Page 29 of Disenchanted

“Is it me or has this…changed?” His gaze was firmly fixed on the chain. That made a lot more sense than…whatever she had thought was happening for a moment.

He was right. The chain of stars and moons was no longer the same artefact that they were so familiar with. The first star was as it had been, the perfect shape to slot inside the lock. But the second, previously a mottled crescent moon on a small disc, was now a tiny silver house. And the third, once a simple five-pointed star, had become like a butterfly.

“Curious…”

Casimir bent to fasten the two ends together around Sage’s wrist, sliding one end through the loop on the other. It slotted together firmly into something like a charm bracelet.

“There. No more losing this thing. I suspect we may need it.”

The pair returned to their den in the archive, the room warm from their body heat. They had been cooped up together for hours since the schoolchildren had departed, very well-behaved and quiet, onto a bus, all demanding a story for the journey. At her desk, Sage clicked on the tape recorder, the play, pause and stop buttons worn smooth from so many years of their touches.

“Friday, October twentieth. Approximately ten p.m. Sage Hemlock and Casimir Everald both present in the archive at Port Sylvan’s heritage museum, continuing their exploration of a donated spell book, notably once belonging to Lilara Mournfell. Connection to her cloak chain confirmed, acting as some sort of key. Evidence of something wild and unpredictable within said book. Perhaps a spirit, a supernatural presence. An undefined phantasm, for generality’s sake.”

“Which one Sage Hemlock seems to have set free into the town because she’s full of good ideas like that.”

“Oh, shut up, Cas. This is an official record.”

“Then let the record show that, for once, none of this is my fault.”

Two more hours passed of theorizing, the pair reaching for some of their favourite, most reliable texts, looking for anything that made reference to escaped magic or presences. Hauntings emitting from books, accidental activations…The Vessel and the Veil: Studies in Contained Power seemed to suggest that at least such a concept was possible. Bottled Moonlight and Other Convenient Mysteries included a folktale of an old woman who trapped her lost husband’s soul within a self-help book—not entirely out of the ballpark. Of course, with Port Sylvan’s reputation the way it was, there were several more local examples that could be argued to show similarity. And it had long been rumoured, passed down through generations of believers, that Lilara’s presence had remained in some form after she fled, latent for years between the town’s ley lines.

Sage and Casimir dutifully noted down each point of interest until they had pages and pages of chaotic, scrawled notes, covered in arrows, clouds and crosshatches. But it all led back to the same seemingly impossible, dreaded conclusion that the undefined magic had awoken to Sage specifically. She refused to let that be the case. There had to be another explanation.

Sage was now fully lying down on her front, legs swaying mindlessly as she lost herself to reams of records. Her hair grew wilder and wilder with the late hour, all formality of work abandoned. Casimir was lying on his back with his collar unbuttoned and tie loosened. He held a book above his head and angled it around, trying and failing to get comfortable.

“This is useless.” He dropped the book onto his face. “Ow. I think I’m even more confused now than I was to begin with. Perhaps we’re overcomplicating things.”

“Is that possible? I can’t imagine there is anything much more complicated than highly unusual magical activity.”

“Is it all that unusual, though? Your magic has been increasingly haywire for weeks, although granted, far worse than any other time. But what if it wasn’t just October’s thinning veil to blame? What if it was answering the presence of the book all along? It certainly stepped up its antics once the book was close by, didn’t it? We must assume that the escaped magic”—he tapped his pen against his chin—“ ‘escaped’? Is that the right word? That implies that it was…trapped in the book in the first place.”

Sage paused. “Trapped…like someone put it there on purpose. Caught between the pages.”

Casimir mirrored her frozen stance. “Someone who wanted to be rid of their magic.”

They both scrambled upright. “Is it possible,” Sage breathed, “that this is all Lilara’s own pure essence of magic, escaped from where it was banished to? Her grimoire?”

“It stands to reason. What else can you remember about the spell?”

Sage blinked hard at the question. She hadn’t realized until now that they had been creeping closer and closer to each other without thinking. Somewhere in the moment, the space between them had vanished. Now they were almost nose to nose. Casimir’s lips parted a fraction, as though he couldn’t remember quite what they were in the midst of.

Sage shifted back, desperately trying to recall anything herself, namely the rhythm of the words that had spilled from her mouth of their own accord. They had checked the CCTV to see if they could watch the moment back, but whatever force had spilled from the book had also cut the connection, the picture zapping to black the moment the pages flew open.

“The general gist was that rejecting magic isn’t possible, and doing as much only makes it grow…”

“Oh, Laurel is going to be absolutely unbearable when she hears about this.”

“Something about a witch’s power…”

“Well, that’s obvious; I could have told you that much.”

“Something, something…grow anon…cannot be outrun…”

“No real loss there—you’re worse than useless at running anyway. Sort of like a terrapin, very slow with flailing arms.”

Even in deep concentration, Sage managed to shoot him a withering look.

“Allow a witch to use her magic and the town will come to learn? I’m not sure of that bit…” But the final lines were all too clear in her mind: “Magic in heart, magic in air. Magic forever, everywhere.”