“How unstable?” I whispered.
“The shadows are moving wrong,” he said. “It’s as if something inside the compound is waking up.”
Ardetia closed her eyes sharply. “No,” she murmured under her breath.
“What?” Bella asked immediately.
My gaze moved to Ardetia’s.
“The center,” she said softly. “Something beneath it is stirring like we’ve spoken about before.”
Keegan exhaled harshly through the phone. “Maeve, whatever the Priestess is doing, she’s accelerating it.”
That decided it.
“We’re on it.” Any lingering hesitation inside me burned away instantly.
Keegan hung up.
I stepped forward and swung one leg over the broomstick.
The wood vibrated beneath my hands, recognizing me immediately.
Behind me, several other broomsticks lifted shakily into the air as the witches prepared themselves.
Twobble watched all of it with increasing horror. “I just want it officially documented that I preferred the tunnels and troughs.”
“No one asked you,” Skonk said.
“I asked me.” Twobble pointed at his chest. “And that counts for something.”
Lady Limora mounted her own broom with surprising elegance. “Honestly, this feels nostalgic.”
Vivian smiled faintly beside her. “Like the old days.”
“That sentence alone concerns me,” Caleb muttered.
Stella stepped over her broomstick and somehow still looked like she belonged in a painting instead of preparing for magical warfare.
“I do love a dramatic entrance,” she admitted.
Nova approached me slowly while the courtyard filled with rising broomsticks, shifters gathering at the gates, and orcs strapping gleaming weapons across broad shoulders beneath the moonlight.
“You understand,” she said quietly, “that once we cross into the compound tonight, there will be no more waiting games. Some of us might not return.”
I nodded. “I know.”
The truth settled heavily inside me, but the Priestess had taken my daughter.
She had my mother, and she had spent too long twisting lives and magic and fear into weapons while the rest of us scrambled behind her trying to undo the damage.
Enough.
I couldn't let her use her bloodline to her advantage. No tears, no stones, no immortality.
The Academy doors creaked wider behind us as more witches spilled into the courtyard carrying charms, lanterns, satchels of herbs, and enough determination to make the night itself nervous.
The building buzzed warmly at our backs, protective and proud.
