Karvey nodded once. “Gladly.”
Twobble opened his mouth, likely to protest staying behind, then caught sight of Miora’s face and shut it again. He padded over to her and rested a green hand on her knee.
“You’re not allowed to die,” he told me, voice wobbling.
“I’ll do my best,” I said.
Skonk straightened his spectacles.
“I’ll document everything,” he said. “From a safe distance.”
Mom was already moving, sleeves pushed up, fingers tracing sigils in the air around the doorframe, muttering under her breath. Her magic smelled like rosemary and ozone, snapping against my skin. Dad joined her, laying his hands on the wood, lending steady, earthy strength.
“If anything tries to break out,” he said, “it hits the Ward and us.”
“Comforting,” I muttered.
Keegan stepped aside—reluctantly.
“I’ll be right behind you,” he said. “If you scream, I’m breaking all of Karvey’s rules.”
I took one more breath, centering myself. The hum from below thrummed in my bones, keyed specifically to something in me. My butterfly mark was a steady burn now, not quite pain, not quite comfort.
“Okay then,” I whispered to no one in particular. “Let’s go say hi to whatever is under this house.”
The line of light outlining the cellar door was bright enough now that I could make out faint symbols etched into the wood—previously invisible. Circles within circles. A spiral. A pattern I recognized from the Academy’s oldest diagrams.
Elira’s work.
Of course.
My hand shook a little as I gripped the iron ring and pulled.
The trapdoor lifted easily, far more easily than it had any right to, considering the last time we’d opened it.
The light beneath spilled up around the edges, bathing my face in stark, silvery glow.
Cold air flowed out, but not the damp chill of earth, but a cleaner, sharper cold. It smelled faintly of old stone and something like moonlight on water.
Not Shadowick. Not quite the Academy either. A third thing. A cousin.
I glanced back one last time.
My mom stood by the table, hands still hovering in charmed positions, eyes bright with fear and pride. Dad at her side, jaw set, ready. Twobble and Skonk flanked Miora, who watched me like she was memorizing every line of my face. Karvey loomed near the opening, solid as the foundations.
Keegan squeezed my hand once, hard.
“I love you,” he said quietly, no theatrics, no lead-in, just truth.
It hit me like the first real breath after being underwater.
“I love you too,” I said. My voice didn’t shake as much as I thought it would. “If something explodes—”
“I’ll come get you,” he said.
“That is not what I was going to say.”
“I know.”
