Twobble snorted. “Music to my ears.”
I took Celeste’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Today’s for us.”
She squeezed back. “I like that plan.”
We headed for the door together, leaving the toad behind, the Academy humming quietly in our wake.
For the first time since Celeste arrived, I let myself believe that it was okay, just for a few hours, to choose joy over vigilance.
Stonewick would still be there when we returned, and so would the rest of it.
Right now, my daughter needed me, and I needed her because what became apparent was that her magic was coming on strong, and we would need to prepare.
As we wandered out of the Academy, it felt rather rebellious, as if choosing a normal morning in Stonewick counted as defying a prophecy.
Celeste stayed close without clinging, her fingers laced through mine, her steps a little lighter now that Gideon wasn’t within view and no one was yelling about Wards, vows,or exploding architecture. Twobble had offered to come with us, then remembered he’d promised to supervise amphibian containment, which I didn’t question because, honestly, someone needed to keep Alex from attempting another smug hop into a wine cellar. I didn’t need to deal with a drunk toad when I returned because Alex could never handle his liquor.
The Butterfly Ward greeted us the way it always did, like a breath drawn in through the nose and released through the mouth, gentle and grounding. The air grew sweeter, laced with the faintest hint of fallen leaves and crushed greenery, and the color returned to the world in a way that wasn’t loud but was undeniably present.
Butterflies drifted through the space, their wings catching the light, and the Ward’s vines arched overhead as if they were making a canopy specifically for Celeste and me, as if Stonewick itself had decided we deserved softness.
The false fall was still settled over the town beyond, that enchanted season that arrived even when the calendar insisted it shouldn’t. The Ward held the last of summer at its edges, but the moment we passed through the narrowing path and down the familiar alley that funneled toward the village, it was all pumpkins and crisp air and the sort of golden light that made every window look like it was glowing from the inside.
Celeste glanced up at the hanging lanterns strung between the buildings and smiled in spite of herself.
“Okay,” she admitted. “This is… adorable.”
“It’s aggressively adorable,” I said, and she laughed, the sound easing something tight in my chest.
Stonewick’s narrow alley opened into the village like a curtain pulled back. The street was lined with decoratedstorefronts and scattered pumpkins in every shape imaginable, some carved with friendly faces, some left basic and polished, and some enchanted to tremble slightly whenever anyone walked too close, as if they were gossiping about passersby.
Orange and red leaves that didn’t belong to any adjacent tree swirled along the ground in tidy little vortexes, never straying into the road long enough to become litter, and the air carried the scent of cinnamon and warm bread that made it impossible to feel entirely afraid.
The village had that lived-in charm that always felt like a hug, but now that I knew what lurked beyond the edges, I couldn’t help but stay on guard slightly.
Celeste stared at a pumpkin display near Luna’s knitting shop window and then turned to me with sudden seriousness.
“So,” she said, “when are the students coming back?”
I blinked, startled by how normal the question sounded, how easily she said it, as if the Academy had always been a place with students and schedules rather than curses and secrets.
“A week from now,” I replied. “If everything holds.”
Her brows lifted. “That soon?”
“It’s the Academy,” I said, and shrugged. “It wakes up, and then it expects everyone else to keep up. There’s not a lot of easing into things with sentient buildings. Cottage is the same way.”
Celeste made a face. “That sounds stressful.”
“It is,” I agreed, then softened it with a smile. “But it’s also exciting. The Academy’s been dormant for so long that the idea of midlife students laughing in those halls again feels like… like the town is finally taking a full breath.”
She nodded slowly, absorbing that, and we kept walking, weaving through the gentle bustle. A couple of townsfolk waved, and Celeste waved back a little awkwardly, still finding her footing in this version of my life, this version of her own.
We headed toward Stella’s tea shop because, in Stonewick, it was the closest thing we had to a community hearth. The windows were fogged slightly from warmth inside, and the sign above the door swung with that familiar confident sway, as if it knew it was the best place on the street. A witchy wreath hung from the handle, woven with dried herbs and tiny paper stars, and the bell above the door chimed the moment we stepped inside.
Warmth wrapped around us immediately, along with the smell of steeped tea, sugar, and something darker and richer that I suspected was Stella’s extra-strength vampire blend plotting quietly in a corner.
Stella looked up from behind the counter, her silver hair pinned neatly, her expression serene in the way it always was right before she said something sharp.
