Chapter 17 #2
“No! I just figured with me being generally despised, and after what happened with Dr. Thorne, they’d assign someone more...”
“More what?”
“I don’t know. More official? Less... you?”
He pegs me with a look. “I’m more than qualified to teach novice magic.” He places the clay pot between us. “This will be your first basic magic class. We’ll start with the power of the elements, intention, and control.”
My stomach tightens. “I can’t believe I’m six years behind everyone my age.”
“That’s irrelevant.” His tone softens slightly. “Magic isn’t a race. Power comes from bloodline, sure, but it also comes from focus and connection. You are on your journey, not theirs.”
I nod, trying to push away my anxiety.
“Let’s begin with some Wiccan tenets.” Wylder straightens his posture. “‘An it harm none, do what ye wilt.’ The essence of that teaching is simple—your magic is yours to command, but you bear responsibility for its effects.”
“Like a magical version of ‘with great power comes great responsibility’?” I ask.
His brow furrows. “If that Spider-Man reference helps you remember, then yes.” He continues, explaining more principles about balance, intention, and respect for natural forces.
After covering the basics, he gestures to the items on the table. “All witches can affect the five basic elements of the pentacle, but affinities give us a much greater depth of power with specific elements.”
“Like your plant magic.”
He nods. “Affinity isn’t determined by heredity but by your natural disposition and innate strengths. The exercises we’re starting with today, focus on respecting and controlling the four physical elements: Earth, Air, Fire, and Water.”
He hands me a small seed packet. “We’re going to grow a plant for your room.”
I open the packet, revealing tiny brown seeds. “What are these?”
“Moonflowers. They bloom at night. I thought they were appropriate for your situation.” He pushes the container of soil toward me. “First, earth. The foundation, the nurturer, the stable element that grounds us.”
I pour soil into the pot while Wylder explains the life-giving properties of earth. Then, he does something that makes me catch my breath. He places his palm over the soil, and a soft green glow emanates from his hand. When he removes it, the soil looks richer, darker.
“What did you do?”
“Encouraged the microorganisms.” His eyes gleam with quiet pride. “Plant affinity has its perks.”
“That was beautiful,” I say honestly.
He looks away, clearing his throat. “Now, poke a hole to the depth of your first knuckle, place a seed in the center, and cover it lightly.”
I do as instructed, burying the tiny seed beneath the enriched soil.
“Next, water.” He passes me the small jar. “Water flows, adapts, nurtures. It’s the element of emotion and intuition.”
I sprinkle water over the soil as he guides me through focusing my intention, imagining life flowing from the water into the seed. To my surprise, the water glistens slightly as it absorbs into the soil.
“Did I just—?”
“A small success,” he confirms. “Now, air.”
He extends his hand, palm up, and a gentle breeze swirls around us, lifting strands of my hair. “Air carries potential—pollen, seeds, ideas. It’s the element of intellect and communication.”
I mimic his gesture, concentrating on feeling the air against my skin. For a second, I feel something respond. It’s the faintest stirring of a breeze, and it definitely didn’t come from outside our enclosed space.
“Good,” Wylder says.
I feel ridiculously proud, even knowing this is probably the magical skill level for a ten-year-old.
“Finally, fire.” He cups his hands together, and a tiny flame appears between his palms. “The transformative power of the sun, of passion and change.”
The flame dances, reflecting in his green eyes, before he extinguishes it with the closing of his hands.
“Your turn.”
I cup my hands as he did, focusing on heat and light. Nothing happens.
“Visualize it,” he coaches. “Feel the warmth building between your palms.”
I close my eyes, concentrating harder. A tingling sensation spreads through my fingers, and when I peek, there’s the faintest reddish glow between my palms.
“I did it!” The glow immediately vanishes with my excitement.
“Controlled focus,” Wylder reminds me, but there’s approval in his voice.
“Wait, what about spirit?” I ask. “Isn’t spirit the fifth point of the pentacle?”
His expression grows serious. “Yes, but we’re not working with that yet. Spirit is your natural affinity, and it’s in flux at the moment. I want you to have some understanding of control before we delve into spirit work.”
“Is that why my vision is weird, and I feel all jittery?”
“Partly.” He gestures to my iPad. “Let’s move on. Pull that out.”
I place the tablet on the table between us.
“One of the most dangerous things you’ll face is losing control as your powers awaken,” he explains, taking the stylus. “This is a simple sigil taught to young witches for centering.”
He draws a fluid symbol on the screen. Circles and lines flow into each other in a pattern that somehow feels calming simply to look at.
“It’s an intricate symbol and takes practice. Drawing it will help focus your intention and ground excess energy.” He hands me the stylus. “Now you try.”
I trace the pattern carefully, and as I complete the last line, I feel a subtle shift. It’s like my thoughts are organizing themselves. “That’s weird. A good kind of weird.”
“Now try to draw it without the template.”
I draw the sigil again, focusing on the meaning behind each stroke. When I finish, the calming effect is stronger.
“Well done,” Wylder says. “Let’s try one more.” He demonstrates another symbol, explaining that it helps with emotional balance.
As I practice this second sigil, I feel the day’s tension slowly unwinding. My hand moves more confidently across the screen, and when I look up, I catch Wylder watching me with an unreadable expression.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He collects the stylus. “You’re a quick study. Practice these daily. They’ll help you maintain control as your powers grow. And if you find yourself in a moment of panic, draw them with the same focus you just showed and they should help.”
I nod, feeling a strange mix of pride and apprehension. This is just the beginning, and I’m already exhausted.
“That’s enough for today,” Wylder says, standing.
I glance down at my pot. “What about my plant? I didn’t make it grow.”
He chuckles. “Not on day one, no. Practice your sigils for focusing your intention and emotions, and we’ll work on growing your plant once your powers settle from today’s unbinding.
The last thing we want is for you to tap into the rush of your powers and give it a job to do before you know how to control it. ”
Okay, I suppose that makes sense.
“Keep your plant in your room. Consider it your first magical responsibility.”