CHAPTER TWENTY #2
Liora giggled. ‘Luckily for you, I do! I’ll see you both when you get back; be safe,’ she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Elowen and then Nyssa on the cheek.
Just before she pulled away from Nyssa, Liora lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ She pulled back and fled the café before Nyssa could react.
Elowen was trying – and failing – to hide a smirk as she watched their friend leave. ‘Isn’t Enchanted Thorns that smutty elf romance?’
Oh, ancestors. This was not happening. ‘I uh … I have no idea. I have to sort something out before we leave … I’ll meet you at the town square just after midnight so we’ll be flying under cover of darkness, all right? Great. See you then.’
Nyssa didn’t think she’d ever moved so fast. With a quick wave to Gwen, Torin and the other teens, she fled the café, the cool wind a balm against her flaming cheeks.
The air itself was crisp and scented with the spices coming from the town square.
At this time of year, when the nights grew dark early, the stalls that had been serving up spiced pumpkin cakes and cinnamon-infused drinks at Samhain were now offering a variety of festive treats, from spiced parsnip soups to cardamom and orange cookies, and the buildings were decorated with white, snow-painted leaves and twinkling silver lights that reminded Nyssa of the glow the pixies and fireflies emitted when they danced around the town in the dead of night.
If Nighthaven was enchanting in autumn, it was downright ethereal in winter.
Sadly, Nyssa had no time to stop and enjoy it.
She and her friends had made a promise to spend an evening in the square once Morven – and now, her final test, too – were taken care of, so Nyssa would have to wait a few more weeks to savour the wintry atmosphere.
Tightening her coat around herself, she hurried to the apothecary on the far edge of the square.
She’d been in a few times since she’d begun practising her magic again, and was familiar enough now with the owner, Gaius, that he no longer grimaced or hovered over her when she came in to shop.
He was a small, wiry man with golden-brown skin and large, rimmed glasses that always seemed perched on the tip of his narrow nose.
He had barely aged in the years that Nyssa had been away from Nighthaven.
His dark eyes were permanently creased at the corners, and his hair and trim beard were completely grey, but, due to the fact that some warlocks aged more slowly than others, Nyssa had no idea how old he actually was.
‘Afternoon, Gaius.’
A grunt was the only response, and as Nyx hopped from her bag to go and demand pets from the warlock, Nyssa busied herself with gathering the ingredients she’d need for her spell.
Frankincense, for spiritual depth, and mace, of course, for strength and protection.
Pine and ash scrapings, and finally, a fresh batch of mugwort.
Gathering them all – weighing them out and placing the required amount into small pouches – was one of her favourite pastimes.
As a child, her grandma would always let Nyssa help her purchase whatever spell ingredients she was low on when she was staying for the summer, and it gave her the same sense of purpose now as it had back then.
So much so that by the time she’d paid for her ingredients and returned to the café, Nyssa was feeling oddly confident in the ritual to come.
Thankfully, Elowen had already left, and when the last few customers cleared out, Nyssa told Gwen and Torin to go home early.
She locked the door behind them the second they left, deadbolting it and turning the sign to ‘closed’.
No one would be able to see through her enchanted windows to the circle of candles she’d set out on the floor, or the birdcage with Familiars resting inside in the centre of said circle, but Nyssa drew the curtains shut anyway, blocking out the glow from the streetlamps and the twinkling, silver lights.
Nyssa retrieved the pestle and mortar which Gwen usually used to break up larger ingredients for teas, emptied the contents of her pouches from the apothecary, and quickly ground them together.
She took the mixture and anointed each candle carefully, before lighting the candles with a swift swish of her wrist.
With just the flickering flames of the candles, it was as though Nyssa’s café had fallen into another realm, one where the shadows seemed to reach for her as she took her place in the centre of the circle.
Nyx followed after her, her tail swishing, her wide, pupil-blown eyes never drifting from Familiars.
Nyssa watched the old grandfather clock hanging near the café’s entrance, each tick, tick, tick echoing in time with her thudding heartbeat.
And when the hour hand finally hit 8 p.m. Nyssa began to chant.
‘On this night, upon this hour,
I summon forth the ancient power.’
A soft, gentle breeze blew through Nyssa’s hair despite all of the café’s doors and windows being closed, and when Nyssa breathed in, she was hit with the familiar scent of her own magic, apple-sweet like her grandmother’s, and with a bitter, cacao-dark bite that was uniquely her own.
It had been growing steadily stronger since she’d started reclaiming her power during her time in Nighthaven. Now it flooded Nyssa’s senses with renewed vigour; and as the scent grew stronger, so too did the wind blowing around her.
‘Lend your strength to the magic at play,
And help to keep this evil at bay.’
The words came out like a song she’d known her entire life, and with each word, the crystal charms she’d placed around Familiars and hung on the enchanted birdcage began to glow with an otherworldly, blue light.
The moment was so reminiscent of the failed ritual back in the coven, and yet somehow, Nyssa was not afraid that the outcome would be the same.
Not because she didn’t think failure possible – but because she knew that if she did fail, that if she fell from the impossible heights she always set herself, her friends would be there to catch her.
‘So mote it be.’
The wind her power had summoned blew out the candles in a final gust, leaving Nyssa with only the now constant glow of the crystals to see by.
The light within them was stronger than ever, and now, when Nyssa approached the birdcage, she could barely sense the press of Morven’s power beneath the warm, vibrating hum of her own magic.
Still, Nyssa waited inside the circle for another hour. And then another. And it was only when the clock finally struck midnight – when she was certain the crystals were showing no signs of dimming – that a smile spread across Nyssa’s face.
I did it.