CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The fog plaguing Nyssa’s dream was so vivid that when she woke, it took a moment for it to disperse.
But the strange, ominous feeling that it had brought with it stayed with her as she glanced outside to find the owl still lingering outside the cottage grounds.
She quickly brushed her teeth and hair, and padded downstairs with Nyx at her heels.
There was a letter waiting for her on the kitchen table, and the window above the sink, where the owl envoy from the coven had arrived each time prior, was open. Nyssa let out a small, resigned sigh, because of course her third trial would arrive now, of all times.
Nyssa was about to pick it up and see what hell Edith had assigned to her this time when she heard voices coming from outside. The first, lilting and animated, had to be Liora. And the second …
Elowen.
Nyssa’s heart sped up at the sound of the elf’s gentle voice.
Leaving the letter where it was for now, she followed the sound out on to the back porch, where she found Elowen curled up on the porch swing with a cup of steaming tea cradled in her hands.
Liora sat next to the elf, her usual cheerful expression replaced with the pinched brow of someone who’d just received bad news.
When she saw Nyssa, however, her expression soothed, and she lunged off the porch swing to throw her arms around Nyssa’s neck with a little too much vigour for so early in the morning.
‘El told me what happened.’ Liora pulled back to study Nyssa’s face, which, despite splashing with cold water, had still looked pale and sickly when Nyssa had glanced in her bathroom mirror. She tried her best to keep her expression neutral as she looked over at the owl.
‘I’ll fix it. I just need a little bit of time.’
And about three gallons of tea. There was already a mug waiting for her on the small glass table beside the swing, no doubt made by Elowen when the elf had heard her moving about. She must have seen the letter, then, and, knowing the importance of it, left it undisturbed.
A pang of affection went through Nyssa. Despite having likely been awake most of the night, Elowen looked as put together and elegant as ever as she placed her empty mug down and rose to her feet.
‘I’ve got a shift at the tavern, but I’ll meet you both at the café later tonight.’
A small nod was all Nyssa had the energy to manage.
Now that she’d slept, she was already going through spells and rituals in her mind, desperately searching for something that she could use to return the owl to its clay state.
It was no longer fighting against the wards.
In fact, the violence of the night before seemed almost forgotten; instead, the large bird had settled on an overhanging branch, tucked its head into its chest, and seemed to have actually fallen asleep.
It reminded Nyssa of a story her grandmother had told her as a child.
About the owl familiar her mother had had when she was a little girl.
She didn’t realize she’d started smiling until Liora nudged her in the side. ‘What are you smiling about?’
Nyssa’s cheeks flushed. ‘Oh, nothing, it’s just a little story my grandma used to tell me.
’ When Liora simply stared at her expectantly, like a child waiting for a bedtime story, Nyssa chuckled.
‘Her mother’s – my great-grandmother Sybil’s – familiar was this big, white owl named Nivia that used to fall asleep anywhere it could.
Grandma used to say she’d have slept while flying if she could have.
When Nivia passed, Sybil wanted to preserve her and the memories they’d made together somehow, so she created Familiars. ’
Liora’s eyes widened almost as large as the owl’s. ‘Wait, she created it?’
‘She did.’ Most of the games that were now in Nyssa’s café had been pre-existing board games that Lisabeth or Sybil had enchanted with magic.
But some, like Familiars, had been created entirely from scratch.
‘She tracked down some magical ink and drew the town of Nighthaven on a board, and then she wrote a spell to create a likeness of Nivia and all her favourite familiars. When I was younger, my grandma used that very same spell from her grimoire to create a figurine likeness of Nyx.’
A spell that, Nyssa remembered, was written down in the Hawthorne family grimoire. If she could find it, perhaps she could adapt it into something that could turn the owl back into its figurine state.
‘I know that look,’ Liora said, peering up at Nyssa’s face. ‘What are you planning?’
‘I think I might be able to combine that spell with a transfiguration enchantment to return the owl to its original form.’ Nyssa was already rising to her feet. ‘Sorry, Li, I know you came to visit, but do you mind if I get started on this?’
‘Of course not - I’m free to stay and help if you’d like? Not that you need it.’ There was a smug, knowing grin on Liora’s face. ‘I know you don’t see it, but you’ve come so far since I first met you, Nys. You can do anything you put your mind to. That owl doesn’t stand a chance!’
Nyssa wasn’t so sure, but she forced herself to smile in response.
She didn’t understand how Liora and Elowen had so much faith in her after all the mistakes she’d made so far; the incident in her café had been one thing, but bringing Morven here?
Releasing some sort of enchanted killer-owl in an attempt to trap him?
They were both things that put not just them but all of Nighthaven in danger.
Nyssa didn’t know what she’d done to earn their trust, but as she climbed the stairs of her cottage to the attic with Liora at her side, she was sure of one thing: she was going to do everything she could to keep it.
After a morning of searching and penning a variety of adaptations of her great-grandmother’s spell, Nyssa had successfully managed to come up with something she was (mostly) certain would work.
Liora had sat beside her while she worked, providing fresh cups of tea and fetching various books as Nyssa called for them.
