Forgotten Magic

Colourful smoke could once again be seen puffing gently out of the chimney from the small cottage in the woods. It was a little after midnight, and Leaf was once again trying to crack a potion from her grimoire.

The book was ancient, a family heirloom passed down over the centuries, until it had the misfortune of being gifted to her on her 13th birthday. Under the clear skies and full moon, her coven had bestowed the book to her, without knowing the consequences.

Leaf wasn’t an ordinary witch. She had no natural talent whatsoever. The coven, a group of 12 other witches, had taken Leaf in when they found her hiding in a fallen tree trunk after a ferocious battle between her grandmother, a most powerful witch, and a demon summoned by a warlock. They assumed, rather incorrectly, that any child related to such a formidable and talented witch would possess the same powers. They ended up with Leaf.

Leaf worked incredibly hard at her practice. After receiving the book she spent each night outside under the stars with a small oil lamp for company pouring over its pages. Each spell, potion, tincture or charm she tried however usually ended in disaster. Singed eyebrows here, a missing limb, not unrecoverable, there. Eventually the coven got tired of her lack of ability and cast her out of their circle. They had no place for someone who could accidentally blow them up while casting protections. 

The cottage was a shell when she found it. A crumbling relic of a bygone era now more ivy than stone. It suited her just fine. The puffs of blue green smoke flittered away gently in the soft breeze as Leaf squinted at the pages in the dull light. The cauldron bubbled and popped, a slight fizz to its surface. 

“Ah!” She cried with a sudden realisation, running to the cupboard and hurriedly searching its contents. Her faithful Great Dane, Perro, tilted his head to one side, tongue lolling lazily out of his mouth as he watched her shuffle back to the cauldron. 

“I think I’ve got it Perro. All we need is a pinch of lavender and…” she gently sprinkled the fragrant purple petals into the still fizzing liquid. The bang echoed around the clearing, startling sleeping birds from their nests with agitated cries. 

Wiping the soot away from her face, Leaf slumped down onto the stone floor and sighed. Perro trotted over to her and did the same, head still to one side. She ruffled his head and looked deep into his eyes. “One day Perro. One day I promise I’ll crack this.” The dog snorted gently and laid his head in her lap.

She looked across to the mantle above the fire where the sketch of her grandmother smiled back at her. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she was quick to wipe it away with a soot covered hand. “I’ve got to keep trying” She said determinedly, to no-one in particular. Perro gave a supportive ‘woof’, causing his tongue to once again fall out of his mouth. 

Earlier that week, Leaf had been experimenting with a range of more complicated spells than usual. It had taken her years but her recent success at casting protective charms with no consequences around the cottage, save for a sentient broomstick that frantically swept the front step each morning and showed sure signs of anxiety, had left her feeling more confident than ever that the location spell would work. Location spells, she learnt from the grimoire, were no mean feat. The spells required care, precision, accuracy, and above all connection to the earth. The one thing Leaf was proud of was the latter. She understood the waxing and waning of the moon, and its impact on the plants and animals surrounding her. She had carefully cultivated a garden filled with healing herbs and plants that thrived in her care. Despite having no natural talent at spell-work, she certainly was in tune with nature. 

Sadly, when it came to her first and so far only attempt at the location spell, this connection was not enough. After a minor explosion in the kitchen, Leaf found herself in a world sapped of its colour, save for the colour of magic. The flowers in various vases and jars around the kitchen were varying shades of dull grey. Perro was no longer chocolate brown. Her eyes were no longer green. 

She had expected the coven to arrive shortly after the incident, bearing nothing but loud, aggressive words and perhaps flaming torches and pitchforks to drive this non-magical being out of their sacred woods. But none came. In fact, Leaf had seen no other living soul since the smoke cleared and the dust settled, save for Perro. 

Calling it a night, she carefully put out the fire below the cauldron, closed the windows, and lightly patted the broomstick, who was snoring gently under what was once a vibrant red tartan blanket by the door. Blowing out the final candle, she trudged upstairs with Perro plodding faithfully behind her. Tomorrow is a new day, she thought. Tomorrow, I can do this.

Her sleep was interrupted in the early hours of the morning. Dawn had not yet broken, and a soft mist floated across the greying plants in the garden. Something was outside. No sound had been made. No crinkle of stones under boots. No sound of breath. Yet, Leaf felt in her gut that something wasn’t quite right. She lay under the patchwork blanket for a moment, holding her breath and desperately straining to hear anything, just one solitary sound. But nothing came. The feeling however, grew more intense. Something was outside. As quietly as she could, Leaf got out of bed, pulled on her bear-like slippers and softly tiptoed her way to the bedroom door. The ancient wood creaked and groaned as she screwed up her face, hoping that whatever the something was, it hadn’t heard her. But again, no sound could be heard anywhere. Making her way downstairs, Leaf began to hear the soft snoring of the broomstick drifting through the hall. Something was outside. Something was outside. Her heart was pounding in her chest and by the time she reached the bottom step, she was covered in a cold sweat that made her shiver. 

