Chapter 1 #2
My reverie broke as a frosted cupcake resting on the platter near the door gave a sudden shudder.
With a soft pop, Nutmeg appeared. She was am ember sprite born from my baker’s oven, a flicker of cherry-blossom-pink flame edged in pastel sparks.
Her glowing form wavered like a candle caught in a gentle breeze, shifting and reshaping as though she had yet to decide what shape she preferred.
Tiny embers drifted from her like falling petals, dissolving into the air before they reached the ground.
She hovered before me, amber eyes bright with curiosity and something that felt almost like mischief. A faint smile touched my lips, small but fleeting—a tiny spark of warmth inside me that had yet to be extinguished entirely.
“There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you’d wandered outside. It’s best to remain indoors during a full moon.”
Nutmeg flared brighter in response, releasing a scatter of cheerful sparks. Though she spoke no words, I understood her perfectly—a playful protest, insisting I had simply taken too long to find her in her favorite game of hide and seek.
“I’m always too busy to play when there’s baking to be done.” I gestured towards the trays lining the counters, filled to the brim with the tarts and pastries I’d spent the evening laboring over. “Did you sample the enchanted honey I used, or did it all go into the spell this time?”
Nutmeg’s flame flickered eagerly as she licked her lips, her entire form glowing warmer in clear satisfaction.
Relief, small but steady, settled in my chest. Nutmeg had always had a taste for sugar and anything sweet—drawn to them in equal measure.
I had to keep a sharp eye on her, since more than a trace of sugar triggered a reaction of manic energy, which was most unhelpful on a busy day.
I turned to step back inside, but paused, unable to resist one final glance.
Outside, the sun hovered just above the horizon, bathing the scenery in streaks of golden twilight.
The world shimmered in that fleeting moment between day and night, as though reluctant to let go.
I would never again see its glistening light dance across the rolling hills, or sparkle against the sea.
“This place was particularly lovely,” I murmured. “It will be difficult to leave behind.”
A faint stirring brushed against my chest, a twinge of longing so fleeting I wondered whether I’d imagined the emotion, mistaking it for memory rather than feeling. Nutmeg’s eyes widened, hopeful. I shook my head gently.
“You know places are one of the few things I can still feel anything for.” Though I didn’t know how much longer even that would last.
I lingered longer than I should have, lost in the surrounding landscape.
At last, Nutmeg stretched her form into a thin ribbon of flame and curled it gently around my sleeve, tugging me back towards the doorway.
I closed my map book and held it close to my heart.
I allowed her to beckon me into the haven offered within the bakery walls and shut the door behind me.
The soft click of the lock echoed in the quiet, both an ending…and a promise of whatever the full moon would bring.
I was tempted to linger by the window, but I’d already spent too much time reminiscing about this past month’s fading home and still had a long list of preparations awaiting me before I could finally rest.
I spared a quiet moment to check on Grandmother in the adjoining room.
She remained asleep beneath her patchwork quilt, silver hair spilling across her pillow while the soft rise and fall of her breathing reassured me the evening’s medicines were working.
The sight eased something tight within me before I quietly shut the door once more.
Rolling up my sleeves, I returned to work.
The bakery had to be carefully prepared before every journey beneath the full moon.
I covered the bowls of enchanted ingredients with linen cloths embroidered with protective runes now faded by flour and time.
Jars of dried herbs were secured tightly on their shelves so they wouldn’t tumble during the transition, while cooling pastries were shifted farther from the windows lest the magic disturb them.
I banked the hearthfire low until it glowed amber instead of gold and swept the counters free of scattered flour.
The familiar rhythm of chores soothed me as surely as any lullaby.
I glanced through the window periodically, noting the lightening of the sky along the horizon that signaled the imminent moonrise.
Nutmeg drifted lazily through the kitchen behind me, trailing sleepy sparks as she inspected my work with all the seriousness of a royal overseer.
“You’re welcome to help instead of supervise,” I informed her dryly while tying bundles of cinnamon sticks and star anise with twine.
