Page 5

A few weeks with DeeDee… the plant name was still a work in progress… a difficult one at that…

proved a fair amount of time to suffer the dipping lows of browned edges post sprouting to indicate overwatering and even a bit of sunburned leaves from experimenting with dozens of placements of the sproutling around the manor.

At first, her room seemed like the best place, for privacy.

But, in the end it worked out better for that to be one of the last places.

Sure, she slept there every night but other than that she spent such little time, it became a chore to check back in on the sproutlings’ progress and record it in her log.

The log seemed like a great idea at the time but it became another task. A fiend for lists, Harlow loved the initial creation of it and the first few days of reporting “No sign of growth, soil moist, sun adequate…”

it wasn’t… and there was no high quite like the one that she got when recording that tiny little blip that broke the surface of the soil but damn, it was slow.

Atlas stayed a fair distance away at first but their interest seemed to be too much and they slowly orbited closer around the pot.

That was what took up most of her time, which was a bit of an expectation adjustment.

Being a Spellsaven’s assistant seemed like it would be an exciting and busy time but day after day Atlas did not assign her much.

The few times they asked for an enchantment here and there, Harlow pressured herself to succeed.

The only other thing they asked of her was to create a list of things she wanted to learn or questions that plagued her mind.

Harlow looked down at the blank sheet on her desk.

It mocked her from its spot.

The gleam of a clean, unspoiled paper bore into her and she felt that although the paper didn’t have eyes, that if it did, they would follow her around the room.

What kind of assignment was this? Was this a test? Here she was overthinking it again and the worst part was she KNEW she was overthinking it.

Knew that she just needed to write anything, anything at all.

Finally, Harlow pulled her chair back in her workroom and sat firmly in the chair with a huff.

If she could grow a plant from a seed then why not come up with at least one thing? Was it because she had so many things she wanted to learn? Was it that she just came from a place where she had access to endless knowledge so what more questions could she ask? That was what Atlas was here for, to show her what SHE needed to learn out here in the wide wide world.

Or was it the clawing, sinking feeling that after this task, she’d be done and gone? Back into her world of taking and sneaking and not at all in a place of feeling magic like this.

That she was unworthy or that she was anything but a wizard.

Harlow tapped her fingers on the side of the desk as if there was some secret combination of tapping that could ease this headache from taking over her.

One that she’d likely summoned herself as an excuse to put this off just one more day.

With a quick look out into the hallway, Harlow allowed herself to slouch in her seat and it felt GOOD.

Atlas wasn’t one that commented on form or posture and they hardly practiced standing straight let alone still.

The posture of an avid student, of someone who was pursuing knowledge was straight back, chin up, hands in front when looked upon.

Students, learners, knowledge seekers were creatures that needed SPACE.

They draped themselves about, huddled over their work, feet found anywhere but the floor.

Now that was a student.

Surely no one could judge Harlow for allowing herself a little bit of dropping into a similar state.

One she accented with a hand idly tracing the part in her hair where her short side met up against long hair that now cascaded down and about the desk.

What to write? What to ask for? What could help the community? That’s what Spellsavens did best.

Her thoughts went to Saddlewood, and although from a big city, it was difficult for her to think of what the town didn’t have.

Or didn’t have by choice.

Boundary lines for safety.

This seemed like a good enough start; if she were to head out, surely keeping spellwork or runes around communities would be important.

She kept it vague, hoping that when asked Atlas would lead her in the direction of what they had already learned a community found counted as Harlow wanted to ask for a mending spell. Surely something to help the manor would be a great idea as it really needed the help. She could spare some daily casting to make mends. And it would show Atlas that she cared about their… home. Hers now too. Bleh, saying “home”

even in her head created a sour reaction and she licked her lips as if to clean it from them. No, not a home. A place. But Atlas’ surely.

Harlow clicked her tongue. Could this be an opportunity to subtly direct herself towards the vault? Be bold. Be brave.

Protected Doorway.

Staring down at the parchment, now that she had written it down, it seemed idiotic to her. Harlow scrunched her nose as she debated it and instead crossed out the line altogether. She bounced her leg in place and thought upon what little her would have wanted. When magic was still so new to an eager mind, when all things were possible, when silly thoughts were not silly but were unabashed ambitions.

