Chapter 18
Maeve loved the new spell room. Not because it had technically been created by an explosion. Although that was a point in its favour. She loved it because it felt alive.
The cavern sat deeper within Merlin’s Gate, formed after the surge of magic that had swept through the Hollow during the chaos surrounding the babies’ arrival. The walls glittered faintly with trapped magic, veins of blue-green light pulsing softly beneath the stone like a heartbeat.
And at the centre, a small, circular pool connected directly to Merlin’s Gate itself. The water glowed faintly, shifting colours lazily as magic moved beneath the surface.
“It’s perfect,” Maeve sighed happily, curled into one of the oversized chairs they’d dragged into the cavern. Across from her, Arietta snorted.
“You said that about the room with the haunted ceiling.”
“That room had potential.”
“It had screaming.”
“Atmosphere,” Maeve corrected.
Isabeau, sprawled upside down in her own chair with a cup of tea dangling dangerously from one hand, waved vaguely toward the pool.
“This one’s better,” she declared. “Less screaming.”
“Currently,” Arietta muttered. Maeve ignored the negativity.
The room was perfect, it was comfortable and perfectly magical, the ideal place for questionable spellwork and emotional support snacks. Plus, the chairs had been a victory.
The boys had carried them down after what had become an embarrassingly competitive argument involving measurements, magical leverage, and Dave insisting at one point that “pivoting was a legitimate strategy”.
In exchange they had claimed one of the spare guest rooms upstairs as a “man cave.”
The girls had agreed immediately, mostly because watching the males attempt to bond was deeply entertaining.
Maeve still hadn’t recovered from the sight of Blackbeard the ghost pirate, Justin the warlock, and Brutas all trying to figure out Mario Kart together.
The amount of shouting had been genuinely impressive.
“The ghost cheats,” Isabeau said suddenly.
Maeve blinked. “What?”
“In Mario Kart. Blackbeard absolutely cheats.”
“He’s dead,” Arietta pointed out.
“Exactly. Unfair advantage.”
Maeve considered this seriously.
“Fair point that.”
Silence settled comfortably after that, broken only by the soft bubbling of the magical pool nearby. Maeve stretched slightly in her chair, expression softening as her thoughts drifted back to the current drama of Krakens Hollow.
“To be fair,” she said eventually, “I like Edith.”
Arietta nodded immediately.
“Same.”
Isabeau hummed in agreement.
“She’s got bite,” she added.
Maeve grinned slightly. “She bit Bas once.”
“He deserved it.”
“He usually does.”
Arietta’s expression softened thoughtfully. “She’s clearly been through something,” she said quietly.
The humour faded slightly, because yes, that much was obvious now. The fear they had seen in Edith hadn’t been small or recent.
Maeve curled one leg beneath herself, frowning. “She definitely hasn’t told us everything.”
“No,” Arietta agreed. “But honestly? I don’t think she knows how to.”
Isabeau sighed dramatically. “Trauma,” she declared. “Ruins everything.”
Maeve snorted softly but she understood some secrets became survival, and that was a hard skill to unlearn. Still, despite everything, despite the hiding and the panic and the apparently surprise-human situation, Maeve trusted Jessica’s instincts.
If Jessica trusted Edith, then Maeve would too. It was as simple as that.
“She stayed small to protect herself,” Arietta said quietly. “That’s… sad.”
Maeve nodded slowly. “But very dragon.”
“Very dragon,” Isabeau agreed.
Maeve reached over to the low table beside her chair, pulling the massive Book of Shadows into her lap with a soft grunt.
“Right,” she announced. “Enough emotional growth. Time for magic.”
“Questionable magic?” Isabeau asked hopefully.
“The best kind.”
Arietta sighed fondly. “You’re going to blow up another wall.”
“I’ll have you know,” Maeve said with dignity, “I have learned from my mistakes.”
“You wrote ‘less exploding’ on your hand.”
Maeve glanced down, the words had smudged slightly. “It’s a guideline.”
She opened the book anyway, flipping carefully through the thick pages.
Ink shimmered faintly across ancient parchment, symbols shifting slightly beneath her fingers as the magic within the book reacted to being touched.
Spell after spell flickered past, along with hand written notes from their mothers who were the previous guardians.
One page tried to bite her, Maeve smacked it lightly. “Behave.” The book rustled indignantly and then the cavern shifted.
A sudden gust of magical wind swept through the room without warning, cold and sharp enough to make all three witches jerk upright.
“What the—?”
The pages of the Book of Shadows flipped wildly on their own. Fast and violent, and the magic crackled through the air. The lights in the cavern pulsed, flashing from blue to green, to purple then red. Maeve’s breath caught because Merlin’s Gate was responding.
The wind stopped abruptly and silence crashed down as the book settled open on a single page. The title shimmered faintly in silver ink.
RIGHTING A WRONG
The three girls stared at it, then at each other.
“Well,” Isabeau said carefully. “That’s… new.”
Maeve’s pulse quickened slightly, excitement curling through her chest… the Gate had chosen.
Arietta leaned forward slightly, reading over Maeve’s shoulder. “This is old magic.”
Maeve nodded slowly. Power hummed beneath the page, ancient and deliberate… Intentional.
Like the spell had been waiting. Waiting specifically for… now.
A slow smile spread across Maeve’s face. “Looks like this is the one we’re practicing,” she said.
Arietta raised an eyebrow. “You say that like we have a choice.”
Maeve tapped the page lightly. “When the Gate calls,” she said simply, “we answer.”
Isabeau groaned dramatically. “Oh good. Mystical responsibility. My favourite.”
But she moved closer anyway, all three of them did. None of them noticed the pool behind them beginning to swirl. The waters of Merlin’s Gate shifted slowly, colours twisting beneath the surface, not the usual calm blue-green glow, but deeper now.
Purple. Silver. Red.
Magic pulsed outward in slow waves. An ancient power awakening.