Speaker 1: Some lessons arrive gently. Others drop out of the sky,
shatter on impact, and demand your immediate attention. Fernwood instructional notes,
annotated by someone tired. The journal changed everything, not all
at once. There was no dramatic explosion of prophecy, no
lightning ripping through the rafters, no ghostly choir humming ominously overhead.
Henry privately thought this was a wasted opportunity. Instead, the
shift was quieter. Silver walked differently, not with arrogance, but
with awareness, like someone who finally felt connected to something
larger than fear. Henry noticed. He also noticed that quiet
confidence was deeply, profoundly dangerous when paired with curiosity, which
is why he perched on a stool in the cottage kitchen,
watching Silver carefully measure herbs, candles, and ingredients with an
intensity that could only mean one thing. She was about
to attempt spell work intentionally, Henry, She said, brightly, without
looking up. I think we're ready for something new. Henry
flattened his ears. We are not, Silver smiled. Henry felt
dread bloom. She consulted the journal, tapping a page titled
spell of safe Calling, summoned small, harmless magical entities for
training purposes. Note harmless is subjective. Silver cleared her throat
and read aloud, Moon above and earth below. Gentle spirits,
softly glow, Bring me guidance, bring me light, something small
and not affright. Henry placed a paw over his eyes.
Speaker 2: Oh good, he muttered, you rhymed. Magic always behaves terribly
when people rhyme.
Speaker 1: Silver ignored him. She added a pinch of rosemary, a
curl of lavender, a feather plucked from the broom, which
the broom did not appreciate. Then she lifted her hands
and whispered.
Speaker 3: Now.
Speaker 1: At first nothing happened. Silver blinked. Henry waited. A spark flickered,
then another. Then the entire bowl began to vibrate, like
an offended teapot.
Speaker 2: Henry backed away. Silver step away.
Speaker 1: I think it's working.
Speaker 2: It is working, Henry agreed, But that does not mean
it likes you.
Speaker 1: The vibration grew into a hum, then a whine. Then,
with a tiny, cheerful pop, something shot upward out of
the bowl. A glowing ball of light hovered in the air,
swirling with shimmering golden sparks. Silver gasped, Oh, it's beautiful.
Henry tilted his head.
Speaker 2: Is it wearing mittens?
Speaker 1: The orb bobbed, yes, mittens, two tiny mittenlike appendages, wiggled enthusiastically, Then,
with great determination, it zipped across the room and slammed
into the wall. Oh no, Silver cried, are you okay?
The orb bounced harmlessly, thrilled, and looped three chaotic spirals
through the air before colliding with a chair. Henry sighed,
you summoned enthusiasm with no concept of physics. The gold
sprite ricocheted off the fireplace, a kettle, and a ceiling beam.
I think it's trying to help, Silver said weakly. The
sprite paused midair, wiggled its mitten hands, and then every
candle in the room burst into flame. Henry's fur puffed.
Speaker 2: No, no, absolutely not, put it back.
Speaker 1: Silver frantically flipped through the journal. Undue spell, undue spell,
undue spell. The sprite lit the teapot next.
Speaker 2: Silver, I'm trying try harder.
Speaker 1: The sprite zipped toward the broom. The broom his like
a furious wet cat. Silver threw up her hands and
shouted stop. Miraculously everything froze. The sprite hovered the broom
paused midswipe, even the teapot reconsidered arson. Silver inhaled slowly.
Henry whispered, I would like to sit down now. Silver
placed her palms out and spoke clearly, thank you for coming.
I release you, please return peacefully. The sprite flickered once twice,
then drifted downward and dissolved into a puff of golden dust.
Silence fell. Henry exhaled. Silver lowered her hands, cheeks, flushed hair,
wild eyes bright well.
Speaker 3: She breathed.
Speaker 1: That could have gone worse. Henry surveyed the room. Nothing destroyed,
just scorched, dented or emotionally disappointed.
Speaker 2: Yes, he said, we could all be on fire.
Speaker 1: Silver giggled, and, despite himself, Henry's tail twitched in approval.
Lessons progress and mild disasters. They spent the remainder of
the day practicing controlled magic, lighting a single candle without
igniting the wallpaper, levitation limited to one spoon, not the
entire cutlery drawer, grounding magic to quiet her power when
it surged with excitement. Henry coached with the patience of
a creature who had seen centuries of witches learn, stumble, stubbornly,
try again, and eventually grow into themselves and Silver. Silver
glowed not magically thank the stars, but from a feeling
she hadn't known she needed purpose. Evening beneath the pines,
as the sun lowered, they sat beneath the pines outside
the cottage. Silver leaned back on her hands, exhausted but content.
