CHAPTER FOUR
A week later, on a crisp, September evening, Nyssa received another letter from the coven.
It appeared on her porch alongside a large, rather bland-looking box, and despite the twist of anxiety in her stomach at the sight of her coven’s owl feather sigil, Nyssa’s intrigue had her tearing the letter open right away.
Mage Hawthorne,
After careful consideration, The Coven of the Sacred Owl has decided to amend the terms of your suspension.
In order to prove yourself capable of returning to our ranks, we require you to partake in three magical trials – a trial of the Mind, a trial of the Body, and a trial of the Spirit.
The details of these will be sent individually, via owl.
We have provided you with an enchanted candelabra that must be present when you partake in each task. If you complete the task to a satisfactory level, the corresponding candle shall alight, and the coven shall be notified.
Please note that all three trials must be completed in order to pass.
A single failure shall result in permanent expulsion from The Coven of the Sacred Owl.
Please also note that completion of these trials will allow your re-entry into the coven, but does not guarantee that you will be permitted to reclaim the title of Head Mage.
Blessed be,
Edith Kelster
Interim Head Mage of The Coven of the Sacred Owl
Nyssa reread the letter three times before the words truly sank in.
Three trials. That was all that stood between her and returning to the coven.
But that final line, stating so blandly that she might not be able to reclaim the title of head mage, had her stomach turning sour.
She’d worked herself to the bone to get there in the first place, faced every task and test they’d thrown her way during initiation and training.
And now she’d have to undergo yet more trials, just to prove she was worthy of the title she’d already earned.
She should have felt angry, insulted even, at Edith’s letter.
So why did she feel so afraid?
Because you know you’ll fail, her inner voice mocked, bringing with it the memory of Noah’s bulging eyes, of the cauldron’s black, inky depths. Nyssa shivered in the chilly autumn air, wrapping her arms around herself as she willed the voice to shut up.
In the past, Nyssa would have been able to ignore that inner voice, but today … She’d been back in Nighthaven for just over a week now, and she still hadn’t been able to bring herself to do any magic.
She’d considered it, especially when she’d realized just how long it was going to take her to clean up her grandmother’s cottage without a single charm or enchantment.
But in the end, the thought of causing some sort of disaster – such as accidentally burning the cottage to the ground or blasting a hole through the thatched roof – had been worse than the thought of doing it all by hand.
And so she’d gotten to work, starting from the living room and making her way through the house until there was a large pile of old clothing, toys and various other bits and bobs to take to the town’s donation hub. The entire place felt lighter.
Nyssa had felt lighter, too. Until now.
She was still staring at the box when Liora appeared on her porch. Nyssa had been so lost in her own head she hadn’t even noticed the bard coming down the garden path.
‘Gooood evening,’ Liora beamed. Then she took one look at Nyssa’s expression, arched a brow, and said, ‘Or … maybe not? Everything all right?’ She glanced down at the box, which, thankfully, did not bear The Coven of the Sacred Owl’s infamous sigil.
Nyssa cleared her throat and put on her best ‘head mage’ smile. ‘Everything’s fine. Just an unexpected delivery I need to find room for.’ She picked up the box. ‘Come on in.’
She retreated into the kitchen and placed the offending box on the table before turning her attention back to Liora. The bard was watching her carefully, clearly not convinced that Nyssa was telling the truth.
Thankfully, Nyx chose that moment to appear in the kitchen doorway. She let out a pleased chirp at the sight of Liora, immediately trotting towards her with her tail raised. ‘Oh, hello, precious girl.’
Nyx was cradled in Liora’s arms a second later, and Nyssa rolled her eyes at how easily her powerful familiar softened in Liora’s presence. ‘We’ve barely been here for a week, and she’s got you enamoured already.’
‘Of course she has, she’s perfect.’ Liora kissed Nyx on top of her head and placed her back down on the floor. ‘I just came by to make sure you’re still coming tonight? It should be pretty quiet, just a few regulars and the barkeep.’
If Nyssa were honest, the last thing she wanted to do was socialize at a tavern, even if it was just with a small crowd. But if she declined, there was no way Liora wouldn’t pester her until she admitted what was wrong.
‘You’re the infamous bard “Liora the Lark”!’ She fake grinned. ‘Of course I’m coming.’
