Chapter Thirty-Eight
My dad came down the corridor in human form, his footsteps unhurried, my mom walking beside him with her hand tucked into the crook of his arm like it had always belonged there.
The sight of them together still caught me off guard in the strangest way, not because it felt wrong, but because it felt inevitable, like something that had been paused and quietly set back into motion without ceremony.
They rounded the final bend toward the entry, sunlight spilling in from the open doors, and then my dad stopped so abruptly my mom nearly walked into him.
He’d seen Caleb.
I felt it before I saw it, a shift in the air that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with blood and memory and old choices that never really stopped echoing.
My dad straightened slowly, not stiffening, not bristling, but rising into himself in a way I recognized instinctively, the way he always did when something mattered, and he refused to meet it with anything less than his full attention.
Caleb turned at the same moment.
For a heartbeat, they simply looked at one another.
No growls. No posturing. No sharp intake of breath from either side. Just recognition.
And then something happened that made my chest tighten so suddenly, I had to fight the urge to step forward.
Caleb nodded.
He wasn’t curt or dismissive. It wasn’t the nod of a man conceding ground or acknowledging obligation. It was reverent, almost as if he were greeting someone he hadn’t expected to see standing there, but who made perfect sense once he did.
My dad inclined his head in return, just as measured, just as calm.
I swallowed hard.
Keegan’s hand found the small of my back without me asking, and I leaned into the contact more than I meant to, grateful for it, grateful for him.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” my dad said at last, his voice even, his gaze still on Caleb.
Caleb’s mouth curved into something that might’ve been a smile, if you didn’t look too closely.
“I didn’t know I would be,” he replied. “But it seems appropriate.”
My dad studied him for a long moment and nodded once. “It does.”
The simplicity of the exchange set my nerves on edge.
My mom glanced between them, her grip on my dad’s arm tightening just slightly, though her expression remained composed. She’d always been good at that, at standing steady even when the ground beneath her wasn’t quite what it appeared.
“You mentioned disturbances in the forests,” my dad said, getting straight to it. “Dead magic. Shadows where there shouldn’t be any. I heard some of the talk as we made our way here.”
Caleb’s expression sharpened. “You’re familiar with it.”
“I’m familiar with the feeling,” my dad replied. “It’s the same one I felt years ago, when I realized the path laid out for me wasn’t the one I could walk.”
Caleb didn’t look away. “Malore didn’t forgive you for that.”
A ripple of tension passed through me, quick and sharp.
“No,” my dad said simply. “He didn’t, but he didn’t accept me either, so I didn’t have a choice.”
The word hung between them, heavy but not explosive.
“I’m concerned,” Caleb continued carefully, “that what’s happening now may invite old resentments to surface. Not everyone has been as… restrained as I have.”
I caught the subtle emphasis, the unspoken implication beneath it, and my chest tightened again. He was worried. Not about us. About consequences.
About retribution.
“For what Malore did,” Caleb added, his gaze flicking briefly to me before returning to my dad. “And for what was lost because of it.”
I felt the words like a blow I’d been bracing for without realizing it.
My dad’s expression didn’t change. If anything, it softened, just a fraction.
“There will be no such foolishness,” he said, his voice calm but carrying unmistakable authority. “Not from me or from anyone who claims to act in my name.”
Caleb’s shoulders eased, almost imperceptibly.
“We have more important matters at hand,” my dad went on. “Whatever Malore’s failures were, they belong to the past. I won’t let them dictate the future. But it appears that the Priestess wants to repeat them.”
Something shifted then, subtle but undeniable. The air felt less taut, less poised on the edge of something sharp.
“You’re not seeking dominance,” Caleb said slowly. “Even now.”
My dad shook his head. “I never was.”
I saw it then, clear as day. Not just recognition, but respect. Caleb wasn’t seeing the son Malore had rejected. He was seeing the leader my dad had chosen not to become in the way the clan demanded, and understanding, perhaps for the first time, that restraint and refusal weren’t weakness at all.
