Page 61
Story: Bewitched
“Today, we’re going to learn the particular types of magic that call to you,” Professor Huang says. “This will give you a good foundational understanding of your own magic, which you can then build on. It’s important to know our magical strengths. And later in this course, we will do this again. Only, next time, we will look for the items you want to avoid—those will be your magical aversions.
“But I’m getting ahead of myself.” They clap their hands once, their hair swaying with the action. “Now, witches,” they say, “I’ll have you come down—please form a line in front of the table.”
I get up and follow my classmates down to the stage.
“I know what many of you are thinking,” Professor Huang says as we all get in line. “Why must you do this again when you have likely done it before?”
We’ve…done this before?
My mind strains to find a similar memory to this, one that either happened here at Henbane or at Peel Academy. None comes to me.
If the memory once existed, it’s become a casualty of my magic.
Our instructor continues. “I recommend repeating this test every few years. As we all know, magic is wily and wild, and it likes to grow and change just as much as we do.”
Once we’ve all lined up, Professor Huang moves to the table and the witch at the front. “Now let’s begin.”
One by one, my classmates step up to the table and pick out several items that represent their magical preferences. Most end up gravitating to the potted plant—green magic—as well as the loaf of bread and the bundle of herbs, all items that really speak to the life-giving, medicinal nature of witchcraft.
Every so often someone reaches for the locket, or the piece of paper, or the crystal. I watch, fascinated, curious about what I’ll end up picking.
When it’s my turn, I step up to the table, my magic buzzing beneath my veins. My eyes sweep over the items. I already know what my magic likes best—memories. But the items before me are conduits, allowing magic to be used to its furthest extent.
“Eyes closed, hand out,” Professor Huang instructs.
I do as they ask. I can’t see the objects clearly with my eyes closed, but I can sense the magic pulsing through each one. I reach out an arm, my palm turned toward the items.
Almost immediately, my hand moves, drifting to the right, then down, until my fingertips touch something wet.
“Water,” my instructor murmurs. “Go on.”
My arm moves again, now drawn to a different section of the table. When my hand drops into another bowl, I don’t even need to hear what my instructor has to say. I can feel the soft soil sifting between my fingers.
I lift my hand out of the dirt. Right next to it is another item tugging at me for attention.
My hand wraps around a smooth stone.
“River rock,” Professor Huang says. “Anything else?”
I release the smooth stone. My magic is calling me to two final points on the table. I go with the closest item first, my fingers brushing the rough rim of something and nearly knocking it over. I place my palm more firmly over it.
“The Vinca cup,” my instructor murmurs. “Interesting, my dear.”
A sharp pull has my arm moving once more. With my eyes still shut, I close my hand around a cool glass vial. This is it, the last item.
“Moon dust,” Professor Huang says as my eyes flutter open. Beneath my hand is the vial filled with dark dirt.
“Good job,” my instructor says. “What anunusualcombination.”
My disappointment leaves a bitter tang on my tongue.
Water, dirt, a rock, a pot, and…moon dust?Thoseare the things I’m drawn to? Not the herbs? Not the bread? I fuckingadorebread.
My magic feels cold and lifeless.
“Water may indicate you’ll have a knack for potion making,” my instructor says. “It’s interesting that you picked the river rock but not the crystals and the soil but not the plant. The clay pot is particularly notable as it is nearly five thousand years old, and it contains some of the first forms of writing etched onto it.” They point to a small and crudely made spiral. “Finally, the moon dust is an indication that your power may be sensitive to the lunar phases—those can really heighten spells, but you’ll need to read up on them.”
They pat me on the shoulder.
Table of Contents
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