Page 40 of Board Games and Broomsticks

Once Nyssa was certain the bird wasn’t going to lunge at her, she reached up and, as quickly and gently as she could, plucked a feather from its wing.

The owl didn’t even react. Its attention was fixed on Liora, its eyes slowly inching shut. Liora shot Nyssa a triumphant grin, her fingers never wavering as they created one of the most beautiful melodies Nyssa had ever heard.

She really is incredible.

With the owl distracted, Nyssa went about drawing a circle of salt atop the wall before taking the lump of clay and a piece of string out of her coat pocket. She tied the feather to the clay as quickly as she could, and then, satisfied the feather wouldn’t come loose, placed it in the centre of the salt circle.

‘With this string I do entwine,

I will this magic to re-align;

Return what is into what came before,

To its true form, I shall restore.’

Nyssa’s nose tingled with the tickle of her magic. The scent was stronger now than it had been for months, the rich cacao notes making her think of warm winter evenings in front of the fire, and she breathed it in as she had her grandmother’s. Let it fill her with warmth and comfort as she envisioned the owl above her morphing back into clay. Slowly, her vision began to become reality: first the owl shrank, and then its sharp, taloned-feet turned to clay, followed by its wings, and then its chest and beak. The owl didn’t try to fight the magic, and just before the clay covered its eyes, Nyssa thought she saw something like relief in their yellow depths.

Once it was done, Nyssa reached up to the branch and carefully cradled the figurine in her palm. It was still warm with magic.

‘That was amazing,’ Liora breathed. She’d stopped playing her lyre now, and was staring down at the figurine owl in awe. Nyssa couldn’t blame her; it had been pretty amazing.

They had been amazing.

Suddenly filled with the urge to pull Liora into a tight embrace, Nyssa said, ‘I should get this little one back into its box. Thank you for your help, Li. I couldn’t have done it without you.’

Not bothering to hold herself back in the same way Nyssa had, Liora embraced her with more strength than Nyssa expected from someone so petite.

‘You did great. I’ll see you at the tavern tonight – we should celebrate!’

Warmth flooded through Nyssa at the prospect, a warmth that followed her back inside as she put the owl into its box and then returned to the kitchen table. With her magic still tingling in her fingertips and the adrenalin of what she’d just achieved running through her veins, the prospect of seeing what her third and final trial involved was far less daunting.

Nyssa made herself another cup of tea – a new blend of Gwen’s, who had taken one of her grandma’s unfinished recipes and worked on it to create a soothing chamomile, honey and ginger mix – and settled into one of the kitchen chairs. Nyx, who had finally left the comfort of the armchair by the fireplace in the living room and followed Nyssa back into the kitchen, jumped up to sit on the chair beside her.

‘Last one before the big one,’ Nyssa said, stroking her head. ‘Let’s see what darling Edith has in store.’

Nyssa tore open the wax seal on the letter and unfolded the parchment within.

Dear Mage Hawthorne,

The coven wishes to send its congratulations to you on completion of your second trial. Details of your third trial, the trial of the Spirit, are included within this envelope. Details of your final test shall be provided should you successfully complete this trial.

Blessed be,

Edith Kelster

Interim Head Mage of The Coven of the Sacred Owl

There was a second piece of parchment in the envelope, and the ink on this one was old and faded, the detail of each letter intricately penned. It was a spell Nyssa was infinitely familiar with: The Mirror Spell.

Some of the bravado she’d gained from her triumph with the owl wavered. The spell was an old one, used in order for a witch to be able to connect with their inner self and overcome their greatest fears. She’d only ever cast it once before, when she’d first graduated from her coven training. It had been difficult even then, when she’d been confident and free of the guilt that came with mistakes, but now …

Nyx pawed at her thigh, claws gently pricking through the fabric of her skirt. You can do it, her familiar seemed to say, her wide, pupil-filled eyes blinking in that slow, reassuring way they always did when Nyssa needed comfort.

Nyssa scooped her up into her arms and pressed her against her chest. ‘What would I do without you, hm?’ she asked, breathing in the scent of her and kissing the top of her head. ‘Come on, then. Let’s get this over with.’

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

As Nyssa stepped over the threshold into the attic, her eyes landing on the candelabra in the centre of the altar, her stomach gave a strange lurch. Nyssa released a heavy sigh. Ever since childhood, her path had been clear. Now, there was a fork in the road, and she couldn’t tell which route was the right one.