Chapter 26
Teddy
Istared at the figure in the flowing cloak, unable to see a face within the hooded darkness.
“I am your guide through the Dream, through the waters of truth,” it said, the voice filling the space around me unnaturally. “Are you prepared to see what lies beneath the surface of your mind?”
“Yes,” I managed, though I wasn’t sure if I was speaking aloud or merely thinking the words. “Show me the truth about Nerion. Show me if I’m really enchanted.”
“There is much to see,” the guide said, reaching out a ghostly white hand. “We’ll start at the beginning.”
“The Halloween party?” I asked, taking their hand. “When I met him?”
The hood shook, an ethereal laugh echoing out from it. “No. We start at the very beginning. Your birth.”
I frowned, confused. “My birth? What does that have to do with Nerion?”
“Everything is connected,” the guide replied, their watery form rippling as they moved. “To understand the enchantments affecting your heart, we must understand all magic that has touched your life.”
The void around us shifted, colors swirling until they formed a scene. It was a hospital room. I saw my mother lying in bed, her face glistening with sweat but triumphant. My father stood beside her, looking down at a tiny bundle in her arms. Me.
“Watch,” the guide instructed.
My father leaned over the newborn me, his eyes not filled with the love I might have expected but with something more calculating. He pulled out a wand and began tracing symbols over my infant form while muttering incantations.
“What is he doing?” I asked, stepping closer.
“Your father is casting the first of many spells,” the guide explained. “A compulsion charm, designed to make you naturally inclined toward physical activity, particularly swimming.”
I felt my stomach drop. “He... he enchanted me as a baby?”
“The first of many such enchantments,” the guide confirmed. “Watch.”
The scene shifted, and I saw myself as a toddler, perhaps three years old, throwing a tantrum over something trivial. My mother’s face twisted with frustration before she discreetly flicked her wrist. Instantly, I calmed, my eyes glazing slightly.
“A behavioral modification spell,” the guide said. “Used repeatedly throughout your childhood whenever you displayed too much independence or rebellion. Not uncommon amongst witch families, but heavily leaned upon in your case.”
My heart raced as scene after scene unfolded.
My father casting enhancement spells before my first swim lessons.
My mother weaving subtle enchantments into my food to increase my focus during study time.
Both of them working complex magic to suppress certain personality traits they found inconvenient.
Mostly my creativity, my stubbornness, and my natural inclination toward artistic endeavors rather than athletics.
“They’ve been manipulating me my entire life,” I whispered, horrified.
“Yes,” the guide said simply. “Their magic has shaped much of who you believe yourself to be.”
Anger welled up inside me. “How could they do this? It’s... it’s abusive!”
“Many parents seek to mold their children,” the guide said, neither condemning nor excusing. “Yours simply had magical means to do so more directly.”
I watched a teenage version of myself struggling with an alchemical equation, frustration evident on my face. My father entered, observed for a moment, then subtly cast a clarity charm when I wasn’t looking. Suddenly, my expression changed, the concepts clicking as if I’d figured it out myself.
“I always thought I was naturally gifted,” I said bitterly. “But it was just them, pulling strings.”
“Not entirely,” the guide corrected. “The potential was yours. The magic merely... enhanced certain abilities while suppressing others.”
The scenes continued, showing years of subtle magical manipulation.
I watched myself hitting puberty, struggling with normal teenage mood swings.
After a particularly heated argument with my parents about wanting to quit the swim team, I saw my father slip something into my drink at dinner.
The next day, I was back in the pool, my rebellion forgotten.
“They’ve been drugging me?” I asked, horrified.
“Potions,” the guide corrected. “A combination of magical herbs and enchanted liquids designed to make you more compliant, more focused on their goals for you rather than your own desires.”
Tears burned in my eyes as I watched myself growing up, a puppet dancing on invisible strings. Every major decision, every pivotal moment… there they were, subtly steering me with magic and manipulation.
“What about college?” I asked. “Did I even choose Widdershins myself?”
The guide waved a hand, and I saw my parents in their study, discussing applications.
