Chapter Thirty-Seven
I drew a steady breath and let it out slowly, aware of how much hung in the balance of what I said next.
“There are vampires inside the Academy,” I told him. “Helping me prepare to meet with the orcs heading north.”
Caleb blinked once, and then he laughed.
He didn’t seem to be cruel. It was more of an incredulous bark, like someone reacting to a story that made absolutely no sense.
“Vampires,” he said, shaking his head. “In the Academy.”
“Yes,” I replied evenly.
“And orcs,” he added, eyes sharpening. “Heading north.”
“Yes.”
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw and let out a breath. “Well. That’s… ambitious.”
“That’s one word for it,” I agreed.
Caleb’s mouth curved into something wry. “You should know right now, Maeve Bellemore, that no pack I represent will be stepping foot inside an Academy full of bloodsuckers.”
A few of the other shifters behind him murmured agreement, their postures tightening just enough to remind me how fragile this calm still was.
I didn’t flinch.
“The Academy isn’t a vampire stronghold,” I said. “It’s neutral ground.”
Caleb snorted. “Neutral doesn’t exist where immortals are concerned.”
“Maybe not where you’re from,” I said calmly. “But Stonewick has been balancing factions longer than most people realize.”
He studied me, something sharp and assessing in his gaze. “And who decides that balance?”
The question cut close.
For a heartbeat, I almost answered wrong, but then I felt the Academy hum behind me, not pushing, not directing, just… present.
“The Academy does,” I said carefully. “It’s not me, the fae, or the vampires. It’s not the shifters or goblins. The Academy opens when it believes something matters enough to be addressed together.”
Caleb’s expression hardened. “That’s dangerous.”
“Yes,” I agreed without hesitation. “It is.”
That seemed to surprise him.
I went on before he could fill the silence with assumptions.
“But what’s happening right now is more dangerous. Someone is deliberately pushing factions out of their homes. Orcs don’t march unless they’re out of options. Shifter territories don’t destabilize without cause.”
Caleb’s gaze flicked briefly toward the treeline, then back to me. “You’re assuming intent.”
“I am,” I said. “Because this isn’t random.”
His jaw tightened. “You think it’s the Priestess.”
“I know it is.”
That finally wiped the humor from his face.
A stillness settled over the pack, not hostile, but attentive in a way that made my skin prickle. Caleb straightened, the easy confidence draining out of him and leaving something heavier behind.
“I was wondering how long it would take for her name to come up,” he said quietly.
Keegan stiffened beside me.
“You know about her,” I said.
Caleb exhaled through his nose. “We do.”
“How?” I asked.
He hesitated, then cleared his throat. “Malore had mentioned her from time to time, but the way he spoke of her led me to believe that she was more myth than reality.”
“And are you feeling a shift where you live?” I asked softly.
“Something is wrong in our forests.”
Every instinct in me sharpened.
“Wrong how?” I pressed.
Caleb’s gaze grew distant, as if he were seeing something layered over the present moment. “Shadows where there shouldn’t be any. We have patches of land that refuse to hold magic or listen to our pleas. We have places where the sun shines down, and the moon spills silver, yet nothing answers.”
Dead magic.
The phrase echoed in my mind, cold and ominous.
“Animals won’t cross those areas,” he continued. “Wolves feel it first, followed by the trees, and the ground itself. It’s like rot, but not natural. It’s not decaying, it’s suppression. It makes it harder for our hunts, for our…feeding.”
My chest tightened. “That sounds like Shadowick’s work.”
He nodded grimly. “It feels adjacent to it as if someone is trying to stitch Shadowick’s influence and shadows into places they don’t belong.”
“That’s exactly what she’d do,” I murmured.
Caleb’s gaze snapped back to me. “You sound very certain.”
“I’ve seen her work,” I said. “Up close.”
Silence stretched between us again, but it was different now. He wasn’t evaluating my authority anymore. He was weighing my experience against his own.
“That’s why we’re here,” he said finally. “Not to challenge you. Not to reclaim anything. But to understand who else sees what we see.”
My pulse slowed just a fraction.
“And the vampires?” he added, glancing toward the Academy doors. “They see it too?”
“They feel it,” I said. “In different ways. Old magic doesn’t discriminate about who it unsettles.”
Caleb let out a breath that sounded almost like relief, though his shoulders stayed tense. “Then maybe this isn’t as foolish as it sounded.”
I allowed myself a small smile. “I’ll take that.”
He didn’t smile back, but something in his posture eased.
“You’re walking on very rocky ground, Maeve Bellemore.”
“I know,” I said. “But if we don’t walk it together, it’s going to collapse under all of us.”
He studied me for a long moment, as his gaze intensified, “You don’t speak like someone who wants control.”
“No,” I said softly. “I speak like someone who wants to survive and wants a better place for the next generation.”
That seemed to land.
Behind him, the pack shifted, not forward, not back, but closer together, like a unit recalibrating.
