“For you, I suppose not.” Hazel laughed. “I have to say it is much more relaxing here compared to town. Larksridge has been on-edge lately. I rarely feel like I can hear myself think.”
Agnes drifted off in her own thoughts. “Hmm… I can imagine so,” she said after a few quiet moments. Hazel was reminded of how much she truly missed her time with Agnes. Blood relative or not, she was the closest person Hazel had to a matriarchal figure.
Hazel thought about the times Agnes had wanted to read her future, only for Hazel to gently turn her down. On a whim, she decided today was the day.
“Tea or palm?” she asked with a smirk.
“What’s that now?” confusion danced in her eyes, as though she hadn’t expected Hazel to ever give in.
“Which reading would you prefer to do today?” Hazel clarified.
“You—you’re sure?”So you can’t see the future directly, Hazel mused to herself.I’d wondered.
“I am sure. Truthfully, I don’t know why I’ve put you off on it all these years. So yes, why not?” A soft smile graced her features.
Hazel hadn’t seen Agnes so cheerful in quite some time. But there was something else. Her mood shifted, if for only a moment, before she reclaimed her usual effervescence.
“My dear, I am glad you’ve asked. But if you’re just humoring this poor old woman for the sake of it, we shouldn’t. The thing with these readings… they depend quite a lot on the energy put into them. The reader and the participant must commit fully, and the ambiance in the room must be just so.” She gestured around them. “It’s quite alright if you still aren’t ready. Someday, you will be.”
“No, ma’am. I truly want you to give me a reading. Iamready,” Hazel said with fire in her eyes.
Agnes eyed her lovingly, but with a wariness Hazel wasn’t used to. “Alright then, let me put this tea on and we can chat.”
She strode over to the hearth and checked the cauldron of stew Hazel had forgotten about. Surely by now it had burned and stuck to the bottom. Agnes took a ladle full and sampled it, remarking on how wonderful it was. But of course, an unseen enchantment kept it from burning.
What she did next was one of Hazel’s favorite tricks. She gathered her kettle and two mugs for tea from her cupboard and brought them to the table. On the way over, she whispered something to the pot, and moments later steam poured from the spout. By the time she reached the table, the tea was at the perfect temperature and ready to enjoy. Agnes poured a cup for each of them and then sat down at the table herself.
“So, tell me,” she began, “What has my sweet Hazel been up to these days?”
Hazel froze, knowing she should spill the details, but feeling woefully unprepared. As she began to speak, Agnes interjected. Hazel was grateful for the interruption… until she learned the subject.
“Any young men catching your eye?” Agnes batted her thinning eyelashes suggestively.
“Oh goodness, Agnes, can’t we talk about anything else?” Hazel begged, her cheeks warming.
“You know I may not look like much now, but once upon a time I had to scare the men away to get even a moment’s peace. Why do you think I took up witchcraft?” She whispered the last word and wiggled her fingers like she was casting a spell.
Hazel rolled her eyes. “I don’t doubt that for a second. You’re still a beautiful lady, Agnes. Everyone grows old. Not everyone does it gracefully.”
“Not without magic anyway.” She winked.
“You use magic to stay younger?” Hazel paused with the cup at her lips.
“No child, of course not.” Agnes laughed. “I don’t mess with the occult in that manner. Just cooking, cleaning, gardening. I’m a hearth witch; That’s all my spells are good for. And the occasional protective spell, warding my home from evil and anyone who wishes me or my guests harm. That sort of thing. But I don’t dabble in immortality, nor do I deal with the elements. That’s what got us all into this mess anyway, you know.”
Hazel sipped her tea and perked up at her words. She didn’t know why magic had been outlawed, only that it was considered a threat.
“You don’t know? I will have to talk to your father about that.” She sighed. “Things used to be so different. Not too long ago, if you can believe it.” She looked out the window longingly.
“What was it like?”
Agnes closed her eyes thoughtfully. Where to begin. “Such a loaded question, that one. Life was bright and full, the world was beaming with energy, and yes, like me, many folks used their enchantments to help around the house. A few, however, tampered with elemental magics, and that was where everything went downhill. It started innocently enough I suppose—simple experimentation. Then a couple of folks grew bored and bold, a dangerous combination. They messed with the weather, the growth of crops, the flow of our rivers… and well, it got out of hand. Before long, and as you might expect, that same group of witches became hungry for power, power they believed they could steal with this newfound magic.”
Hazel was listening to a fairytale. Something so far from reality it simply could not be true. Magic was prevalent? She’d always imagined it a rarity, where every now and then someone was lucky enough to be blessed with it, as though the gods had chosen them for some higher purpose. This was a new revelation, indeed.
“Do you ever look around and wonder why our lands are the way they are? So decrepit and devoid of life? When you come here, child, you see what the lands could be. My wards allow it to be so because magic feeds the land, and the land feeds the magic. It is a beautiful, synchronous cycle. The two are… symbiotic you might say.”
Hazel nodded thoughtfully, sipping the tea.
