Chapter Thirty-One
Nova’s shop always felt like a cozy, mystical step back in time.
The moment we stepped inside, the noise of Stonewick softened, as if the world beyond the door knew better than to intrude.
Shelves curved inward instead of standing straight, bowing slightly beneath the weight of crystals, cards, charms, and objects that didn’t like being categorized.
The air shimmered faintly, threaded with incense and old magic and something louder that reminded me of thunderstorms just before they broke.
I paused just inside the threshold. Nova’s shop had always existed half a step sideways from reality. It was a place for seeing, for truth laid bare without apology. Normally, that comforted me, even after my first experience had been less than ideal.
Tonight, the importance of what this shop could do for my daughter and her dad couldn’t be ignored.
But the echoes of the Oath Room still clung to me. The ownerless whispers brushed the back of my mind, and the image of the Priestess in her castle refused to fade. It didn’t matter, though. What mattered was right in front of me.
This wasn’t the time to spiral.
Celeste stood near the central table, hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweater, eyes bright but serious. She looked older tonight somehow.
Keegan lingered close to her without crowding, his posture easy but attentive, the way it always was when he sensed something fragile unfolding.
Twobble perched on a stool he absolutely wasn’t supposed to be on, swinging his feet and pretending he wasn’t nervous.
Skonk stood near the back wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable, but his gaze never strayed far from the door or the windows.
Bella leaned against a display of moonstone spheres, her fox-shifter grace lending the room an undercurrent of motion even when she was still. Ardetia hovered near Nova’s worktable, fingers lightly tracing sigils etched into the wood, her expression thoughtful and solemn.
And Nova stood at the center of it all.
Her shop wrapped around her like it knew who its heart belonged to. The crystal cases glowed brighter at her approach, and tarot decks rustled softly as if eager to be chosen. Her raven-dark hair framed her face, and her green eyes looked calm and entirely present as she surveyed the room.
“Everyone’s here,” Nova said quietly.
The toad ribbited loudly from the table.
I winced. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Celeste shot him a look. “You’re not helping.”
He puffed up in protest.
Nova allowed herself the faintest hint of a smile before sobering again.
“Before we begin,” she said, “I need to be very clear about what’s happening tonight.”
The room stilled.
“This is not punishment,” Nova continued. “This is not correction. This is release. Celeste, you will undo what you cast, but you will not be revisiting the moment that created it. You will not relive the anger or the hurt. You’ll acknowledge it, and then you’ll let it go.”
Celeste nodded once. “Right.”
“And I’ll handle the memory weave,” Nova added. “That part doesn’t involve you.”
Celeste hesitated, then nodded again. “Okay.”
I stepped closer, unable to help myself. “I’m here for you,” I reminded her softly, but I think that reminder was more for myself than her.
“I know,” she said, meeting my eyes. “But I’m ready.”
Nova gestured to the floor, where a circle of chalk and light had already been laid
Crystals marked the cardinal points, each humming with a different tone. I’d not used this spell before, but I recognized the symbols for grounding, release, memory, and protection.
“Twobble,” Nova said without looking away from the circle.
“Yes, oh, terrifying oracle?” he replied.
“You’ll anchor the perimeter.”
Twobble blinked. “I will?”
“Yes.”
His chest puffed out. “Finally.”
“Don’t get cocky,” Bella muttered. “Or you’ll wind up like the toad.”
Skonk shifted closer to the door. “Skonk, you’ll watch the outside Wards.”
“Are you trying to chase me away from all the fun?”
Nova smiled. “You’ll never know.”
Ardetia inclined her head. “I’ll stabilize the spell lattice.”
“And I’ll stay with Celeste,” Bella added. “Body and breath.”
Keegan glanced at me. “And you?”
I swallowed, realizing my daughter didn’t need me in this moment. “I’ll be right here.”
Nova’s gaze flicked to me briefly, knowing and kind. She could sense the tension I was carrying, the way my magic hadn’t quite settled since the mirrors.
But she didn’t press. Nova simply nodded in my direction, as if acknowledging a truth that would be dealt with later.
