Goody Magic Academy, Year Three

Chapter 24

Chapter

Twenty-Four

W e stepped out onto the headmaster’s porch, the aged wood creaking softly beneath our feet. The air was thick and humid, carrying the rich, heady scent of magnolias and the faint, dank notes of the nearby Mississippi River.

Sunlight cascaded down on Red Rose Academy, bathing the grounds in a golden glow that shimmered on the meticulously manicured, emerald green lawns.

The historic buildings of the academy stood proud and tall, their columned facades and wraparound porches harking back to a bygone era. Shadows cast by the buildings stretched across the grounds, offering pockets of coolness in the warm Southern day.

The academy’s signature red roses were in full bloom, their vibrant petals standing out against the weathered white paint of the antebellum buildings, transforming the gardens into a riot of crimson. The flowers swayed gently in the warm breeze, their sweet fragrance wafting through the air and mingling with the earthy smells of sun-warmed brick and old wood.

In the distance, the soft chatter of students and the occasional peal of laughter drifted toward us on the gentle breeze, and birds chirped sweetly in the ancient, gnarled oak trees that dotted the campus.

It was a scene of perfect tranquility, an idyllic snapshot of life in New Orleans that was utterly at odds with the turmoil roiling within me. The beauty and normalcy of it all felt almost surreal, as if the academy existed in a perfect bubble, untouched by the danger and urgency of our situation. To any casual observer, this would appear to be just another ordinary day in the Crescent City, with no hint of the magical peril that awaited us.

Valentin looked at Jaxon. “Do you know where in Lumina Glade the cathedral is?”

Jaxon’s brow furrowed, gazing into the middle distance as he recalled a memory. “Yes. I’ve been there before, as a child,” he said, his voice low and tinged with unease. “It’s a dreary, dilapidated place.” He paused, a visible shiver running through him despite the warm day. “We always said it was haunted.”

Rose’s face grew somber, her usual vibrant energy dimming. “And you were right—it is,” she said in a solemn whisper. The weight of her words hung in the air, adding another layer of tension to our already fraught situation. She glanced between us, concern etched in her face. “How are you planning to get there?”

A surge of excitement rushed through me, my dragon stirring beneath my skin. The familiar warmth of impending transformation spread through my limbs. I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “By dragon, I guess,” I said, my voice rough as my beast within pushed closer to the surface. “Fastest way to get there.”

My fingers trembled with adrenaline and anticipation as I tore off my clothes, the fabric nearly ripping under my fevered hands as I cast my garments aside with reckless abandon.

The cool air hit my bare skin, raising goosebumps across my flesh, but the chill lasted only a moment. Heat surged through my body, starting in my core and radiating outward with an intensity that took my breath away. My bones began to shift and elongate: usually the sensation was uncomfortable, but now it felt like sweet relief.

The transformation overtook me faster than ever before, as if my dragon form was eager to claw its way to the surface. Black iridescent scales erupted across my skin in a wave, and my vision sharpened as my eyes changed and the world around me burst into vivid detail. I could see every vein in the rose petals, hear Jaxon’s and Rose’s rapid heartbeats beside me.

My body continued to grow and change, muscles rippling and reshaping under my hardening skin. Wings sprouted from my back and unfurled with a sound like leather snapping in the wind. As the last of the change washed over me, I realized I was panting, steam curling out of my nostrils.

The dragon within me—no, the dragon that was me—let out a low, rumbling growl. Every fiber of my being thrummed with energy and anticipation, my scales quivering with barely contained power. It was as if my dragon already knew the gravity of our mission, understood the threat of the high priestess, and was eager—desperate—to meet this challenge head-on.

I turned my now-massive head toward Jaxon and Rose, seeing their awestruck expressions with my large, reptilian eyes. The dragon’s desire for action, for flight, for confrontation, was burning in me like wildfire. We were ready. The high priestess wouldn’t know what hit her.

Jaxon moved quickly to scoop up my discarded clothes. His eyes darted to the horizon, flaring with urgency. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice tight. “I just spotted the headmaster’s car.”

Without hesitation, he vaulted onto my back, his body warm against my scales. I felt his thighs tighten around my neck and his hands grab onto the ridges along my spine. His heartbeat thrummed against my hide, a rapid staccato that matched my own racing pulse.

Ethan’s voice cut through the air, sharp with determination. “Go, all of you,” he commanded, his usually calm demeanor replaced by fierce protectiveness. “Now.”