Caleb nodded once. “Then here’s what you should understand.”
I held his gaze.
“We won’t step inside the Academy,” he said. “Not yet. Our old wounds run too deep for that, but we’ll listen. We’ll watch. And if the Priestess is indeed pushing at the edges of our world, then she’s made an enemy she didn’t account for.”
A chill slid down my spine.
“Because shifters,” he continued, voice low and resolute, “do not abandon their forests lightly.”
But they abandoned their own…
The words hung between us, heavy with promise.
And for the first time since stepping onto the Academy steps, I felt something shift—not into certainty, but into alignment.
This wasn’t an alliance.
Not yet.
But it was no longer a standoff either, and that, in its own way, felt like progress.
Even if the shadows he described were already spreading faster than any of us wanted to admit, uniting was our best hope.
Finally, he spoke. “If the forests aren’t safe,” he said, “and our lands are failing, we need somewhere to settle. Somewhere neutral as you put it.”
My stomach tightened, though I kept my expression steady.
“You’re asking to stay,” I said.
Caleb nodded. “In the Wilds, not the village or the Academy itself. We’ll bring our packs. We’ll keep to the edges, but we can’t keep moving blind.”
The weight of it pressed in on me all at once. Orcs marching north. Vampires convening inside sacred halls. Shifter packs seeking refuge. And students returning soon, unaware that the world they were walking back into was reshaping itself in real time.
I took a breath and reached for the hum beneath my feet, the quiet awareness of the Academy listening without judgment.
“The Academy is a safe harbor,” I said carefully. “That includes the Wilds.”
Relief flickered across more than one face, quick and guarded.
“But,” I added, holding Caleb’s gaze, “it comes with conditions.”
He inclined his head. “As it should.”
“There must be peace among everyone who roams the property,” I said. “No posturing. No territorial disputes. No settling old grudges under the guise of protection. This ground holds more than any one faction, and in a matter of days, students will be returning for classes.”
Twobble decided to appear at the time and nodded. “And no peeing on the statues and fountains. Some of us drink out of those.”
That last part earned a ripple of laughter.
“Caleb’s jaw tightened, not in disagreement, but in consideration.
“You’re asking us to share space,” he said. “With vampires.”
“And goblins,” I said. “And witches. And Fae. And people who don’t fit neatly into any category. We’re a refuge where midlife magic comes to recharge, learn, or dabble for the first time.”
“That sounds like chaos,” the female alpha said from behind Caleb. I looked into her eyes and saw a flash of something I recognized.
“It can be,” I admitted. “But it’s also balance.”
Caleb studied me again, more intently this time, as if reassessing not just my words but the conviction behind them. “And you think this will hold?”
“I think it has a better chance than everyone scattering in fear,” I said. “And better than marching toward Shadowick looking for answers that will cost more than you can afford to pay.”
That did it.
A murmur ran through the group, low and uneasy. Shadowick was a word that carried weight even among shifters, a place of bargains that never favored those who entered desperate.
“For now,” Caleb said slowly, “we can agree to your terms.”
The word for now settled into my bones, sending ripples I couldn’t yet see the edges of.
“We’ll keep to the Wilds,” he continued. “Our packs will respect your boundaries. We won’t interfere with your students.”
“And if conflict arises?” I asked.
He met my gaze evenly. “We’ll bring it to you first.”
It was the best promise I could hope for.
I nodded. “Then you’re welcome here.”
The Academy responded before I could say anything more. A subtle warmth spread outward from the threshold, not dramatic, not visible, but unmistakable. The trees along the edge of the woods rustled, leaves turning as if in greeting.
Caleb felt it too. I could tell by the way his shoulders eased just a fraction.
“We’ll move carefully,” he said. “There won’t be a sudden influx. It will take days for all the clans to arrive.”
“We look forward to it.”
As the pack began to turn away, already discussing logistics in low voices, the pressure I’d been holding back finally made itself known. It sat heavy in my chest, a simmering awareness that I was standing at the center of a growing convergence, not just of people, but of expectations.
I wasn’t na?ve enough to believe this would be easy.
Balance rarely was.
Compassion required vigilance, and hope needed tending, especially when fear was quicker to take root.
As Caleb paused once more at the edge of the path, he glanced back at me.
“You’re taking on a great deal,” he said. “For someone who didn’t ask for any of this.”
I smiled faintly. “None of us asked for what’s happening. But we still get to choose how we respond.”
He considered that, then gave a short nod. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad we knocked on Stonewick’s door.”
“So am I,” I said.
As they disappeared into the trees, the Wilds already beginning to shift to accommodate them, I let out a slow breath.
This was becoming a pressure cooker, no doubt about it.
But as I turned back toward the Academy, feeling its steady presence at my back, one thought anchored me.
They had come here.
Not to Shadowick.
And for now, that was enough to keep hope alive.