And then my ex ribbited again.
“Enough,” I said firmly. “You’re about to be human again. Act like it.”
He went still.
Celeste took her place in the circle, shoulders squared, hands loose at her sides. Nova positioned the toad at the center, adjusting him gently but firmly so he couldn’t hop out of place.
“Last chance,” Nova said softly.
Celeste exhaled. “I know.”
As Nova began to speak, the shop responded. Tarot cards slid from their shelves and hovered in a slow orbit, images flashing briefly—The Tower, reversed. Judgment, softened. The Star, bright and steady. Crystals flared, light threading through the circle in quiet harmony.
I watched my daughter breathe.
In.
Out.
In.
The magic stirred with intention. It responded to Celeste’s presence like it had been waiting.
And that was when it hit me, sharp and bittersweet.
This was why she couldn’t stay right now.
Stonewick would never let her be small. The Academy would always feel her.
Magic would always answer her faster than it should.
And with the Priestess moving pieces in the dark, with orcs marching toward ancient thresholds and dragons stirring in the deep, Celeste needed distance, safety, and time to grow without every shadow reaching for her.
I hated knowing that, but it also steadied me.
Nova’s voice rose and fell, weaving memory and forgetting into a careful pattern. Ardetia’s sigils glowed, locking the spell into a shape that wouldn’t fracture. Bella murmured quietly to Celeste, grounding her, keeping her present.
The toad trembled once, then stilled.
Celeste lifted her hands slowly, palms open, and spoke the words she’d practiced.
“I release you,” she said, her voice steady. “From what I held. From what I couldn’t carry.”
The magic shifted, and she continued, “By the grace of second chances and the mercy of being seen, I ask the magic to loosen its grip. Come back to yourself. Come back whole. Come back knowing you are no longer a toad.
To say I was proud of Celeste wasn’t putting it mildly.
Warmth spread through the room, not explosive, but deep and resonant. The shop hummed, shelves vibrating softly as if approving.
Light gathered at the center of the circle, folding inward as I held my breath.
This was it.
Whatever came next, there was no undoing it.
The magic surged, but it wasn’t wild or dangerous. Celeste’s magic was deliberate, and I knew with bone-deep certainty that she would walk out of this room changed.
And that was exactly why she had to leave Stonewick while she grew and changed without the confines of an Academy with expectations.
I stared at my ex-husband as his puffy toad cheeks drooped to match his eyes.
The spell didn’t snap, crack, or explode. It didn’t tear its way through the room the way so many dramatic, magical moments like to do. Instead, it unwound slowly and deliberately.
The light in Nova’s shop softened first. The crystals rang, and the circle dimmed just enough to draw the eye inward.
The tarot cards hovered overhead, slowed their lazy orbit, each one turning face down in unison, as if respectfully averting their gaze.
Celeste’s breath stayed steady.
That alone felt miraculous.
The toad—Alex, my ex—shuddered.
The break began subtly, with a tremor that rippled through his squat little body. His skin shimmered as if something beneath it was gently knocking and asking to be let out. It was…unnerving.
The brownish-green darkened, before it lightened, and the texture smoothed in places and roughened in others. He was caught between two truths that could not coexist.
I leaned forward without realizing it, and Keegan’s hand came to rest at my back, warm and solid, his presence grounding me instantly.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, so quietly only I could hear.
I nodded, swallowing hard.
Celeste lifted her hands a fraction higher, palms open, fingers relaxed. The magic responded to her, listening. It flowed up her arms like warm water, and I couldn’t believe my eyes.
“I release you,” Celeste said again, softer this time.
The circle brightened, and the toad stretched.
“Oh,” Twobble breathed. “Here we go.”
Alex’s body elongated, limbs pulling outward with an audible pop that made Celeste flinch and gasp. The toad’s mouth widened far beyond what any amphibian should reasonably manage, and a sound came out of his lips somewhere between a croak and a cough, followed by a deeply offended grunt.
Light wrapped around him and twisted upward as his shape shifted—legs lengthening, torso expanding, hands unfurling with fingers that flexed and wiggled.
