Keegan leaned a hip against the counter. “We need tea.”
“You always need tea.” She reached for the kettle without asking which blend. “And I assume this isn’t social.”
“It is,” I said quickly. “It’s deeply social. But possibly revolutionary, too.”
Stella paused mid-pour. “Oh, good. Just when I was getting bored.”
We took a small table near the window. Stella joined us with a porcelain pot and three delicate cups.
She settled into her chair with practiced grace, folding her hands on the table.
“Talk,” she said.
“Another group of orcs, ones thought to be extinct, just showed up. The other orcs, surprisingly, took them in. More shifters are on the way, lots of them, and Keegan says his inn is fully booked.” I took a breath. “Things are changing.”
They always do.” She eyed me. “So, what are your thoughts?”
“I think we need to invite them in,” I said. “I don’t mean without structure, and we have to respect the Academy’s wishes, and it must be done with intentionality.”
Her scarlet lips curved slightly.
“But?”
“But I’m worried they’ll get turned away. My heart would break to see that happen to them.”
“Definethem,” she said.
“Shifters,” I replied. “Perhaps orcs. Non-witches in every magical form.”
Keegan stayed quiet and just watched us.
Stella leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other.
“This is a midlifewitchAcademy,” she said calmly.
“I’m aware.”
“It has always been a place for witches, either reclaiming or learning power through craft.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re proposing to open it to those who do not practice the craft.”
“I’m proposing to open it to those affected by it.”
“That’s a very Hedge Witch answer.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” My brows lifted.
She studied me for a long beat and finally let out a sigh.
“You’re worried about consolidation in the wrong hands,” she said.
“Yes.”
“You think if magical communities are displaced yet clustered, someone will demand a singular authority.”
“Yes.”
