Page 26 of Rewitched

Bronwyn, double-checking that the mouse in her pocket had survived the events, didn’t seem to hear. “And on with…What’s next? Ah, yes, the nine manifests of Belle Blackthorn. That’s you, dear,” Bronwyn said.

The sisters turned away from their view of the witch in question and spun to face the pendulum, its huge brass form reflecting in the flooded floor.

“We begin the Manifests of Belladonna Blackthorn. Thunder, lightning and rain, come together with the magic of Selcouth.” Morena spoke firmly and clearly.

She held out her hands so that they hovered over the iridescent floods of storm-water surrounding their podium with rainbow reflects. At her words, sparks of magic flew magnetically from Morena’s palms and joined the thousands of tiny lightning bursts. Like a whirlwind, the magic and lightning began to fly in great tornado circles. Belle could only watch in awe as the sea of storm-water then rose to meet it all in a great tidal wave that towered over everybody. Sparks and splashes flew madly in a cyclone together as Morena’s palms conducted the spellwork. Together, the powers were forming a shape. A pattern. A picture.

“Is that…me?” Belle was astonished.

With chaotic elegance, the elements formed what was undeniably an image, a live dot-to-dot made of magic and cascading water, of her younger self. Bronwyn turned back to her, nodding excitedly but placing her finger to her lips to shush her.

1

Belle recognised the moment almost instantly. It was her fifteenth birthday, and she stood around a family-sized cauldron with her mother and her grandmother. The three of them were dishevelled and filthy, having spent the day in Bonnie’s greenhouse picking flora for Belle’s first ever cauldron-based spell. They’d decided on something simple, a comforting brew of Solatium Quies to help Belle feel at home with her newly acquired powers. It was one of her most treasured memories, the three of them selecting the right flowers and herbs and mushrooms together. She remembered the potion, like sipping on the feeling of stepping out into a warm day, feeling the sun’s rays on her skin as she drank. Her heart could have burst to hear their trio of female laughter in a chorus, the clinking of bottles and flasks a balanced harmony. She suddenly wished desperately for her mum and ached with the familiar raw grief for her grandmother who, even now, made herself known like a weary visitor seeking a home for the night.

“Touching. It comes so naturally to the Blackthorns. Undoubtedly truth,” she heard Caspar say.

“The power of mother and daughter magic—threefold, too,” offered a jury member with colourful hair knots, who clapped with sheer joy. They all sounded thoroughly pleased with the first manifest. After moments that Belle wished would last longer, the sparks and splashes tumbled back down, sending deep ripples across the floor before rising back again in a wave.

2

This time, they merged to become the image of a later teenage Belle, when her hair was longer and her jeans were, frankly, terrible. She sat cross-legged in front of her single bed and a floor-length mirror to practice, a tiny kitten Jinx nuzzling at her chin as Belle pored over a book in her lap. She was trying (failing but trying nonetheless) to master a basic levitation spell straight from the grimoire without Bonnie’s supervision. She’d managed to raise the unsuspecting cat about a foot off the ground for a handful of seconds but hadn’t got much further. She persisted for hours, much to her floating furry friend’s confusion, before finally succeeding in continuous levitation.

A murmur of fond laughter from the jury at the floating, pawing kitten bolstered Belle a little. So far, shockingly, so good. A sentimental moment with her highly esteemed witch mother and grandmother followed by an example of dedication to learning her craft and an Animal Affinity to her familiar. Not only were these precious moments to relive, but they were earning points from hardened coven critics. She smiled as her own manifestation scooped Jinx onto her shoulder and gave her a scruff on the head, receiving a headbutt in return.

“Look, Mor. A natural and loyal familiar. The sign of a born witch.” Bronwyn pointed to her sister with a told-you-so expression. Morena rolled her eyes for what must surely be the hundredth time that day.

“Oh, please. Anyone can have a bloody cat, Bron.”

3

The picture cascaded back down into the water, and the elements remerged in a triumphant dance into a third manifest. Now they painted Belle and another figure.

“Ariadne!”

They must have been no more than seventeen, Belle thought, trying to recognise the scene that was crafting itself in dots. The sparks became a picture of the pair at university all those years ago, when they’d been the true meaning of the word “inseparable.” Ari had been dumped by a particularly foul boy (Belle couldn’t remember his name anymore) and was inconsolable.

On the grey day that the manifest had plucked from obscurity, they’d skipped university and parked up in front of the river in Ariadne’s second-hand car to lament her broken heart. In an attempt to cheer up her best friend, Belle had performed magic that she hoped would spark a smile. She’d thrown together a nature summoning spell, entirely doubtful of its success, but after she’d chucked the contents of the bottle out of the car window, it had ended up attracting all of the wildlife within a ten-mile radius.

The girls sat in disbelief, watching as deer, rabbits, badgers, hares and foxes emerged from the shrubs and woodland—even seals and otters glided by on the river. Ariadne swore that she’d seen a unicorn. Belle had tried to convince her it had been a dog with a stick. Their hysterical laughter and delirious shrieks from the memory rang around the courtroom. With the joy of magic, she succeeded that day in putting a smile back on Ari’s face, even for a few minutes, and watching the scene again made Belle remember the pleasure in magic for magic’s sake. Each new animal, depicted like shadow puppets in the magic, brought gasps and compliments from the jury.

“Wonderful, wonderful!” Bronwyn said, clapping. “Beautiful magic. I remember my first fauna summons, there’s nothing like it. Did end up bringing a dragon wandering into Donnington Service Station, though—bit of a ruckus…”

It felt to Belle like watching a film she didn’t want to end. The moments brought a nostalgic ache to her chest, both hollow and full at once. Magic really had shone inside her once, with a genuine love and desire to make life more wonderful.

4

Ariadne stayed in the picture for the fourth manifest, the image twisting and contorting to new strings of stars.

They stood together, shoulder to shoulder, ponytails swinging, in the corner of the college. Pieces of paper were lined up regimentally across tables, and both girls reached out for the one with their name on a neat square sticker. The brown envelopes contained what had felt like the be-all and end-all, the outcome of their final exams and the verdicts from universities.

Ariadne had been frantic all morning, chewing on the ends of her hair and stopping to be sick in a drain on the walk. She’d known that she’d botched the higher maths paper earlier in the summer and had been plagued with self-loathing ever since, knowing that it would spoil her chances of following the path she’d been set on.

Belle, much less of a fixed plan in mind, had been more nervous for Ariadne’s results than her own. Unable to handle the months of waiting, she had finally caved and reached for Bonnie’s crystal ball in the middle of the night. Her stomach had plummeted as the clouds behind the glass revealed Ariadne’s second choice university printed boldly across the paper. She’d cried for Ari and the thought of her broken dreams at eighteen.

Belle saw her manifest’s hands working unnoticed. She vaguely remembered turning to the grimoire to find a transformative spell to change the typed letters on the page inside the envelope. It was only what Ariadne deserved.

“That’s rather thoughtful,” pointed out a jury member wearing a frog-patterned jumper.