“Look into the future, with this you may –”Hazel tossed the Mirrorleaf into the cauldron’s bubbling surface as she twirled around. The potion swallowed it up greedily, expelling a puff of billowing smoke.
Hazel’s song turned into an indistinguishable language, slipping between murmurs and shouts. The music came from no orchestra, no strings, no drums. It rippled out from the magic itself, from the center of Hazel’s narrow chest. Maggie staggered backward, the magic knocking into her suddenly. Peter remained stiff at her side, keeping himself close to her. Hazel was already reaching for the next ingredient, the magic pulling an elated smile across her face.
Maggie paused, caught up by the witch’s carefree expression for a moment. The magic was not dangerous at all, or a thing to be feared. She grew up in a world where it was ridiculed, deemed otherworldly, ruled to be illegal. Women called witches were not friendly, they were not good, they were not kind. Their magic came from a dark place, but it wasn’t like that at all. The longer Maggie witnessed Hazel’s enigmatic spell, the more she realized how pure magic really was. It came from the air, it came from the water, it came from the words that filled the air, it came from the ringing music. It was all around them, all within them.
For the first time in Maggie’s long life, she felt as though she understood something.
Truly, undoubtedly, understood something.
“Chase the nymph through the fields,”Hazel’s song reached its pique, her voice never straining. She danced around Peter, pulling a smile out of his strained expression. “Pluck a veil from her shoulders, watch yourself disappear!”
Peter rested the long silvery veil across Hazel’s arms as she passed him by, the long tendrils of fabric flowing around her like a magical cape. The witch twirled around the cauldron a few more times, wordless music curling out from between her lips, before she let the veil fall into the cauldron’s mouth. The potion within gobbled the artifact up and the smoke faded into a lighter color, one that Maggie thought she hadn’t seen before.
Hazel was already dipping back around, riding on the momentum to collect the final ingredient for their pivotal spell. “Plucked from our island’s deepest riches,” she sang, “comes our final key, the eye of which sees all!”
Maggie already had the carved bronze eye outstretched when Hazel came by her. The exchange brought another wave of power to Hazel’s song, and she was almost carried the rest of the way by the music. She danced around the cauldron rapidly, no more words coming from her mouth. There was simply the beating drum, the noise sharp and poignant, ringing through the hair and matching Maggie’s steady heartbeat. Beside her, Peter reached, grabbing onto her hand and giving her a firm squeeze.
For the first time, Maggie was not the one who was afraid.
Hazel threw her hands over her head as she threw the eye into the cauldron. The spell spouted and spewed before it settled, the flames below coming to a quiet halt. A gentle smell slipped through the air, like fresh linens that were cleaned only recently. The salt-tinged breeze filled the room as a delicate pink color spread across the cauldron’s calm surface.
With the music fading away, Hazel stepped closer to the cauldron, using her long ladle to mix the contents slowly. The witch retrieved a bottle with a long spout and filled it with thepotion. The pink liquid glowed from within the glass bottle as Hazel corked the top, wiping the lip clean of any spilled droplets. Stepping away from the cauldron, Hazel approached them with a calm smile, no longer filled with the energy of the spell.
“It’s ready,” she said. Hazel rested the bottle in Peter’s outstretched hands.
“You’ve been a lifesaver,” he exclaimed. “Honestly, Hazel. You’re welcome at the treehouse anytime.”
Maggie gave the witch a warm smile. “We couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
The old woman’s face scrunched up slightly before she nodded in agreement, her thin lips squeezed shut.
Peter turned, already heading for the door. Maggie followed for a few steps, but paused. Something tugged at her chest, a tether that had tied itself to her heart since meeting Mr. Reader. The memory he unlocked never once left her, no matter how much time had elapsed since then. It was always as if she was seeing it for the first time. And then, as Hazel conducted her whimsical spell, Maggie felt it tighten and snap. A part of her almost believed that the magic of Neverland was trying to tell her something, no matter how foolish it sounded.
“Magpie?” Peter called out from the door.
She held up a finger. “I’ll be right there.”
Peter waited at the threshold before he nodded, and slipped out the front door.
Turning back around, Maggie coursed back into the living room. Hazel had returned to her cauldron, already working on cleaning up her recent spell. Energy seemed to bounce around her, despite the music no longer playing. Peter had called her a powerful witch, so she didn’t imagine anything else.
“Could I ask you something?” Maggie asked.
Hazel barely flinched, though her back was facing her. “Of course, child.”
“When Peter and I went to collect the carved bronze eye, I had to exchange a memory for it,” Maggie explained, taking small steps forward. “The goblin, Mr. Reader, h-he had a crystal ball, and pulled the memory out of my head. A memory I didn’t even know existed. There was a raging sea, a storm, and…and a crying baby.”
Maggie stepped around the cauldron, now facing her.
Wide, brown eyes stared back at her. Hazel gulped, the cauldron quietly simmering between them. A thousand words looked to be trapped behind the witch’s eyes, but she didn’t dare utter a thing. She only stared, their contact just as powerful as the magic itself. Maggie could hardly find the words to explain what was happening. Was it because Hazel was a witch, and Maggie had some sort of connection to magic, that she felt so bound to this random woman? Or was there something deeper, something that stretched into a past Maggie had no recollection of? Suddenly, questions Maggie never cared to spend any time ruminating over were trying to control every thought.
Where did I come from?
Who did I belong to?
Why would someone give me up?
Maggie’s lips parted.
