Magical Musing (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy Book 2) by D.K. Bolton

Author:D.K. Bolton [Bolton, D.K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Be the Magic Publishing
Published: 2025-02-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Maeve, what are you doing here?”

Nova’s voice ripped through the silence, breaking apart the strange stillness like a sudden storm.

The other voice disappeared like it never existed.

Before I could turn, her hand latched around my arm, fingers gripping tight.

There was no patience in her tone—just urgency. Her sharp, knowing gaze scanned the room before flicking back to me, and then, without another word, she pulled.

I stumbled as my boots scuffed against the smooth floor as she dragged me away from the glowing space, moving too fast for me to protest.

“Nova—what—”

“Not here,” she hissed. “Not on this floor.”

My confusion thickened as we rushed through a narrow hallway, our steps echoing in the eerie stillness.

Nova’s grip never loosened.

Her pace never slowed.

At the base of a spiraling staircase, she finally let go just long enough to nod toward the steps. “Up. Now.”

I swallowed, glancing over my shoulder at the room behind us, full of light, love, and patience. And yet… Nova’s urgency said otherwise.

So I climbed.

The air shifted the higher we went. The warmth faded into something hotter, thicker. It didn’t feel like the golden glow before—it was sharper, more intense, like stepping too close to a roaring fire.

And then we reached the second level.

I stopped short, my breath catching in my throat.

Cauldrons.

Dozens of them.

Massive.

Blackened iron pots, each one brimming with molten liquid that bubbled and churned like lava. Orange and red light flickered against the stone walls, illuminating the space with an eerie, shifting glow.

And above them—

I took a step back.

They looked like sprites, their small, fluttering forms hovering over the cauldrons, their translucent wings shimmering in the firelight. But unlike book sprites—creatures of ink and paper—these creatures weren’t pulling knowledge from pages.

They were feeding the bubbling liquid below them. Giving it something.

“What the hell is this?” I breathed, my gaze locked on the hypnotic movement of the creatures as they dove into the flames and flicked tiny embers into the mixture.

Nova crossed her arms. “The memory forges.”

I turned sharply to face her. “The what?”

“The cauldrons,” she clarified, her gaze scanning the room like she expected something—or someone—to jump out at any moment. “They hold memories. Moments of magic, pieces of thought, emotion, power.”

“What?”

“The sprites,” she gestured to the hovering creatures, “aren’t book sprites, Maeve.”

I swallowed hard. “Then what are they?”

Nova’s expression darkened as the firelight danced across her face.

“They’re sprites. Keepers of flame and thought.”

I stared at the cauldrons again, the bubbling, angry liquid swirling inside.

Memory.

Fire.

Thought.

I didn’t know why, but a chill ran through me despite the heat.

The molten liquid churned like a living thing, the sprites dipping in and out, flickering embers trailing in their wake. The heat pressed against my skin, thick and suffocating, but it was the weight of understanding— or lack thereof— that made my stomach twist.

I turned to Nova, searching her face for answers.

“Okay,” I said, exhaling slowly. “I get that this is the Flame Ward, but what does it have to do with memory and thought?”

Nova studied me for a long moment, her gaze questioning.

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