Ara gave Juniper one more pet before she gently picked him up and set him on the floor. Two nights out of the year held a lifetime of magic, and this was one of them. As she put on a crimson cloak over her black dress, her thoughts strayed to Seren. This would be the night that solidified her understanding of what it meant to be at Calami and part of this world.
Roxie appeared in her doorway, her hood already pulled over her head despite the way errant red curls poked out of the edges. A mask of golden vines and leaves covered her face. Ara gave Juniper one final pet before pulling up her own identical hood and mask. The hallways were solemn as they descended the infinite stairs of Calami Tower. No witch would dare sully such a sacred night with laughter or talk. As the two women rounded the last curve, they linked their arms together, both buzzing with excitement. The main hall was littered with witches, all wearing the same as she was. Normally, each year would dress in their assigned color. Hatchlings wore green to symbolize new life, Nestlings like Ara and Roxie wore light blue, Fledglings navy, and Ravens black. However, tonight was not about individuality, but about what it meant to be a part of something bigger.
Ara took her place in the formation and reluctantly let go of Roxie’s arm. Part of her ached to yell Seren’s name and know her sister was among the women before her. The first year as a Hatchling was brutal and meant to test the witch in every way so that when the year ended and they became Nestlings, it was knowing that they were the best the witching world offered. She knew Seren had the talent, but whether she could fall into her role as a student kept Ara up some nights. Her sister was headstrong and stubborn in a way that made it difficult for her to give way to authority. Lady Bunce had nearly lost her mind when Seren told her she was useless after making a more effective potion to treat gout on her second attempt.
A hush descended over them as a woman with a full figure appeared at the top of the grand staircase. Ara knew that form even if her face hid beneath a mask. Headmistress Sidonia was a legend that reached far outside of Calami. Her mask, unlike the rest of theirs, was a mixture of gold and black vines symbolizing her mastery of magic.
“Tonight is one of two sacred nights for witches. Since the first witch and wizard came into being, they were each given a sacred duty which was inscribed on their very bones.”
Chills erupted all along Ara as she fought to contain the energy buzzing around her.
“Since that night, it has fallen to our sisters and now us to see that we do not fail in our duty to the land. Tonight, we celebrate the autumnal equinox as we honor the rebirth of life and welcome the respite of its labors. A time of growth and harmony that brings with it new promises and new trials. Tonight, the wizards pass us the torch of magic that ushers in a new season while paying homage to the old.”
The headmistress let silence fall over them, emphasizing the weight of the ritual they were to perform. Ara could still remember last year when she had completed the trials only to be whisked away by cloaked women and brought into this very hall, never knowing what to expect. Now she understood why they timed the trial the same day as the ritual. After fighting for their place at Calami, it was a reminder of what they were fighting for. This was even more true for her and Seren, they were unlike any of the other witches here. They were what were known as rarities. All these other witches had been born into magic, their lineage boasting some of the finest witches known to history.
Ara and Seren didn’t have a drop of magical blood in them, or if they did, it was far enough in the past that no one remembered. Ten years ago, Legionnaires had come to their village, a company of witches and wizards tasked with finding individuals such as her and her sister. She remembered the fear she felt when she first saw them pouring into their village and lining up any children from the age of eight to sixteen. Seren had only just turned eight and barely made the cutoff.
She remembered walking next to her sister, hand in hand, as they emerged from Myrkwyn forest where Seren had fled in panic. Ara hadn't seen her run, yet felt that something was wrong through their strange connection.
With the help of a Legionnaire, they’d gone into the dense wood to retrieve her. As they returned, the Legionnaires spread throughout the town square and regrouped to watch them. It’d grown late, the sky taking on a dusky gray. Arabella was exhausted and it would be a long walk home to their small farm from the heart of the village, but first, they needed to be tested.
Tracking Seren through the forest hadn’t been an easy business, and by the time they found her, the older children who’d already been checked were mostly disbursed, though a few hung back, eyeing the pair of them curiously. The witches and wizards were heavily armed and many of them bore gruesome scars. She could understand why Seren fled in fear; her imagination had always been so vast and vivid.
Tales of the Legion were legendary in how they fought in the Trinity War, offering no mercy or quarter to their enemies. Despite the ongoing war, they were expected to test between skirmishes, as unchecked magical children were a greater risk than anything. It seemed the warriors gathered here were the best witches and wizards the Legion could boast. There’d be no escaping them.
