He was already moving, his hand brushing mine as he fell into step beside me. I didn’t argue. I didn’t need to. The tension coiled tighter with every footstep as we followed the lit corridor, the rest of the group trailing behind at a cautious distance.
I felt him there without looking, his presence like a question mark I couldn’t quite turn to face. I didn’t know whether I wanted him near the door or as far from it as possible.
The front hall loomed ahead, vast and echoing, its ceiling lost in shadow. The great doors stood closed, ancient wood etched with sigils that shimmered faintly as we approached. The chime sounded one last time, reverberating through the space until even the air seemed still.
Keegan reached the doors first.
He paused, glancing at me, searching my face.
I nodded.
Together, we placed our hands against the wood.
The Academy sighed.
The doors swung open.
Cold night air rushed in, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and something else—familiar, unsettling, impossible to place. Lantern light spilled outward, illuminating the stone steps and the figure standing just beyond the threshold.
I stopped breathing.
Keegan went utterly still.
Behind us, someone swore softly. Someone else gasped.
The Academy’s hum shifted, deepening, not in warning, not in welcome, but in recognition so profound it made my skin prickle.
I knew, with a certainty that had nothing to do with logic, that everything we thought we understood about what had just ended, and what was about to begin, had shifted again.
The person standing there met my gaze.
And the night held its breath.
Chapter Nine
For one blessed, uncomplicated moment, everything in me softened.
“Celeste.”
She stood on the Academy’s front step like this was perfectly normal, with a backpack slung over one shoulder, hair pulled into that familiar not-quite-trying knot, eyes bright with curiosity and a touch of exhaustion that came from college life and late-night caffeine rather than shadow realms or magical peril.
Relief flooded me so fast it made my vision blur.
I crossed the threshold and wrapped her in a hug before she could say a word, holding her longer than necessary, breathing in the scent of laundry detergent and campus coffee shops andnormalcy.
“Mom,” she laughed, hugging me back. “You remember I said I was coming tonight?”
I forgot. How could I forget my own daughter’s visit?
She pulled back, smiling, and gave me a once-over. “You look like you fought a forest.”
“Accurate,” I muttered.
Her gaze slid past me, with amused recognition lighting her face when she spotted Keegan.
She waved. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he replied easily. “Welcome back.”