Alex collapsed forward onto the rug with a solid thump, and the circle flared once more before dimming to a quiet glow.
He lay there on his hands and knees, coughing violently, hair falling into his eyes, shoulders heaving as he sucked in breath like it was an unfamiliar concept.
“Oh my gosh,” Celeste whispered. “Oh my gosh, that’s him. It worked.”
Alex gagged, then coughed again.
“Why—” cough “—does my throat—” hack “—taste like pond?”
Twobble winced. “Buddy, you don’t want the answer to that.”
I stared at the man in front of me, who was fully human and fully Alex, but I couldn’t say if he still had warts.
A part of me, a small, traitorous part, felt disappointed.
And another part felt dizzy with excitement for what my daughter managed to do.
Alex pushed himself upright into a sitting position, rubbing his chest, his expression deeply agitated and wildly confused. He looked around the room like he’d just woken up at the wrong party.
“What? Where…” He squinted. “Why are there so many candles?”
Nova stepped forward immediately, calm and unruffled, her voice cutting through the moment like silk through water. “Easy. You’re safe. Take a breath.”
He coughed.
“I was…” He frowned. “I was at my condo. No. Wait. The coffee shop. Or—” His brow furrowed deeply. “Why do I feel like I missed… days?”
Celeste made a small, strangled sound.
Keegan’s arm slipped fully around my shoulders as my knees threatened to give out. I hadn’t realized how tightly I’d been holding myself together until that moment.
Alex’s gaze finally landed on me.
“Maeve?” he said uncertainly.
My stomach flipped.
That was it. That was the sound. The voice I hadn’t heard say my name without bitterness or entitlement in years.
I didn’t answer.
His eyes flicked past me, landing on Celeste.
“Celeste? Why are you—” He broke off, rubbing his temples. “Why does my head feel like static?”
“That,” Nova said smoothly, stepping closer, “is my cue.”
She placed a hand gently on Alex’s shoulder. He startled, jerking slightly, but didn’t pull away.
“I’m going to help you sort through that,” she continued. “There’s been some… overlap. Let’s get you comfortable.”
Alex blinked up at her. “Do I know you?”
“No,” Nova said kindly. “And you won’t.”
She guided him toward the back of the shop, toward the curtain of shimmering beads that separated the public space from her private workroom. The beads rattled softly as she drew them aside.
Celeste stared, unmoving.
“I—” She swallowed. “I really did that.”
Bella slipped an arm around her shoulders. “You did. And you did it beautifully.”
Alex paused just before disappearing behind the beads, glancing back once more at the room full of people who made absolutely no sense to him.
“Why,” he asked plaintively, “do I feel like I just had the weirdest dream of my life?”
Twobble snorted. “Because you did, pal.”
Alex frowned. “I don’t like you and your little costume.”
“That makes two of us,” Twobble shot back cheerfully.
The beads closed behind Nova and Alex, muffling his continued muttering into something indistinct.
Silence fell between all of us for a few moments until Celeste laughed.
“I turned my dad into a toad,” she said faintly. “And then I turned him back.”
I snickered at the realization that magic didn’t skip a generation. “You did.”
“I’m never topping that,” she added. “Like, ever.”
Twobble clapped his hands together. “Welcome to your magical origin story. Very few get amphibians.”
As if on cue, there was a sharp tap tap tap at the front window.
We all turned.
Stella stood outside, face pressed to the glass, one eyebrow arched dramatically as she peered in. She lifted a hand and knocked again, then pointed exaggeratedly toward the back room.
I groaned. “She heard something.”
Bella grinned. “She always does. I don’t know how that woman knows things before knowing things.”
Twobble sighed. “And she came empty-handed.”
The window rattled again as Stella mouthed something that looked suspiciously like Did I miss it?
Celeste wiped at her eyes, still laughing, still shell-shocked, and leaned into me.
For the first time all night, the tight knot in my chest loosened.
It wasn’t over, but this small, ridiculous, magical victory was enough to carry us forward.
At least for now.