They made it to the center of the square where the others waited with cold expectancy on their faces. She felt the tremble in her sister’s fingers as the Legionnaire who’d helped her find Seren moved to stand in front of them. Astrid she was called, a woman with long white hair and a black patch over her right eye. Her remaining silver eye bore into Ara as if she could see every wrongdoing she had done in her nine years of life. She gestured and Ara held out her hands just as she’d seen other children do in the past. The witch waved her fingers over Ara’s palm, and something flared to life in her, brightening the dusk around them. It was as if the woman was coaxing out a long-dormant beast. Ara’s body was warm and alive as a small orb of light gathered in the palms of her hands, shining luminous and true.
Astrid merely raised her eyebrow and moved on to Seren. Without her touch, the orb dissipated, but the warmth and energy flowing throughout her remained. It was as if she had been asleep her whole life and was finally awake. Ara hardly understood what it all meant, but then she saw Seren, and in her hands was a magnificent orb that’s light was bright enough that Ara was forced to shield her eyes. After that day, everything and nothing changed all at once.
“Hatchlings, do not fight the magic you are about to experience. Tonight is about surrendering to the ancient magic that burns in our blood. Witches have been tasked with ushering in both the autumnal equinox and the spring equinox while our wizard counterparts have watched over the winter and summer solstices. Tonight, we remember our ancestors and the witches who have come before us.”
The headmistress descended the staircase, and a path parted to allow her through. A few of the older students urged the Hatchlings forward to follow her and soon their host was outside, the cool air wrapping around them. A breeze weaved itself through each witch as they made their way to the open field, where a large pyre took shape. Each woman filled the space until they circled it.
It felt as it had the day her magic had awakened, but a thousand times over. Her body hummed with warmth and radiated vitality. In the dark, it was impossible to tell the professors from the students. All of Calami was gathered here with the exception of Professor Atwood, who was the only wizard professor Calami had ever known. Everyone knew he left Calami immediately following the trials on the autumnal equinox and spring equinox, as it was a rite that was sacred to witches. Just as the witches had no knowledge of how the wizards brought in the solstices, no wizard could witness an equinox. It was an understanding long upheld.
A flare of golden orange light came to life a moment before it was tossed into the fire. As if it was the signal they all were waiting for, each witch brought to life their own. Ara held the orb of fire in her hands and let her magic flow into it. As she tossed it onto the pyre, she silently gave offering to the seasons. A rush of wind cascaded over them, the flames of the pyre swaying beneath its command. Ara remembered the headmistress’ command to not fight the magic and let her body sway with the wind.
This was wild magic, unclaimed and ancient. It did not wish to be fought for but to be accepted. As soon as she surrendered the air around her snapped. The magic released her and settled easily about her. She watched as a few of her classmates struggled to surrender, but eventually, the last witch gave in, and the air vibrated with what could have been drums if Ara hadn’t understood the wild magic.
Everything seemed to happen at once as each witch called the element of fire to them, and each witch turned to the next, a thread formed between them. Connecting them to the world around them and to every witch in Lynoria who welcomed the new season. The drums thrummed in Ara, urging her body to move to their rhythm. She followed the call and watched in awe as the balls of fire were elevated into the air above them. The string connecting them all continued to weave throughout them as if it were part of every dip and reach of the witches that moved to the magic’s call.
Something in her urged her closer and closer to the edge. A siren’s song. Every step and movement was a call to find her missing piece, and as she worked through the throng of women, she settled on one. One whose connection was amplified by the magic surrounding them. Ara took her place next to the dancing witch and a peaceful feeling of rightness settled over her. Together they danced in unison, each upstroke of their arms urging the floating orbs to continue their own dance, all while the heat of the fire warmed and caressed them.
What could have been minutes or hours passed until the drums faded and the magic settled back into the earth, content to lie til the winter solstice. The sound of chatter broke the trance the magic had over her and she pulled back her hood and wiped at beads of sweat. The light of the fire illuminated those around her.
“That was even better than last year, Roxie. There was something about knowing what to expect and understanding it that- I don’t even have words,” Ara grinned at her friend, who still had her hood and mask on.
Silence stretched between them, and Ara narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Roxie?”
The witch pulled back her hood, and Ara snapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. She had been sure the connection the magic sought was the one she felt with her best friend and the bond that they shared, but she had been mistaken. As the witch undid her mask, Ara stared at her little sister. Seren was as she remembered her and yet entirely different. Her dark black hair rested in waves down her back and her dark eyes pierced into Ara.
“Arabella,” she said, her voice cold.
Ara recovered enough to remember who she was and held out her arms and stepped forward. Seren took a step back as if she were poisoned.
A chill ran down Ara’s spine, “Renny, what is it?”
“Don’t call me that,” Seren growled.