“Theodore will attend Widdershins,” my father said firmly. “It’s close enough that we can maintain influence, yet prestigious enough for our standards.”
“But he’s mentioned wanting to look at other programs,” my mother replied, looking concerned. “He mentioned wanting to go to another country to see how they study magic there.”
My father scoffed. “A passing phase. I’ve already prepared the acceptance persuasion spell. He’ll believe it was entirely his idea.”
I felt sick. “So even that wasn’t my choice.”
“Your life has been carefully orchestrated,” the guide acknowledged. “But recently, something changed.”
The scene shifted to my first day at Widdershins. I saw myself walking across campus, but there was something different in my step, a subtle resistance to the magical bindings that had controlled me for so long.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Distance,” the guide explained. “Physical separation from the source of enchantment weakens its hold. And Widdershins itself has ancient protections that naturally dissolve external magical influences on its students. It’s why many young witches find themselves. .. changing... during their time here.”
I watched myself in those early weeks at school, slowly becoming more myself, whoever that was.
The rebellious thoughts that had been suppressed for years began to surface.
My interest in things beyond swimming and academics started to emerge.
I began to fight the constant networking functions my parents dragged me to.
But then the guide showed me what I now expected.
Every time my parents pulled me away to attend a party or holiday, it wasn’t because they wanted me to network.
At least, that wasn’t their main goal. I saw them subtly enchanting me during those parties, slipping me potions, making me more pliable under their fingers.
It was a never ending dance I did, taking one step forward and then two steps back, never truly gaining ground.
Then the scene shifted. This year.
“Then I met Nerion,” I said softly.
The guide nodded, and the scene shifted to the first night I saw him in the pool.
How mesmerized I was by this carefree naked man that was so cool and confident.
I saw Halloween party next. I watched myself bumping into Nerion, our eyes meeting through our masks.
But what I noticed now, with the guide’s perspective, was a faint golden glow around me.
It was the remnants of my parents’ enchantments.
And how, in Nerion’s presence, it seemed to dim.
“What’s happening there?” I asked, pointing to the fading glow.
“Many inherently magical creatures, especially elemental beings like sirens, naturally disrupt certain types of magic,” the guide explained.
“Their connection to the primal forces of the ocean gives them an innate ability to wash away enchantments, even unconsciously. They are the tides upon the sand when it comes to magic.”
I watched our first interaction, searching for any sign that Nerion was using his siren abilities on me. But his mouth remained closed when we spoke, no hint of song or enchantment passing his lips.
“He’s not singing to me,” I observed.
“No,” the guide confirmed. “Not here, nor in any interaction to follow.”
The scenes shifted rapidly through our encounters.
I saw our first kiss, our night in the pool, and our weekend escape.
In each one, I searched for evidence of Nerion’s magic affecting me, but found none.
Instead, I saw the golden glow of my parents’ enchantments growing fainter with each moment I spent in his presence.
“He was freeing me,” I whispered in realization. “Just by being near me.”
“Unintentionally, at first,” the guide nodded. “But when you two became close, his magic sought to free you from your bonds.”
Then the scene shifted to our time in Greece. I watched as Nerion showed me his true form again, as we made love on the beach. The golden glow around me was almost completely gone by then, revealing something brighter, more natural beneath. I saw my true self for the first time, emerging at last.
“So I’m not enchanted by him,” I said, feeling vindicated but also confused. “But why didn’t he say so? Why did he lie?”
The guide waved a hand, and a new scene materialized. It was Nerion alone in his dorm room, looking at a photograph. It was a family portrait of a younger Nerion with two adults, one with red hair and the other with sea-blue eyes.
“To understand his deception,” the guide said, “you must understand his fear.”
I watched as the scene changed to a beach, a similar one in Greece where we had been.
A younger Nerion, perhaps thirteen, stood at the water’s edge, watching in horror as a woman, presumably his mother, began to shimmer and dissolve before his eyes, her body turning to seafoam that was carried away by the waves.
A man reached for the disappearing foam with anguished cries, only to begin dissolving himself moments later.
“What... what’s happening to them?” I asked, my voice breaking.