Nutmeg merely spun in an indignant circle before disappearing briefly into the sugar jar. I sighed, firmly extracting her and tightening the lid.
I had just finished mixing tomorrow morning’s bread dough when the first stirrings of the magic began.
A low hum resonated through the floorboards beneath my feet, like the distant vibration of a plucked harp string.
The lantern flames flickered silver and glass jars of ingredients rattled softly on their shelves.
The full moon had risen. Moonlight spilled through the windows in pale streams, illuminating drifting flour like suspended snow.
The symbols carved into the bakery’s beams and stonework began to glow faintly beneath layers of age, silver lines threading through the building like veins of living magic.
Outside, the world blurred. The sea beyond the windows dissolved first, its dark waves smearing into streaks of silver and shadow; the rolling hills followed, stretching and twisting like streaks of paint beneath an unseen artist’s hand.
For one dizzying heartbeat, countless landscapes seemed to overlap beyond the glass—mountains crowned with snow, endless golden plains, narrow village streets glowing with lantern light, forests drenched in emerald moonlight.
Then the bakery lurched gently, as though settling after a long breath. The shelves trembled but held firm beneath their enchantments, before fading into stillness as the journey concluded.
The spell’s humming gradually softened until a peaceful silence reclaimed the bakery, leaving behind only stillness and the lingering sense of possibility that always followed the transition.
I lingered there for a moment, basking in the quiet reverence of it, as warm and familiar as I imagined companionship might feel, if I’d ever truly possessed it.
I opened my journal to a fresh page and hurried to the window.
I knew it would be best not to venture outside until the morning after the full moon’s passage, but curiosity had always survived my magic more stubbornly than most emotions.
I carefully parted the drapes for the first glimpse of our new home.
Normally moonlight revealed enough for me to gather clues about our surroundings, even in darkness, but tonight scarcely any silvery light penetrated the thick canopy overhead.
Towering trees surrounded the bakery on all sides, their branches woven so densely together they appeared to swallow the sky itself.
Beyond them stretched only shadow, without even the faintest lantern glow to hint at a distant village.
A flutter of anticipation stirred within my otherwise dormant heart.
It had been awhile since we’d settled within a forest. If I’d still been capable of worrying, I imagined I might have feared such a remote location would prove poor for business, therefore disastrous for affording Grandmother’s medicines.
But experience with various locations had taught me that a single glance of a darkened landscape revealed only the barest fragment of a setting’s story; the rest would gradually unfold in the explorations to come.
Forests often hid healing herbs in abundance; even if customers were scarce this month, I would almost certainly find what I needed for both Grandmother’s remedies and my enchanted recipes.
Nutmeg gave an approving little chirrup.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re mistaken,” I told her.
“You know perfectly well I can no longer feel optimism.” Practicality, however, had survived where many softer emotions had not.
The urge for survival was a more primal need than the ability to enjoy a beautiful flower or the pleasure of making a friend.
I made to close the curtains and await dawn’s clearer view, but movement beyond the trees caught my attention.
A dark figure stood amongst the forest shadows.
I frowned, squinting into the darkness, but the heavy canopy concealed too much for me to distinguish more than the vague silhouette of a cloaked form.
Setting my journal aside, I hurried towards the shelf lined with enchanted sweets and reached for a small glass jar of frost-mint clarity drops. The translucent candies glimmered pale blue in the moonlight. I slipped one onto my tongue.
Sharp peppermint flooded my senses, cold enough to sting.
Magic unfurled almost immediately behind my eyes, spreading in a cool rush through my mind until the darkness beyond the window sharpened into startling clarity.
Leaves separated into distinct shapes, bark textures emerged from shadow, moonlight glimmered faintly along damp branches and tangled roots…
and the figure became unmistakably human.
Tall, broad-shouldered, draped in dark fabric, with the posture of someone accustomed to moving silently through the wilderness. Not a wolf after all.
Though I still couldn’t see the mysterious intruder’s face, for a fleeting moment I was certain they were looking directly at me.