I didn’t stop to look back at my friends, or Ethan. My dragon was singularly focused, every instinct screaming to take flight. With a powerful thrust of my hind legs, I launched into the air, my wings catching the wind and propelling us skyward.

The world fell away beneath us as we climbed ever higher into the vast expanse of blue. The academy shrank until it looked like a collection of toy buildings, the roses mere specks of red. The air grew cooler as we ascended, the humidity yielding to the crispness of higher altitudes.

Wind rushed over my scales and Jaxon tightened his grip as we picked up speed. New Orleans stretched out below us, a familiar patchwork of streets and buildings with the silvery ribbon of the Mississippi winding through them. But my gaze was fixed firmly ahead, on the shadowy expanse of the bayou in the distance.

Jaxon leaned close, pressing himself against my neck to reduce wind resistance. His presence was a comforting reminder that I wasn’t facing this alone.

As we sped toward our destination, thoughts of my parents filled my mind. Memories of my mother flashed before my eyes—her smiling face, the warmth of her embrace—and my heart sickened when I thought about the terror she must be feeling now. Each beat of my wings was fueled by a desperate determination.

Hang on, Mom , I thought fiercely, willing them to feel my presence speeding toward them across the miles. We’re coming, Father. You won’t suffer any longer. The words became a mantra, pulsing through me with each powerful beat of my wings.

The bayou with its murky waters and twisted trees loomed closer. Somewhere in that tangle of wilderness, the high priestess was waiting. But so were my parents, and nothing—not fear, not exhaustion, not even the headmaster’s wrath—would stop me from reaching them.

With a roar that split the sky, I surged forward, my dragon cutting through the air like a blade. The rescue mission had begun, and failure was not an option.

As I soared over New Orleans, the city sprawled beneath me like a living tapestry. The French Quarter bustled with activity, a sea of colorful umbrellas and awnings dotting the streets. My keen dragon vision picked out individual people strolling down Bourbon Street, tourists snapping photos, and street performers entertaining crowds, all blissfully unaware of the magical drama unfolding above their heads.

Jaxon must have read my thoughts because he shifted on my back, leaning close to my ear. “The mafia kings,” he shouted over the rush of wind. “They’re the only ones who might have an inkling of what’s happening.”

I snorted, a plume of smoke curling from my nostrils. Dimitri’s words echoed in my mind—the vampire king wasn’t even interested in the Dragon Nexus. But doubt niggled at the back of my thoughts. Just because the vampire king said that, it didn’t mean others weren’t pulling strings behind the scenes.

As we passed over St. Louis Cathedral in the heart of New Orleans, its iconic spires reached toward us like accusatory fingers. The sun glinted off the white facade, momentarily blinding me. A chill twisted my spine despite the warmth of the day, and my scales rippled with unease.

Jaxon leaned forward again, his breath warm against my neck as he shouted over the wind, “Remember, there’s another one out there!”

How could I forget? My mind raced to the other St. Louis Cathedral, the one hidden deep in the bayou. Unlike its urban counterpart, this one was shrouded in mystery and filled with dark magic. As we soared over the transition from city to swamp, I struggled to shake the foreboding feeling growing in my chest.

Who might be waiting for us at that secluded cathedral? Would we find any allies there at all? Unlikely. And how many enemies? My muscles tensed, smoke curling from my nostrils. The uncertainty made my scales prickle with unease.

The lush green expanse of the bayou began to unfold beneath us. Lakes appeared like mirrors scattered across the landscape, their surfaces broken only by the occasional leap of a fish or the ripples from a submerged alligator moving beneath the surface. Cypress trees rose from the water, their gnarled roots creating a maze of channels and hidden coves. The air grew heavy again with humidity, filled with the rich, organic scent of decaying vegetation and murky water.

I dipped lower and lower until the tips of my wings were nearly brushing the tops of the trees. Spanish moss swayed in the wake of our passing, like ghostly fingers reaching out to grab us. The noise of the city was replaced by the raucous calls of birds and the deep, rumbling bellows of bull alligators.

My nostrils flared, drinking in the scents of the bayou, searching for any trace of magic or human presence that might lead us to our destination. With each powerful beat of my wings, we drew closer to the hidden St. Louis Cathedral, closer to answers, and closer to danger. Whatever—or whoever—was waiting for us there, Jaxon and I would face it together.

Then I saw it. We had arrived.