Henry rested beside her, tailed neatly, gaze fixed on the
tree line. Henry, Silver whispered, do you think I'll ever
really control it? Henry did not look at her. His
voice was softer than dusk.
Speaker 2: You won't control magic, you will learn to dance with it.
Speaker 1: Silver smiled, a small, real one. Do you think I'll
be good at it? Henry finally turned.
Speaker 2: Oh, absolutely not at first, he said, calmly, but eventually yes,
worryingly so.
Speaker 1: Silver laughed and nudged him. Henry pretended to be unaffected.
Somewhere in the forest, unseen, Colt touched the glowing pendant
at his chest and took one step closer than the
day before, where Colt learns the world a stranger than expected.
Colt hadn't planned to stay in the hollow when he
first woke here, disoriented, bruised, lying beside a cat, who
stared like he'd been a disappointing delivery. He'd intended to
find an exit. Two years later, he was still here.
Some days he tried to forget the strangeness. He chopped wood,
built shelves, repaired the fence for no reason, pretended the
stillness did an itch beneath his skin. Other days he
could not pretend, days when the air tasted like old magic,
when the pendant warmed, when the hollow whispered stay. He
didn't believe in fate before, but fate had believed in him.
The first time he saw Silver, wild curls, soaked skirts
slamming into an iron railing, he thought she was a hallucination.
The swearing made her reel. The second time, lying in
the grass with Henry sprawled across her chest, something inside
him had shifted, a click, a lock, turning a beginning,
And after that he watched, not spying, just witnessing. He
wasn't ready to step forward, not yet, especially now that
his pendant glowed whenever she used magic, and the tiny
carved figure in its little window moved the morning the
teacup fell. A few days later, unbeknownst to him, Silver
was practicing levitation spells. He had just finished caring for
Thunder when something fell from the heavens and shattered at
his feet, a tea cup.
Speaker 3: Colt shouted, that should not have come from the sky.
Speaker 1: Thunder agreed. Moments later, Silver and Henry arrived. Silver flushed,
I think that's my tea cup. Colt stared at her, then,
despite everything, smiled well.
Speaker 3: He said, it certainly didn't belong to me.
Speaker 2: Henry muttered, don't encourage her.
Speaker 1: Colt stepped forward, so we finally meet. Silver rocked on
her heels. Yes, this is not awkward at all, she stated,
giving Henry a pleading look to help. Henry knew this
moment would eventually arrive. He is just not sure how
ready he was for it, or how ready they were
for it.
Speaker 2: He cleared his throat and stated, silver meat Colt. Colt
meet Siver immediately tried to look disinterested and hoped they
would just continue. He so despised social interaction that didn't
involve treats or neck scratches.
Speaker 1: Silver and Colt both looked at Henry, and they sat
down a few feet away on a falled tree, and
they fell into what at first was an awkward conversation,
but awkwardness felt easy, and Colt told her everything, the ranch,
the pendant, the day this strange world swallowed him whole.
Silver told him everything, the villagers, the escape, the dreams,
the magic awakening at her fingertips. Henry corrected them whenever
details became too sentimental. Thunder judged silently request Colt cleared
his throat.
Speaker 3: Do you think someday you could cast a spell to
let Thunder speak?
Speaker 1: Thunder perked up. Henry stared, as if Colt had swallowed
a broom handle. Wrong.
Speaker 3: You want the horse to talk. Colt shrugged. He judges
me with his eyes.
Speaker 2: Oh, he absolutely judges you, Henry said.
Speaker 1: Thunder snorted in agreement. Silver brightened. Someday maybe, yes, Henry groaned,
a promise made as the three parted.
Speaker 3: Colt lingered, when the time is right, tell me.
Speaker 1: Henry nodded, I will, and Henry.
Speaker 3: Colt added quietly, thank.
Speaker 1: You for a moment, just a moment. Henry's expression softened.
Speaker 2: You're welcome, then he added, quickly, try not to be useless.
Speaker 1: Henry closed his eyes.
Speaker 2: Damn you, rowan. They met finally properly.
Speaker 1: And as Silver stood before Colts, saying their goodbyes, magic
humming between them, as steady as breath. Henry whispered, well,
the
Speaker 2: Story has finally begun.