As he turned toward the door, Luna reached out and touched his sleeve. The gesture was light but deliberate.
He paused.
“Be careful,” she said quietly. “Both of you.”
Gideon’s mouth curved faintly, something like regret passing through his eyes before he stepped away.
Luna looked back at me, her gaze steady and open.
“I’ll be here if you need anything,” she said.
I nodded, unable to find words that felt sufficient.
Outside, sunlight spilled across the sidewalk as Gideon stepped beside me. Skonk gasped loudly from behind the trash can, nearly dropping his scone.
Behind us, Luna’s shop continued its quiet work with threads aligning and stitches completing, as if the magic there understood exactly what kind of day this was and intended to keep weaving until the very end.
We walked side by side through Stonewick without speaking, and for once the silence didn’t feel hostile. It felt weighted
The village went about its business around us, blissfully unaware that one of the most dangerous mages walked openly along the path, hands loose at his sides, expression unreadable. A wind chime sang two doors down while someone laughed near the bakery.
But I had questions, too many of them. The thoughts crowded behind my ribs, jostling for space, each one sharper than the last and creating tension in my chest.
The Priestess.
Shadowick.
The way Gideon’s magic never quite settled, always restless, always searching.
Luna’s shop lingered in my thoughts, the softness in her eyes when she’d looked at him, the history I couldn’t touch but felt pressing close all the same. And beneath it all, the one question for him I didn’t know how to shape without cutting myself on it.
Why did you agree?
But asking Gideon anything was like stepping onto ice without knowing where it might crack or how I might fall.
So I walked, listening to the rhythm of our steps. I watched the way his gaze tracked reflections in windows, the way he tilted his head slightly as if measuring the town against an internal map that never stopped updating.
“You’re quiet,” he said eventually, not looking at me.
“I could say the same,” I replied.
A corner of his mouth lifted. “You could.”
“I know you have questions,” he said.
I glanced at him. “Why wouldn’t I?”
He let out a breath that might have been a laugh if it had been warmer. “You’re terrible at hiding your thoughts, Maeve.”
“And you’re terrible at answering direct questions,” I shot back. “Which is why I haven’t asked any yet.”
“That’s considerate of you.”
“I try.” I wanted to say it sarcastically, but sarcasm had never been my strong suit.
We walked a little farther and turned down the tiny alley. The Academy rose ahead of us beyond the Butterfly Ward. Its towers caught the light, and I wondered just how far it would let Gideon come. I felt the Academy stirring, the low hum underfoot, the awareness heightening as we drew closer.
It knew we were coming. It always did.