She sighed and learned forward on the heavy desk to stir her tea. Out of all things that were possible, she used to wish she could make it rain. Just so the streets would drain of people and she could run out in them and just feel free. There would be looks but they were always so soft as simple joy was recognized. A universal feeling of being lost in the magic of nature. Weather magic was not impossible but it was strictly prohibited. One person might welcome the rain for crops but their neighbor might wish for high winds for their windmills. When people played with the weather, it only ended in chaos and destruction.

Harlow wrote down “Make it rain.”

She thought about the impossibility of the request and added to the end of it, “just for me.”

As Harlow finished the curve of the e, a large sound rocked from the room next to hers. She stood quick enough to fling the heavy chair back and dropped her pen on the table with urgency. As she rounded the edge of the desk, she paused and turned quickly to palm the paper and shove it into one of the pockets that wasn’t filled with dust.

Peeking slowly around the doorframe of the room next door, Harlow spotted Atlas. Unlike their normal attire dressed completely in billowy clothing, they had a heavily patched knitted cardigan pulled around their form which caused those billowy sleeves to become big bubbled sleeves. There was tinsel draped throughout their hair and even a piece strung along their earrings. Atop their head were two different… no, three different hats all piled precariously on the other. There were even various scarves tied around their waist. By all first appearances, it would seem that Atlas was in the middle of cleaning their room and adorning themselves with reclaimed treasures as they did so. However, as Harlow looked around, the room was very much not any cleaner. This storage room looked as if a large gust of wind tore through, but if it did, how would those hats stay perfectly in place?

Atlas had their hands full with a large bag which they were looking into as if they’d fall in any second (totally possible when it came to wizards) and so they didn’t notice her at first. She waited only a few beats more before knocking politely on the door frame.

“Everything okay here?”

They turned quickly enough to make the hats sway harshly and Atlas dropped a hand to clutch them in place while looking sheepishly at Harlow. “Quite all right… well.”

They tipped their hats back into place. “Except for our task today.”

Their face hardened with a slight raise of their lip in disgust.

Harlow entered the room and held her hands together, intrigued by the thought of something new to work on. “And that would be…?”

They took two large steps forward towards her and clutched the bag to their chest before lowering their head to look her in the eyes with a grave set expression. “We must feed the beast.”

Her eyes narrowed as she took in the seriousness of their face before they leaned back and looked her head to toe. “You’ll need some tools…”

They then whisked themselves back to the shelves and began to dig through various boxes and baskets, shoving random items into the green burlap bag.

“To feed… a beast?”

Harlow took a deep breath, trying to judge just how seriously to take this herself.

“Well, kind of.”

Atlas huffed. “The Beast needs caring for. Not much now that Bethal has designed and built its perfect habitat, but the runes to keep others out and it in need to be refreshed, and I apologize, my apprentice, it is a job that we must do. Normally with something so dangerous I would have you wait a little longer, but with Magdalanous out of town, I really do need another set of hands to complete the renewing.”

“Is the beast really all that threatening?”

Harlow shrugged and began to dig through one of the boxes to match Atlas’ energy. Her hands found a sleek and polished handle of a wood-carving knife.

“Oh yes, the most dangerous creature I have come across in quite some time. It is a creature and no matter the danger, every creature is worth protecting. No, this.”

Atlas took the small knife from her hands and switched it out with a large machete. “There, that’s better.”

Bless their heart, Harlow thought. She was much more capable of defending the both of them with the simple carving knife but one must keep up appearances. “Atlas… this seems a bit extreme… we’re wizards…”

She idly played with the machete as if she’d never touched a thing like it in her life.

“Yes, yes, of course. The blade is for the foliage that the beast lives in just in case we get separated…”

Atlas sidestepped over to her and nudged her arm with theirs. “I would say that if we get separated you should stay in place until I find you, but I can tell that if anyone rescues anyone, you’d be the one to find me.”

Atlas winked quickly and zipped up the bag. “OK, dear apprentice, there are some rules we must follow as we do this. The runes are simple enough, you’ll recognize them instantly, but it is important that we stay on the path and if the beast should come near you, do not engage.”

Harlow nodded.

“And whatever you do, do NOT touch it.”

Atlas wagged a finger as if scolding them both.

Harlow leaned closer and whispered, “…what happens when you touch it?”

Atlas shuddered and then leaned close enough that their breath brushed over her ear, “Well then you must kiss your ass goodbye.”