Peering around the doorway, she was relieved to see that the kitchen and living room were exactly as she left them when she went to bed. She was about to turn around and go back to bed for a few more hours when a soft thump made her freeze. The thump came from the middle of the room. For a moment she didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. Silence had once again filled the room. Turning slowly, hands clenched in terror, Leaf’s gaze fell upon a rectangular bundle resting on the cold stone. She glanced around to check the coast was clear, before slowly making her way towards the shape, her bear slippers padding lightly on the floor. Crouching down, Leaf studied the object before picking it up, a bewildered look on her face. It was the grimoire. How had it got to the middle of the room? She thought, looking around her to see if anything else was out of place. It was on the bookshelf last night.

The ancient book had only been in her hands for a moment before it burst open, causing her to drop it and fall back onto the ground. The book hovered in mid air, its pages flicking furiously. All of the candles in the kitchen and the small living room burst into light as silvery sparks began to fly out of the book. The book suddenly stopped. Open roughly halfway through, it gently lowered itself back to the floor, the occasional spark still fluttering out. 

Leaf cautiously approached the book on her hands and knees, peering into its contents. The grimoire, whilst being an ancient tome of magical spells and workings, was, and had always been, incomplete. Only the first half of the book was filled with writing and drawing and sigils, the rest was completely blank save for some long forgotten marks and smudges. Leaf knew this was the case. She had spent months, if not years pouring over every inch of the book. The rest should be blank. But now, now the page was filled with swirling sigils and twisted drawings of plants appearing like they were on fire. A simple message sat in the centre;

I never left

Leaf’s eyes widened in a combination of fear, excitement, panic and utter shock. She dropped the book with a bang and sat in the silence. After a moment, the sounds of Perro coming down the uneven stairs to explore the banging could be heard. Leaf didn’t move a muscle when he sat down beside her, tongue lolling out and head to one side. He gently placed a paw on her knee and softly snorted. Her trance was broken and Leaf screwed up her eyes, shook her head and brought herself back to the present by scratching Perro under the chin.

“That’s her handwriting, Perro.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper. “That’s hers.” This new page, filled with mysterious text, none of which was instantly translatable was indeed in the same hand as the last few pages of the book, as was the unexpected message in the centre. I never left. Written by her grandmother.

In a hurry, Leaf rushed upstairs to throw on what was once a long sweeping black dress covered in golden moons and stars and an incredibly chunky and slightly moth-eaten black cardigan, her comfiest hobnail boots and swept her hair back with what she was convinced was a green velvet ribbon, and was digging about under the bed when Perro meandered back in.

Wiggling her way back out, she sat cross-legged on the bedroom floor with an old wooden box in front of her. The box was made from mahogany, lacquered to a reflective shine, and finished with sparkling brass feet and a beautiful yet simple lock. Unfastening the ribbon around her neck that held a tiny key, she placed it in the lock, giving way with a click. The old tones from the music box creaked into life. Just a note or two since the box was not fully wound. It’s gentle twinkling notes felt both comforting and confusing at the same time. Inside the box were scraps of paper covered in more sigils, crystal chips and pieces of long forgotten dried herbs, pressed flowers and…

“Got it!” Leaf cried triumphantly. In her hands she held a tiny notebook. Bound in leather like the grimoire downstairs, this tiny book was fastened with a ribbon and was handmade, each additional page carefully stitched to the one before. Leaf hadn’t opened this book in years and its contents had until a moment ago been long forgotten. She patted the wooden floorboards next to her, inviting Perro to sit as she read aloud the last entry.

“October 31st. If you are reading this then I may be dead. Or maybe not. I’m unsure. The tealeaves think death, the cards say alive. The plants say simply somewhere. You must remember Leaf my child, you have the power to set things right. You are a powerful witch, you just haven’t found your spark yet. I leave tonight to try to reason with Azazel, however I fear he may be too far gone for mere words. The land is changing. He has summoned something from the depths of hell that will wreak havoc on our world I am sure of it. But take heed. I have cast a spell on our families grimoire. When the time is right, dead or not, I will call for you through its pages. Follow the sigils. Look for the signs. Find me, and help me set things right. The sky is darkening my child, I must go. You know I love you very much.”

A tear ran down her face as she read the last sentence, running her fingers over the page. Sighing determinedly, Leaf got to her feet and after securing the book and closing the box, she threw them both into a weather-worn satchel alongside a few clothes before running down the stairs to grab the grimoire and a travelling herb kit. Pulling on a large cloak that could easily double as a blanket, she opened the grimoire to the centre and concentrated hard on what her mind told her was the first sigil. Translating it in her head, she knew where to go. Whistling for Perro to join her and grasping the startled broomstick in her hand, Leaf stood in front of the old oak door for a moment, looking back at her little cottage, grey and dull in the colourless morning light. 

And with that, she took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped out into the chilly night air.