It was leadership.
“The forests won’t heal if we repeat old mistakes,” my dad continued. “We need cooperation, not hierarchy.”
Caleb nodded again, more firmly this time. “That’s what I hoped you’d say.”
I exhaled slowly, the breath shaking a little as it left me.
Keegan’s thumb brushed reassuringly against my back.
“You okay?” he murmured.
“I think so,” I whispered. “I just didn’t expect this.”
“Neither did I,” he replied softly. “But I’m not surprised.”
My dad turned then, finally looking at me, his expression warm and steady in a way that made my throat tighten.
“You’ve done well,” he said. “Bringing people together like this isn’t easy.”
“I’m not sure it’s done yet,” I admitted. “And it was the Academy, not me.”
He smiled faintly.
Caleb glanced between us, something thoughtful passing over his features.
“You carry both sides of this,” he said to me. “Witch and shifter. Stonewick and the Wilds.”
“I didn’t really plan on it,” I said wryly.
“Few leaders do,” he replied.
Leader.
The word landed differently this time.
As the conversation shifted toward logistics and boundaries and the careful work of preventing escalation, I stood there listening, watching my dad speak with calm authority, watching Caleb respond not with challenge but with consideration.
And I realized something that sent a quiet shiver through me.
This wasn’t about Malore anymore.
It was about what came after him.
And standing there, between the man my father was and the man Caleb had become, I knew the next chapter of the clan’s story was already being written—whether any of us were ready for it or not.
My dad peeled away from us with a quiet confidence that made my chest loosen just a little, already slipping into the role he’d spent a lifetime avoiding and yet somehow mastered the moment it mattered.
He moved toward Caleb and the other alphas, his voice calm, measured, carrying easily as he began discussing boundaries, old paths through the Wilds, places where the land could support packs without strain.
I watched him for a moment, this version of him, unburdened, certain, unmistakably right, and then forced myself to turn away before the ache behind my ribs had a chance to bloom into something distracting.
There was still too much to do.
The Academy ushered me back inside without ceremony, hallways unfolding in that subtle, intentional way that always made me feel as if I were being guided rather than directed.
The air shifted as I approached the auditorium, warmer, brighter, alive with a low thrumming awareness that set my magic humming in response. When I stepped through the doors, I found Lady Limora, Stella, and Nova already gathered around a massive table that definitely hadn’t been there earlier.
It wasn’t wood or stone, not exactly. It looked like a slice of night sky polished flat, its surface dark and glossy, threaded through with veins of silver and gold light that pulsed slowly, like a heartbeat. Above it hovered a three-dimensional map, shimmering into existence as I drew closer.
“Oh,” I breathed. “That’s… new.”
Nova glanced up, her eyes bright. “The Academy decided we needed a clearer picture.”
The map wasn’t of Stonewick alone. It stretched outward, forests and valleys unfolding in layers, the Wilds rendered in deep greens and blues, Shadowick lurking like a bruise at the edge of vision. And moving across it were points of light. Hundreds of them. Maybe more.
My stomach dropped.
“Those are the orcs,” Nova said quietly, answering the question I hadn’t yet voiced.
I leaned in closer, my gaze darting across the map as I tried to count.
“There’s… a lot,” I said, forcing a lightness I didn’t feel. “What are we thinking, a few hundred?”
Stella let out a sharp, humorless laugh and set her teacup down with more force than strictly necessary.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she said. “Try thousands.”
I stared at the map, my breath catching as the reality of it sank in. The points weren’t clustered tightly together, not an army in formation, but spread across multiple paths, converging slowly like tributaries feeding a river.
“Thousands,” I repeated faintly.
Twobble hopped up onto the edge of the table, peering down at the glowing dots with exaggerated squinting.
“Well,” he said brightly, “on the plus side, that explains why the ground’s been grumpy.”