‘Ugh, please don’t call me that …’ Liora grimaced. She’d revealed the nickname – and her hatred of it – to Nyssa on their second day spent together, and Nyssa had taken great pleasure in teasing her with it ever since Liora had laughed at her particular passion for smutty elf-romance novels.
‘I won’t, if you agree to give Enchanted Thorns a try,’ Nyssa retorted.
‘Fine, but if I can never look Gwen in the face again, it’ll be your fault.’
Nyssa simply grinned in triumph and plodded back into her living room, where the first book in the series was slotted into one of her grandmother’s many bookshelves.
She hadn’t had time to reread it - or anything fictional - in far too long, and the sight of it made her feel oddly nostalgic.
Once back in the kitchen, she offered it to Liora as if it were a fragile, priceless treasure.
‘Now, this is one of my most prized possessions – if you return it to me with a bent spine or damaged pages, you will suffer my wrath.’
Nyx let out a loud mew! in support. Liora rolled her eyes and grabbed the book from her, hugging it to her chest as if it were magical contraband. ‘Tell no one of this.’
‘I won’t …’ Nyssa smirked, tucking her feet into her worn leather boots.
She’d never been to a tavern performance before, and wasn’t entirely sure what the dress code was supposed to be, so she’d opted for a long, olive-green skirt, her brown boots, and a knitted dark brown jumper with billowing sleeves.
It was a far cry from her head mage robes, and yet somehow, she felt more like herself than she had in a long time.
‘I’d forgotten how amazing Lisabeth’s tea blends smell.’ Liora let out a satisfied sigh as she breathed in the lingering scent of the tea Nyssa had brewed earlier. ‘Oh, what are these?’
Nyssa looked up from her now-laced-up boots to find Liora looking at the stack of board games she’d found in her childhood closet earlier that day. The one Liora was now pulling from the pile – a game called Familiars – had once been Nyssa’s favourite.
As a child, she’d been obsessed with the game, which her great-grandmother Sybil had made.
Sybil had modelled the board on Nighthaven itself, its twisting streets and best-known landmarks rendered in miniature.
Each player had to select a familiar to represent them and undertake quests around the game-version of the town.
Nyssa had always chosen to play as the raven, until Lisabeth had added a tiny cat, modelled on Nyx, after Nyssa had brought home her familiar.
She had passed endless hours immersed in the game, searching mini-Nighthaven for hidden treasure and forgotten magic.
It was only when she began having nightmares in which the figurines were real people trapped in clay-made-familiar forms that her grandmother had stopped letting her play with it unsupervised.
‘They were my grandma’s,’ Nyssa said. ‘They’re all enchanted, and grandma and I would play most weekends when I came to stay during the summer.
’ They were some of Nyssa’s fondest memories, and even though she had little use for them any more, she hadn’t yet been able to bring herself to put them in her ‘to donate’ pile.
‘They’re all enchanted?’ Liora stared at the large pile with her wide, unblinking eyes.
‘In that case, we absolutely have to play them some time. I bet Elowen and Alaric would love them! You’ll meet them tonight, too – oh!
Speaking of tonight …’ Liora began rummaging around in her satchel and produced a small, oval-shaped purple case.
‘I got you these earbuds for my performance. Can’t have you falling under my spell. ’
Nyssa’s brow furrowed. ‘I thought I was the witch in this relationship.’
Liora let out a little laugh, one Nyssa had noticed she tended to emit when she was nervous.
‘Oh, you are, don’t worry! It’s just my lyre, it’s kind of enchanted.
I don’t use it for anything bad!’ Liora hurried to add.
‘It just helps to keep my audience’s attention a bit, or to calm a rowdy crowd, you know?
If you come and listen more frequently, I’ll teach you some tips to shield against it.
My pops told me it can be used to enhance another person’s magic, and that it holds a lot of untapped power of its own, but …
well, I guess if it does, I’m not good enough to harness it … ’
Liora trailed off, her eyes going slightly foggy. There was definitely a past there she hadn’t yet told Nyssa about, one that conjured in the bard the same sort of heaviness that came over Nyssa whenever she thought of the last argument she’d had with her grandma.
‘I have no doubt you’re good enough,’ Nyssa said perhaps a little too forcefully. ‘Sometimes, power is about intentions. Maybe yours are too good for whatever magic lurks in your lyre. Besides, sometimes too much power is a bad thing.’