Page 28 of Rewitched

“Revenge should never fuel magic.” Caspar sighed and nodded slowly, reluctantly.

Belle couldn’t bring herself to catch his eye.

“Is this really what the future of our coven rests upon? Absurdly disappointing,” spluttered a furious older lady.

The jury called out and bickered amongst themselves.

“We cannot deny that truth of magic exists here. She is a Blackthorn.”

“Family name can only carry her so far.”

“But this jury cannot negate the other qualities. Experience? Her magic remains largely unexplored, usually ignored entirely.”

“What of action? Hardly commendable. This witch has barely ventured to imagine what she’s capable of.”

“Even perception is questionable. It cannot be said with confidence that these manifests come from entirely unselfish magic.”

8

As soon as the next scene began to play out, rain and lightning transported her back. As everyone had already witnessed in glorious technicolour, Belle had previously used magic to try and change herself in several different ways, but they had always been appearance-based. This particular time, she had decided that magic would change the aspects of herself that nobody else could see, which she wrestled with alone.

Violet’s offer took her by surprise the first time, years ago at twenty-seven. The fear had been too great. Curiosity and excitement were displaced by dread of what might happen if she dared to make the leap. She almost resented her boss for putting her in that position. It wasn’t the right time for change. It never was. She couldn’t trust herself to do it. And she didn’t deserve it.

The potion that she had created to make herself braver and bolder, make herself steadfast with confidence, had burned in her chest. As she attempted to swallow down the vile mix, trying incantation after incantation to manipulate who she was, it had become clear that magic could not be relied on to change that. Confidence potions and nerve tonics were complex but valid magic, but something to change her intrinsic gifts, her innermost make-up, was to dabble far beyond her skill set. She wasn’t ready to be brave, even with the help of magic. So she had stayed scared, turned down the chance and watched her opportunity drift instead to somebody else’s snatching hands.

“She started out with such promise…”

“Decisions from fear, every time. I certainly can’t respect it.”

“Superficial and selfish.”

Belle’s shoulders were so tense that they felt glued to her ears, the brim of her hat pulled down so low that she could barely see anymore. She felt exposed to an extreme, a light being shone into the darkest nooks of her magical history. It all felt so unfair, but perhaps there were no better options for the fates to choose for her manifests. This was, at its crux, an accurate painting of her potential. She had remained stuck, stayed living small. Fading from favour, magic wilting away while the years passed.

The dancing sparks and splashes had lost all of their earlier beauty. They turned her stomach as they painted their last picture.

9

She saw two figures side by side again, and at first, she couldn’t work out what was happening. It soon dawned on her, however, that there couldn’t have been a worse, more private moment for Selcouth to see. The memory came from a long time ago.

Unable to sit with her secret anymore, Belle had ventured timidly to open up the conversation and reveal her magic to a non-wicche soul. And, foolishly, she hadn’t chosen Ariadne. She had been proud and excited to share it, tender with the blush of first love.

“Do you believe in magic?” she’d asked nervously, creasing the corner of a page between her fingers as she thumbed through a paperback.

In response, he’d sneered. “Don’t tell me you’re getting into that. Anyone who goes in for that stuff is embarrassing.”

“You don’t believe at all?”

“It doesn’t exist, obviously.”

“But not everything can be explained in black and white, so surely it must exist,” she’d chanced, used to having to defend her joy to him by now.

“No, it doesn’t. And it’s kind of pathetic to think it does.”

“But—”

“Why are you even asking me this? Stop being weird.”

Although some buried part of her had known to expect it, his response had shoved her hard in the chest, sent her curling back into a closed shell. He had always been repulsed by her wonder and naivety once the initial novelty of them had worn off, so she had trained it to stay hidden afterwards. That was the one and only time she’d attempted to share her magic with a non-wicche.