“Later,” I promise the forest. “I’ll write it all down later, I’ll write everything you want so long as you keep feeding me stories. But right now, I’m looking for a witch.”
Where do we go now?I close my eyes.Which way?I echo this question down the chain of my magic. The words reverberate as if spreading through deep space, and I feel an intrinsic pull to my left.
I turn us.
The magic tugs left again.
“This way.”
And then we see it—a large, lumbering shape, unmistakably a bear, but—
But the magic doesn’t stop. It keeps tugging leftward, insistent.I already found the bear! You can leave me alone now.
The magic shimmers.This way, this way.
Morgan and I revolve in circles, but no matter which way we’re pointing, magic keeps demanding me to go…
I look left, into Morgan’s face. Realization hits.
“Are you all right?” he asks, brow furrowed in concern.
Love magic, Grandma once said,hangs in Moonville’s trees, swims in our rivers. A romantic love grown in Moonville is stronger than anywhere else, and if you’re here in near proximity to your One True Love, magic will physically redirect your paths so that they continue to cross. It will make your love burn forever, as bright and true in your fiftieth year together as it did your first.
“It’s you,” I whisper.
Morgan cups my face in his hands. “Zelda, you’re scaring me. Why are you looking at me like that?”
Him, magic thrums, urging me closer. I follow the sunlit path, and Morgan opens his arms to let me in.
Magic takes me to Morgan. He is myWhere do we go now?
He is myWhich way?
“I think…” My heart thunders, head spinning. “I think I love you.”
His arms slowly drop to his sides, stunned as if I’ve struck him. “Well, Zelda, I love you right back.”
I want to sayAre you serious? Do you mean it?
But I don’t. I wouldn’t dare question his sincerity, because of course he means it. Whereas I have resting murder face, Morgan has resting I’m-in-love-with-you face. This man is impossible. Frustrating. Overwhelming, at times. But my heart still points to his and sings, “That one.”
I move to kiss him, but his gaze shoots over my shoulder and widens. “Look.”
Hidden behind a drapery of ivy is the mouth of a cave. Leading up to it are soft imprints in the mud. Bear tracks.
“This must be her lair!” I loud-whisper. “We did it!”
He jumps up and down, joyful but endeavoring to keep it quiet. “It’s happening. It’s actuallyhappening. I thought the cave and the lair were two separate places on the map? Guess we were wrong!”
I take a step toward the cave, but Morgan grips my shoulder. His fingers briefly tighten, then release. “Wait.”
I look to him in question.
“We’ve found the lair,” he tells me, stating the obvious. “You know what happens next.”
I jerk my chin toward the entrance. “Yeah. We go in.”
Morgan bites his lip. “She’ll make us forget everything to do with finding this place. How much memory will she scoop out? Does the erasure start the moment weseethe lair, or the moment we’reatthe lair?”
