“Well, the orcs can come with us as far as they can safely, and I will go the rest of the way on my own.”
“The shifters will be with you,” Keegan told me. “All the way up till the end. We will be by your side when you confront Gideon.”
I shook my head. “I don't think that's a good idea. He's had plenty of moments where he could have hurt me or taken me back to the Priestess. We're at the stage where we have to start trusting.”
Keegan’s jaw tightened, and he didn’t answer right away as we moved through the Butterfly Ward, the soft glow of butterfly wings above us fluttering along the path like everything here still believed in gentler things.
“I don’t like it,” he said finally.
“I didn’t ask you to,” I replied, keeping my voice even as I walked beside him, the gravel crunching softly beneath our steps.
Twobble hurried ahead, then doubled back, then hurried ahead again, like he had too much to say and nowhere to put it.
“You two do realize this is not the time to test trust exercises,” he muttered. “We’re dealing with a shadow stone, a Priestess who has entirely too much free time and shadow magic up her sleeve, and a goblin who is currently in way over his head.”
“That goblin chose to go,” I said.
“He chose poorly,” Twobble shot back.
Nova walked over to my other side, her gaze steadily ahead. “Gideon doesn’t move without purpose.”
“I know,” I said quietly.
“That doesn’t mean his purpose aligns with ours,” Keegan added.
“I know that too.”
We stepped out of the Butterfly Ward and into the narrow alley that led toward the main street of Stonewick, and the shift in space was immediately felt. The magic here felt different. Less contained. More exposed.
Stella trailed a step behind, her presence calm but watchful. “You’re all circling the same concern,” she said. “The question is whether you’re willing to act on instinct or wait for certainty.”
“I don’t think we have the luxury of certainty anymore,” I replied.
“That’s usually when instinct matters most,” she said.
Keegan let out a slow breath and ran a hand through his hair, his frustration quiet but present. “And what happens when instinct gets you hurt?”
I glanced at him. “Then you pull me back.”
He didn’t like that answer. “Except that you won't let me be anywhere near you.”
I could see it in the way his shoulders held just a little too tight, the way his gaze flicked toward me and then away again like he was holding something back.
Something he hadn’t said since the woods.
Since the fight.
Since Rendel.
The thought of him sat just beneath everything now, like a shadow that hadn’t fully stepped into the light yet.
Sure, we'd spoken a little bit earlier about his father, but he didn't say much, and certainly not enough to heal the wounds that his father caused.
We reached the end of the alley, the street opening up before us, morning fully settled over Stonewick now. The shops were opening, and voices carried softly in the distance. It should have felt normal, but it didn’t.
“We know what we need to do,” I said softly.
“Stop.” The word cut clean through the air, but the voice that went with it was even worse.