Skonk immediately whapped him on the shoulder. “This isn’t the time.”
Twobble rubbed his arm and scowled. “I’m coping as best as I can. You do realize it would only take one foot, one step, to squash a goblin like you or me, and don’t get me started on the boars.”
Ah, yes. The boars.
Despite myself, a shaky laugh escaped me, and I pressed my palms to the edge of the table, grounding myself in the cool, solid presence of the magic beneath it.
“This isn’t just a group seeking refuge,” I said slowly. “This is displacement on a massive scale.”
“Yes,” Nova agreed. “And it’s organized.”
Lady Limora straightened, folding her hands in front of her. “Which means it’s being influenced.”
My thoughts leapt immediately to my grandmother, to the Priestess and her careful manipulations, her talent for nudging the world until it fell exactly where she wanted it to.
The idea of her welcoming thousands of orcs into Shadowick, offering them purpose or protection or power, made my blood run cold.
“I can’t let that happen,” I said quietly.
Stella studied me over the rim of her teacup.
“No one’s asking you to,” she said. “But we do need to be realistic.”
“I know,” I replied. “Stonewick is strong. The Academy is strong. But thousands of orcs? That’s not subtle magic or ancient wards. That’s brute force.”
“And brute force doesn’t negotiate easily,” Nova added.
I straightened, squaring my shoulders. “Which means we don’t give them to Shadowick. And we don’t wait for them to arrive on our doorstep either.”
Twobble tilted his head. “You’re thinking of meeting them.”
“I’m thinking of intercepting them sooner than I realized,” I said. “On neutral ground.”
Skonk’s brow furrowed. “That’s risky.”
“Everything about this is risky,” I replied. “But if they’re being pushed, manipulated, then they deserve to hear another option before desperation drives them into her arms.”
Lady Limora’s lips curved into a slow, approving smile.
“Compassion before conquest,” she murmured. “I like it. Something new for me to try.”
Stella chuckled.
I traced one finger along the edge of the map, following the glowing paths northward toward the Luminary.
“If we wait until students arrive,” I said, “our options narrow. The Academy will be full of midlife magic, untested, vulnerable. I won’t put them in the middle of this.”
Nova nodded. “That means the window is even shorter.”
“Days,” I agreed. “Not weeks.”
The room fell quiet, the weight of that timeline settling over us like a held breath.
Twobble broke it first.
“Well,” he said, hopping down from the table, “if you’re marching off to reason with thousands of displaced orcs before the ladies get back, I suppose I should pack snacks.”
Skonk shot him a look. “You’re not coming.”
“I absolutely am,” Twobble replied. “Someone needs to be the voice of reason.”
“That’s not you,” Skonk said flatly.
Their bickering provided a brief, much-needed distraction, and I let myself smile before sobering again. I looked at the map, at the relentless, steady movement of light.
This wasn’t just about Stonewick anymore. It wasn’t even just about the Priestess.
It was about momentum.
If we didn’t step in now, the world would keep sliding in the direction fear and manipulation pushed it. Thousands of orcs didn’t wake up one morning and decide to march north without cause. Someone was lighting a fire at their backs, and I knew exactly who had a history of doing that.
“I know what I have to do,” I said softly.
Nova met my gaze, her expression serious but supportive. “Then we’ll help you plan.”
Stella lifted her teacup in a small salute. “And we’ll make sure the Academy holds steady while you’re gone.”
Lady Limora inclined her head. “The vampires will be ready if needed.”
I inhaled deeply, feeling the pressure settle more firmly in my bones, not crushing, but insistent. This was it. The next move. One that couldn’t be undone.
I glanced once more at the glowing map, at the thousands of lights inching forward.
“I just hope,” I said quietly, “that I can reach them before she does.”
Because if I couldn’t, Stonewick wouldn’t just be facing unrest.
It would be standing in the path of something vast, desperate, and very hard to stop.