I held up a hand, with magic humming faintly through my fingers as the ribbiting finally tapered off into an aggrieved croak. The silence that followed felt heavier than the noise.
My first instinct was visceral, and a warm ache bloomed in my chest before I could stop it.
Of course, I wanted her close. Of course, I wanted her here, where I could see her every day, where I could keep her safe, where she could learn and grow and not be half a world away when the ground shifted beneath us.
But what if I couldn’t keep her safe because danger came here? At college, she was worlds away from the magic that spun its web so deeply in our village.
Sure, the Academy would welcome her. I knew it would. It already had.
“Celeste,” I said gently. “That’s… a big thing to ask.”
She nodded. “I know. I just—this feels important. My magic. Everything that’s happening. It feels wrong to leave in the middle of it.”
I reached for her hand, squeezing it lightly. “I understand that.”
“And,” she continued, voice quieter now, “I don’t feel like I fit back there the same way. I never have.”
That one hurt.
Because I recognized it. That sense of stepping back into a life that no longer quite fit, like putting on a coat that had shrunk while you weren’t looking. Kind of like my friendship with Skye.
“I know it feels like the Academy has answers,” I said carefully. “And it does. Sometimes. But it’s also not… safe right now.”
She frowned. “Is anywhere safe?”
“No,” I admitted. “But some places are safer than others.”
The toad let out a low, emphatic ribbit, like he was nodding along.
I shot him a look. “Don’t think this means I agree with you.”
He blinked.
“Magic likes to keep to itself and be unseen to most.”
Celeste’s gaze softened. “You think I’d be in danger here.”
“Yes,” I said immediately. “Not because you’re not capable. You are. But because things are moving, and when they move, they target what matters.”
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “And I matter.”
“You matter more than anything,” I said, my voice catching despite my best efforts. “And that’s exactly why I can’t say yes.”
She was quiet for a long moment, absorbing that.
“What if I learned faster here?” she asked. “What if staying helps me protect myself?”
The question was earnest and logical… And it gutted me.
“It might,” I said honestly. “But it also puts you closer to people who would use you. Or hurt you. Or make you a symbol.”
The warmth at my hip pulsed faintly, like a reminder ticking beneath my skin.
“And I won’t risk that,” I added softly.
The toad ribbited again, sharp and satisfied.
I closed my eyes briefly. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing with a toad.”
