Meanwhile, a calico cat with a prominent double chin had discovered the jars of ingredients Zelda had arranged. Jango Fett methodically batted at each jar, his expression one of scientific curiosity as they toppled over.
"They's fall down good," he observed, pushing another jar to the edge.
Zelda clapped her hands, and all three cats froze momentarily. "Behave, or I'll turn your kibble into brussels sprouts again. Don't make me smite your lazy asses."
The cats exchanged glances before retreating to strategic observation points around the room.
Zelda poured the tea into two mugs and handed one to Delilah. "These aren't random incidents, Delilah. There's a pattern that reminds me of an old ritual collection method. Someone's gathering very specific magical signatures, not just valuable items."
The moment the words left Zelda's mouth, the tea in both their cups darkened from vibrant purple to pitch black.
"That's... not encouraging," Delilah said, staring into her cup.
"The tea responds to truth and danger." Zelda frowned. "I've never seen it go completely black before."
From atop a bookshelf, Fat Bastard stretched, deliberately knocking an ancient leather-bound tome to the floor. It landed with a thud, pages splaying open.
"Oopsies," Fat Bastard said, not sounding remotely apologetic.
Delilah bent to retrieve the book and froze. The open pages displayed intricate diagrams of what appeared to be paired figures standing within concentric circles. The heading read "Channeling Vessels and Paired Magical Conduits: The Resonance Phenomenon."
"Zelda," Delilah whispered, "I think your cat just solved part of the mystery."
Fat Bastard's whiskers twitched with satisfaction. "Cats is smart. Humans just slow."
Delilah traced the intricate diagrams with her finger. "These paired figures—they're connected by some kind of energy flow. It reminds me of what I saw in my vision."
"The Resonance Phenomenon," Zelda murmured, leaning over Delilah's shoulder. "It's ancient magic. Two compatible practitioners can amplify each other's abilities when working in harmony."
A loud crash from the kitchen interrupted them. Jango Fett had discovered the spice rack.
"Is making betters smells," the cat announced proudly as a cloud of cinnamon and paprika billowed into the room.
Before Zelda could respond, the entire cottage shuddered. The hanging herbs swayed violently, and the mood tea rippled in their cups. Outside, something that sounded like an out-of-tune calliope played a mangled version of "Yankee Doodle."
"What in the seven hells is that?" Delilah rushed to the window.
In Zelda's front garden, the magical plants were having a collective meltdown. The snapdragons were literally snapping, the moonflowers had bloomed despite it being midday, and the whispering willows were shouting obscenities. At the garden gate stood Mayor Grimble, his round face flushed as he battled an aggressive vine wrapping around his ankle.
Atop his head sat what could only be described as an architectural disaster—a hat shaped like the town hall, complete with miniature flags that actually waved and tiny windows that lit up.
"Your wards are attacking him," Delilah noted.
"That's not the wards," Zelda sighed. "That's just my garden expressing good taste. That hat is a crime against millinery."
They hurried outside where Mayor Grimble was now fending off a particularly determined Venus fly trap with his official clipboard.
"Miss Hart! Madame Zelda! Call off your photosynthesizing assault squad immediately!" he huffed, swatting at a hovering seed pod.
Zelda snapped her fingers, and the plants reluctantly retreated, though the snapdragons continued to grumble.
"Mayor Grimble," Zelda crossed her arms. "To what do we owe this fashion catastrophe?"
The mayor straightened his tie, which featured tiny embroidered gavels. "I come bearing official authorization." He thrust a scroll toward them. "This is officially sanctioned by the emergency magical provisions committee, which is me, wearing this hat, as of twenty minutes ago."
Fat Bastard had followed them outside and now sat watching the proceedings with judgemental eyes. "Hats man smells of fear and cheap cologne."
Mayor Grimble's eyes widened. "Did that cat just?—"
