.
“The Luminary was designed to amplify perception,” she said finally. “To allow ancient watchers to see across realms without stepping fully into them. We all know it’s meant to be a neutral space.”
“And the Hollows,” I said quietly, “don’t like being seen or brought into things.”
“No,” she said. “They never have.”
It was a miracle it held Gideon accountable, but he’d made a vow within the walls.
Skonk shifted his weight. “If the orcs breach that threshold—”
“They won’t breach it,” Nova interrupted gently. “They can’t and certainly not alone.”
“Then what are they doing?” I pressed.
She stopped pacing and looked at me fully now. “They’re forcing a reaction of some sort.”
“From who?” I whispered more to myself than anyone.
“They want something to answer them,” Nova continued. “Something bound to the Hollows, possibly, or they’re trying to get attention about something they feel no one will listen to.”
Twobble grimaced. “So, they’re knocking very loudly on a door that doesn’t open.”
“Yes,” Nova said. “And hoping whoever’s inside gets angry enough to respond.”
A chill crawled up my spine, and I settled closer to Celeste. “Why would the Priestess want that?”
Nova’s gaze flicked to me sharply. “You’re assuming she does.”
I frowned. “You don’t think this is her?”
“I think,” Nova said slowly, “that if this were her plan, it would be quieter.”
I didn’t expect that answer.
“She usually prefers leverage,” Nova continued. “And this would be chaos. This kind of move risks awakening forces she doesn’t control.”
Twobble glanced at Skonk. “So, someone else is playing a very dangerous game.”
“Or,” I said carefully, “someone thinks they can control what comes out. The Priestess could be doing the opposite of things we expect to throw us off.”
“True.” Nova’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s the problem. Guessing the motives of others is difficult.”
Silence stretched between us, heavy with implication.
“Well, what does this mean for us?”
“I don’t know.” Nova shook her head, surprising me.
The words hung there, and even the goblins looked confused by her uncertainty.
Nova was the queen of vagueness, but this was different.
Twobble shifted uncomfortably. “That’s… not reassuring.”
“No,” Nova agreed. “But it’s honest.”
Skonk crossed his arms. “What do we do?”
Nova’s gaze drifted toward the window, toward the north, toward a place none of us wanted to think too closely about. “We watch,” she said. “We prepare. And we stop assuming every threat is moving the way we expect it to.”
I felt the weight of it settle deep in my bones.
The orcs weren’t coming for Stonewick, which meant whatever was coming next might be far worse.
Celeste cleared her throat. “I think I’m ready to turn Dad back.”
The words landed like a dropped plate.
I blinked once. Then again. “You’re… ready?”
Because the last time we’d spoken about this, she’d wanted time, space, and distance. She’d been thoughtful and cautious and understandably unsure. Her sudden certainty startled me far more than hesitation ever could, but maybe after hearing about the orcs, she wanted out.
And that, I could totally understand.
Celeste calmly nodded.
“Hey,” I said gently. “Is everything okay?”
She let out a small breath. “Yeah. I think so. I mean… as okay as things can be right now. I doubt I’ll even be able to focus on school when I know you’re back here trying to fight…orcs. I mean, I’ve read enough fantasy books to know those are big creatures.”
I chuckled and nodded. “And I apparently should have read more.”
Nova remained still, watching Celeste closely.
My daughter shifted her weight, leaned against me, and crossed her arms loosely.
“It’s just—there’s so much happening. Magic is everywhere.
There’s so much I don’t understand yet. Orcs moving around and a grandmother who’s apparently very angry and very powerful.
” She made a face. “Which I’m still processing. ”
“That’s understandable,” I murmured.
“And Dad being a toad,” she continued, glancing down again. He ribbited softly, as if reminding us he was still present. “That’s… funny. A little. But it’s also one more unstable thing.”
My heart squeezed. “You think turning him back will stabilize things.”
“Yes,” she said simply. “I think it’s the safest thing for all of us, and I think returning to school soon is needed, or I might do something accidental.”
“Ah, but there’s a certain mystique to new magic,” Nova smiled and glanced at me. “Your mother is still in the infancy of it all, and she manages to throw us for a loop daily.”
