Keegan stopped near the front, lifting his head slightly, wolf eyes scanning the room with quiet assessment. The Silver Wolf sat with elegant patience. My dad stood, ears forward, gaze locked on me in a way that made my throat tighten.
Twobble climbed down from his stool with great seriousness and hurried toward the wolves, clipboard held up as if he might need to take attendance.
I looked back at the witches. Their expressions shifted across the room—some wary, some thoughtful, some watching with the quiet intensity that comes when people realize something important is unfolding before them.
And in that moment, it became clear.
This was where it changed.
And it wasn’t because of a speech or because of a perfectly drawn plan. It was simply because we were standing here together.
Presence mattered. Witness mattered.
Proof mattered.
I lifted my voice again, softer this time.
“We’re stronger when we stand together.”
The words didn’t feel rehearsed or polished. They settled into the room like something already known, something waiting to be spoken aloud.
“And if the Priestess wants control,” I said quietly, “unity is the one thing she can’t bargain for—if we claim it before she ever has the chance.”
My gaze moved slowly across the room, meeting faces one by one before settling again on the wolves, then my mother, and finally Stella, who stood there with that calm, ancient steadiness that made the air itself feel grounded.
“Never once have I felt like I would wind up on a dinner plate,” Twobble announced, turning around to the sea of witches.
They chuckled, and Twobble puffed his chest out.
“This Academy was built for reinvention,” I said. “So let’s reinvent what safety looks like. Together.”
Chapter Nine
The energy didn’t collapse inward. It turned outward.
“They’re going to freeze out there,” someone murmured near the middle tables.
Another witch nodded. “If they’re camping near the ridge, it gets damp after sunset.”
“And if they brought families…” someone else added quietly.
I watched it happen in real time. It was that pivot from fear to logistics.
Matele from registration earlier stepped forward. She glanced at Twobble, who was petting Cindy on his shoulder.
Matele had that determined look I’ve seen on women when they know they have an idea that will make a difference.
“Headmistress?” she called gently.
I turned toward her. “Yes?”
She swallowed once. “What would you think about… putting something together?”
“For?” I asked, though I knew.
“For the orcs. And the shifters.” She lifted one shoulder slightly. “Not charity. Just… supplies. Tea. Food. Maybe some salves. Something that says we see you.”
For a second, I just stared at her.
