Page 9 of Werewolves and Witches AU

Time.

Flipping the pages unleashes a waft of fragranced air, not quite stale and dusty but almost spiced, like cinnamon or nutmeg. It’s warming and somehow familiar—nostalgic maybe, except for something I’ve never known. Whatever it is, it feels right.

“Temporal magic is complicated, and is best performed by those whose Family Lines are tied to the Temple of the Moon.”

I shrug. I have no idea if my Family Line is tied to that or not, and there’s no one left to ask either. Because we’re out of time.

I chew on my bottom lip. Ray is right, shadow work and death magic are strictly forbidden, and no matter what, I don’t want to attract the attention of the Witches Council. But temporal magic isn’t forbidden… so could I try to slow down the time Ethel has left?

Is that why these books have been calling to me? All I wanted when I left Brightview Court earlier was to get to my room as fast as possible, where I’d be surrounded by the last remaining items from my Family Line, where I then lost track of time, missed dinner with Ray, and discovered a book of temporal magic.

My heart does this excited little pitter-patter thing while thoughts all fall into place around me. Time magic is trickier than most because there are lots of moving pieces—even the duration of the cast itself is a factor, but it’s not prohibited. Not monitored. Not traced.

Not traced.

It’s not traced by the Witches Council because only high-level practitioners would even consider themselves capable of chronomancy, but the spells themselves—the ingredients—they’re regular, everyday items. It’s purely the skill of the witch that transforms them.

I’m not a high-level practitioner, I didn’t even graduate from the Academy, and I don’t have a coven—or caster’s insurance—but I do have my intuition.

And really, how hard can any of this be?

4

Screw You, Caster's Insurance

Milo

I scrape my teeth over my bottom lip as I squint at the handwritten Latin on the ancient page. Latin was not my favourite lesson at school.

According to this, temporal magic has sub-categories, which makes sense, I guess. Time is… big.

Lightly, so as not to damage the pages, I run my index finger slowly under the words as I read.

A chronomancer can influence various aspects of time, from a person’s perception of time to their memory of it, from reversing time to communicating with an ancestor or descendent through time, from creating time loops to altering an individual’s timeline.

“Yes! This!” I say out loud to absolutely no one at all.

Altering an individual’s timeline. That’s exactly what’s been calling to me all day. I give an excited shimmy, and speed through the rest of the page.

“Something, something, exercising caution, something, paradoxes, blah blah, temporal backlash, and protective amulets.”

But none of this is really what I’m looking for. Then again, this is a journal, not a grimoire, so it won’t contain spells.

Snapping the book shut, I discard it beside me and select the next heavy tome from the shelf. The Book of Spirits and Animals weighs as much as Ethel, I’m sure, and it thuds to the floor in a cloud of dust.

The spine cracks when I open the cover. Reflexively, I look over my shoulder, half expecting to find Anabelle’s stern glare aimed my way. Chuckling, I whisper an apology, but my smile fades when I realise that this book is written in Latin too. Yay for me.

Compromising with myself, I read every other word, else I’m not convinced that I’ll carry on.

I flip through the crisp pages, scanning for any mention of ingredients or casting methods. “No, no… blah blah… no. Oh, wait. What was that?”

The phase of the moon directly correlates to the outcome of time magic.

“Okay, so if it’s in the waxing phase, the lunar energy lends itself to future growth, but if it’s in the waning phase, then there’s more energy to support reflection, or clearance and closure.” Leaning on my elbows, I tip my head back to look behind me and out of the window over my bed, but I can’t see the moon from here.

Maybe it’s fine? These spells are calling to me for a reason. I can feel it. Maybe the time is now, whatever the lunar phase is.

Moving on, I continue my search for helpful information until my eyes cross. Nothing is written in an accessible way, it’s all dry and overly wordy. Boring, actually. “Sorry, ancestors, but how you all ever got anything done I don’t know.”