“I can’t deny that,” I said, chuckling and squeezing my daughter closely.
I was stunned at the maturity in Celeste’s voice, and it caught me off guard. Not because she wasn’t capable of it, but because I still sometimes forgot she was old enough to see the bigger picture without being pushed into it.
“I don’t want Dad tied to this place,” she added. “Not with everything that’s going on. If there’s a chance the Priestess, or anyone else, can sense magic like that, then… I want him away from here and back to his normal life.”
My ex croaked louder, and I rolled my eyes. He was such a prima donna.
Celeste sighed. “Sorry. But you don’t belong here.”
“When we do this,” Nova told Celeste, “we do it carefully. Reversing the spell will be your work, but the memory erasure will be mine.”
Celeste nodded. “That’s what I wanted to ask about. I’m worried something will go wrong.”
I straightened. “Celeste—”
She held up a hand gently. “Mom, I know. I know it’s not nothing. I just need to understand what happens after.”
Nova inclined her head. “Ask.”
Celeste took a breath.
“When you erase his memories,” she said, then hesitated. “Does… any of it stay?”
Nova didn’t answer right away.
“There’s risk,” she said.
Celeste waited.
“It doesn’t cut clean,” Nova added. “It never does.”
“He’ll feel it?”
Nova nodded once. “But he won’t know what it is. It’s like when we walk into a room to grab something and forget why we’re there.”
“And emotionally?” Celeste prompted.
Nova exhaled. “That part doesn’t listen to spells.”
Nova considered that. “He may feel unsettled for a while. If we’re lucky, he might even be kinder. But memory spells don’t rewrite character. They only remove access to what has been for a finite amount of time. He will return to his old ways.”
Celeste absorbed that quietly.
I found my voice again. “And there’s no risk to Celeste, her magic, or most importantly, her well-being?”
Nova turned to me. “There’s always risk when someone touches power intentionally for the first time. But this is a release, not a binding. It’s safer than leaving the spell to calcify.”
I exhaled slowly. “And doing it away from the Academy?”
“Is essential,” Nova said. “The Academy amplifies magic. Tonight, we don’t want amplification. We want containment.”
Celeste looked relieved. “So… your shop?”
Nova nodded. “My walls are designed for precision. And privacy. Lots of spells over the years to make sure I’m the only one who lets things in and out of there.”
“If I didn’t know better, that sounded super creepy.” Twobble scowled.
I looked at my daughter again and felt the strange mix of pride and grief that seemed to follow her and me everywhere lately.
“You’re sure you’re ready to go?” I asked softly. “I don’t want you doing this because you think you should.”
Celeste’s eyes met mine, and she smiled. “I’m sure. I don’t want this hanging over me when I go back to school. I don’t want to worry about losing control again because I didn’t finish what I started.”
I swallowed. “Okay then. We will de-toad my ex, the cheater formerly known as Alex.”
Celeste’s shoulders relaxed a fraction.
“Thank you for trusting us, sweetie,” I said, brushing her hair off her cheek. “We’ll get through this.”
And I realized I was telling myself that probably more than anyone.
“No, thank you.”
“For what?” I asked, confused.
“For letting me decide.”
Her dad ribbited again, quieter this time, almost uncertain…
And I would be lying if I didn’t mention that it made me feel a little good inside. For once, he didn’t have the upper hand, and I fully recognize that I was still growing as a person.
Nova glanced at Alex and back at us. “We will do it later this evening when the Wards have settled down, and the tourists have wandered back to the towns and cities they came from.”
Celeste nodded. “That works.”
“And,” Nova added gently, “once this is done, he’ll leave Stonewick. He can’t linger.”
Celeste didn’t hesitate. “Good.”
“All right,” I said, drawing in a breath. “We’ll do it tonight. At Nova’s shop.”
The decision settled into the room, solid and final, but that didn’t ease the worry in this mom’s chest.
But as much as part of me wanted to delay, I knew Celeste was right. The sooner, the better when it came to turning the toad back into the cheating scoundrel he was.
With so much magic moving in the world, so many forces shifting beyond our understanding, the safest thing to do was finish this.