“I know.”
“She’s trying to pull you inside.”
I looked toward the open balcony doors.
Darkness stretched beyond them, waiting for me.
Below us, the battle had spread across nearly every section of the compound grounds now. Witches moved through the courtyards in coordinated groups while goblins darted between stairwells carrying glowing lanterns and charms. Wolves surged through the lower passages, forcing shadow creatures back toward the central tower, while orcs held the broken western entrance against another wave pouring from beneath the cliffs.
The sound of it all blended strangely against the shifting magic.
Battle cries.
Howls.
Stone breaking.
The distant screams of prisoners beneath the compound.
And underneath it all, the low pulse of something ancient waking deeper below the hills.
Keegan’s eyes flicked sharply toward the eastern ridge and back toward me.
The look on his face changed instantly to fear, real fear.
“Maeve,” he said quietly.
The way he said my name sent ice through my veins.
Before I could respond, the balcony doors behind him slowly creaked wider, and cold air spilled outward from the darkness inside.
The pendant at my throat burned almost painfully hot, but the shadow mark remained silent.
Keegan turned immediately toward the opening.
Every muscle in his body tightened as a voice drifted softly into the night.
“Mom?”
Chapter Twenty-One
The moment I heard my name, I almost crumbled. My gaze scanned the opening and all around, but I didn’t see her.
“Mom.” Her voice was a little louder.
Keegan moved forward as he searched for the source.
“Mom.”
The sound of her voice slid beneath my skin and wrapped around every terrified part of me that had been trying to stay hopeful. It wasn’t only the word or the pitch or the way she stretched the vowel when fear hid beneath her stubbornness. It was the thread between us, the one no spell had ever created because motherhood had woven it long before magic came crashing into my life with color-changing tea and a bulldog father who winked.
“Celeste,” I called, my voice scraping out of me as the broom hovered near the broken balcony.
The darkness beyond the doors shifted as Keegan lifted one hand toward me without looking away from the opening. A quiet warning.
Twobble’s fingers dug into the back of my coat.
“Maeve,” he whispered. Every scrap of goblin sarcasm was stripped from his voice. “The air in there is wrong.”
