The chat went quiet.
I set the phone down, screen still glowing, and leaned back. Every cell in my body hummed with a strange mix of relief and fear. Celeste was coming. Soon. Into a town sitting on a curse, between two grandmothers, under a looming circle.
“Breathe,” Keegan said.
“I am breathing,” I protested.
“Breathe with less panic,” he clarified.
“That’s not how lungs work.”
We sat with the lamp throwing a gentle pool of light over the table, the cottage murmuring around us. Mom hummed inthe other room. My dad snored faintly in his bulldog form by the fire.
“Hey,” Keegan said.
I looked at him.
“You’re a good mom,” he said simply.
The statement landed like an unexpected
I blinked against the sting in my eyes.
“You’re biased,” I said.
“Yep,” he agreed. “Still true.”
I gave a watery laugh. “You really think this is the right call? Bringing her here?”
His gaze held mine, steady and sure. “I think you’re stronger with your people close,” he said. “And I think your grandmother will have a harder time pushing you around if she sees what you’re willing to fight for.”
“That sounds like inviting trouble,” I said.
“We already did that,” he reminded me. “With Gideon and the circle. With the Hollows. With the Academy itself. This is inviting love. It feels similar. It isn’t.”
I let my head tip sideways until it rested lightly against his shoulder. He didn’t move, just adjusted enough to support the weight.
“Soon,” I murmured, thinking of Celeste’s text.
“Soon,” he echoed.
Outside, the Ward shimmered. The mirrors in the Academy, cracked and humming, held whatever new sigil had etched itself into their surface. The priestess waited ahead.Gideon prepared for a circle he’d somehow agreed to join. The hunger path coiled in the distance, patient.
Inside the cottage, my phone, facedown on the table, buzzed once more with a message. I turned it over to see a message from Celeste.
btw mom
I had the weirdest dream last night about a woman with dark hair and a circle of mirrors. remind me to tell you when I get there
The screen dimmed.
The kettle, oblivious, chose that moment to shriek again.
And the night held its breath around us, just for a moment, as if acknowledging that the next chapter had already started moving.
Chapter Twenty
Morning came early, but anxiety came earlier.
