He nodded once and took off down the corridor, his little feet surprisingly fast, his usual snark replaced by sharp focus.
I knelt by my dad and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Stay with me.”
He snorted like I was being ridiculous and stuck close to my side, tail twitching, ears up.
The lanterns were still out in the wing. The shimmer hadn’t advanced, but I knew that didn’t mean it wasn’t spreading.
It was just being patient.
I moved quickly now. The few students still meandering near the great hall pulled aside, sensing something had changed.
The calm was thinning, and magic knew before minds did.
I found Nova in the side corridor just off the entry vestibule, where she’d been reviewing spellwork notes on floating parchment with two students.
She turned when she felt me, and immediately dismissed the students without a word.
“What is it?” she asked.
“There’s a shimmer in the west wing,” I said. “It’s like a fold in the air. It reminds me of the Hedge being manipulated.”
Her expression shifted into immediate seriousness.
“The Wards?” she asked.
“Unresponsive.”
She didn’t hesitate and stood.
“Twobble is rounding everyone up.”
She was already moving as I turned.
Stella walked over to us and glanced at my trembling hands.
“Something’s wrong,” I said without preamble.
Stella blinked, then stood, brushing off her hands. “What happened?”
“A shimmer. Magic. It’s not hostile. But it’s foldingin.”
She didn’t waste time asking questions, nodded once, and followed me.
By the time we returned to the scene of the crime, Nova had lit the space with her own magic. The usual sconces were dim, and her spell light painted the walls in gold-blue light that rippled like shallow water.
Ardetia arrived next, with Twobble beside her and a look on her face that I couldn’t quite read—worry, maybe, or something deeper.
Keegan came through the hall minutes later. He still wore his coat, dusted with the last raindrops of an early spring storm.
He didn’t speak.
Just looked at me, then the others.
And waited.
“We’ve had a breach,” Nova said, keeping her voice low and measured. “Not violent. But precise. Maeve saw the shimmer first. West wing. Space is folding.”
“Like something from the Hedge,” I added.