Now, with the adapted spell and the ingredients they’d need at their disposal, the two of them left the honey-warm glow of the cottage and made their way down the cobblestone garden path.
The sky above was alight with the soft, buttery light of a late-autumn afternoon, and the crisp, orange leaves on the trees surrounding the grounds looked as if they were glowing beneath it.
The owl was no longer sleeping; instead, it was perched on the same branch as before, eyes wide and watching as Nyssa and Liora approached.
As they moved closer, it screeched in warning, which sent a spark of fear through Nyssa as she remembered how vicious the attack the night before had been.
But she took a deep breath and kept moving forwards.
The owl’s feathers rustled as they came to a stop at the garden wall, its piercing gaze shifting between Liora and Nyssa.
Liora, who had gone to retrieve her lyre earlier that afternoon, began to pluck at a few strings, each note gentle and coaxing even through Nyssa’s earbuds.
Slowly, the owl began to settle, its feathers soothing, head cocking curiously to one side.
Once Nyssa was certain the bird wasn’t going to lunge at her, she reached up and, as quickly and gently as she could, plucked a feather from its wing.
The owl didn’t even react. Its attention was fixed on Liora, its eyes slowly inching shut. Liora shot Nyssa a triumphant grin, her fingers never wavering as they created one of the most beautiful melodies Nyssa had ever heard.
She really is incredible.
With the owl distracted, Nyssa went about drawing a circle of salt atop the wall before taking the lump of clay and a piece of string out of her coat pocket.
She tied the feather to the clay as quickly as she could, and then, satisfied the feather wouldn’t come loose, placed it in the centre of the salt circle.
‘With this string I do entwine,
I will this magic to re-align;
Return what is into what came before,
To its true form, I shall restore.’
Nyssa’s nose tingled with the tickle of her magic.
The scent was stronger now than it had been for months, the rich cacao notes making her think of warm winter evenings in front of the fire, and she breathed it in as she had her grandmother’s.
Let it fill her with warmth and comfort as she envisioned the owl above her morphing back into clay.
Slowly, her vision began to become reality: first the owl shrank, and then its sharp, taloned-feet turned to clay, followed by its wings, and then its chest and beak.
The owl didn’t try to fight the magic, and just before the clay covered its eyes, Nyssa thought she saw something like relief in their yellow depths.
Once it was done, Nyssa reached up to the branch and carefully cradled the figurine in her palm. It was still warm with magic.
‘That was amazing,’ Liora breathed. She’d stopped playing her lyre now, and was staring down at the figurine owl in awe. Nyssa couldn’t blame her; it had been pretty amazing.
They had been amazing.
Suddenly filled with the urge to pull Liora into a tight embrace, Nyssa said, ‘I should get this little one back into its box. Thank you for your help, Li. I couldn’t have done it without you.’
Not bothering to hold herself back in the same way Nyssa had, Liora embraced her with more strength than Nyssa expected from someone so petite.
‘You did great. I’ll see you at the tavern tonight – we should celebrate!’
Warmth flooded through Nyssa at the prospect, a warmth that followed her back inside as she put the owl into its box and then returned to the kitchen table.
With her magic still tingling in her fingertips and the adrenalin of what she’d just achieved running through her veins, the prospect of seeing what her third and final trial involved was far less daunting.
Nyssa made herself another cup of tea – a new blend of Gwen’s, who had taken one of her grandma’s unfinished recipes and worked on it to create a soothing chamomile, honey and ginger mix – and settled into one of the kitchen chairs.
Nyx, who had finally left the comfort of the armchair by the fireplace in the living room and followed Nyssa back into the kitchen, jumped up to sit on the chair beside her.
‘Last one before the big one,’ Nyssa said, stroking her head. ‘Let’s see what darling Edith has in store.’
Nyssa tore open the wax seal on the letter and unfolded the parchment within.
Dear Mage Hawthorne,
The coven wishes to send its congratulations to you on completion of your second trial. Details of your third trial, the trial of the Spirit, are included within this envelope. Details of your final test shall be provided should you successfully complete this trial.
Blessed be,
Edith Kelster
Interim Head Mage of The Coven of the Sacred Owl
There was a second piece of parchment in the envelope, and the ink on this one was old and faded, the detail of each letter intricately penned. It was a spell Nyssa was infinitely familiar with: The Mirror Spell.
Some of the bravado she’d gained from her triumph with the owl wavered.
The spell was an old one, used in order for a witch to be able to connect with their inner self and overcome their greatest fears.
She’d only ever cast it once before, when she’d first graduated from her coven training.
It had been difficult even then, when she’d been confident and free of the guilt that came with mistakes, but now …
Nyx pawed at her thigh, claws gently pricking through the fabric of her skirt. You can do it, her familiar seemed to say, her wide, pupil-filled eyes blinking in that slow, reassuring way they always did when Nyssa needed comfort.
Nyssa scooped her up into her arms and pressed her against her chest. ‘What would I do without you, hm?’ she asked, breathing in the scent of her and kissing the top of her head. ‘Come on, then. Let’s get this over with.’