The Keeper of magic

"Come oooon," I groan. My hand is straining from all the energy I'm trying to send to the sapling below it. "Come on, GROW!" A tiny new flower bud began to grow, and a small thrill flutters in my heart.

Knock, knock!

I stop what I'm doing and scramble to my vanity and grab my comb to look busy. "Come in!"

            “"You almost ready, hun?” The door creaks open, and my mother steps into the room. We have the same brown curly hair and pale, freckled skin, and while I had my father's green eyes, her eyes were a dark brown. She walks over to me, touches my shoulders and reaches her hand in offering to take the comb from me. I let her take it and she begins brush my hair, “The Choosing is about to begin."

            "Yeah, I know," I say. The eldest of the three Matriarchs of our Coven died a few weeks ago. The Choosing is a ritual contest that happens the next full moon for younger witches ages 18 to 25 to see who would be the next successor. Even though it's not a requirement, not participating is basically signaling to the entire coven that you’re weak and aren’t a dedicated member. I was hoping the Waning Matriarch would last for five more years so I could get out of competing, but the goddess had other plans.

            My mother soothing stokes in my hair relaxes me as she helps put it in a ponytail. "You know, whatever happens I'm so proud of you, and I think you're an incredible witch."

            "Yeah, I know." I can’t look at her. She's my mom. She has to be proud of me. But all I can think about are the small looks of disapproval from the older coven members throughout my childhood. Whispers of "I wouldn't expect this from Rosetta's child” and “she must be so disappointed" when they thought I couldn't hear.     

      "Before we go, I want to give you this for luck," My mom says. I turn around to see. She places her staff into my hands. The long and thick oak staff rests a large piece blue celestite at the top. "My mother gave it to me when I was about your age, as her mother did before her. It seems only fitting to give it to you now.”

            "I-I- Thank you, mom, But I don't deserve it yet."

            My mom turns me around and cups my face tenderly. "It's not about deserving it, Maeve. It doesn't matter if your magic doesn't manifest the same way as others. Remember, you are a Stone, which means you are tough and able to withstand anything." Her thumb strokes my cheek, and I lean into the embrace.

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It's dusk when we arrive at manor house. Behind an iron gate with an intricate Art Novaue design that takes the shape of the waxing, full, and waning moon sits black Victorian-style house in the middle of the woods. Magic swings it open automatically as my mom’s car pulls up to it. A sea of coven members already gathered outside, all wearing identical robes to mine.

            I sink into my seat. My breath quickens. I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. I know my magic isn't strong as the others, so what's the point of trying? Everybody I’m already a weak witch there’s no harm to my reputation if I–

            My mother rests a gentle hand on my shoulder and lightly squeezes it. "You got this."

            I nod. It's now or never. I step out, and we join the rest of the coven at the edge of the woods. The fog creeping from the woods danced along my ankles. Some snickers a few people down. "Why is Maeve Stone here?" I don't need to look; I already know Sage Helion is talking to her friends. "She can barely even do a transmutation." I know she's talking loudly on purpose, but I keep my gaze forward and my face as neutral as possible.

            The current two matriarchs make their way to the front of the group. Guinevere Kane, the now eldest matriarch. She is a short, plump black woman with a sweet smile that's permanently on her face from her smile lines and crow's feet by her eyes. Her silver locks were tied back into a bun. Her ferret familiar lounges around her neck like a scarf, She leaned on her cane for support. Beside her stands Minerva Grimm, a tall, middle-aged Japanese woman with long straight black hair and pale skin, with a beautiful raven perched on her shoulder. She looks like she was born to a matriarch. My mom told me stories of them together when they were growing up in the coven. How Minerva was a natural talent and was always studying or practicing magic. Minerva was also my teacher for magic since I could remember.

            "Welcome, sisters, to the Choosing!" Guinevere says in her raspy voice that crackles with every consonant. "We are blessed to begin a new phase in our coven, and it's time for the goddess to choose a new Waxing Matriarch." She looks at us with a smile that covers most of her face. "The three matriarchs' responsibilities correspond with the phases of the moon. I will now transition to the Waning, where I will now be an advisor to Minerva. Minerva will take on the position of the Full, becoming the new leader of the coven, helping take care of the now." She pauses for dramatic effect. "Whoever is chosen today will begin studying under Minerva and me, and become the teacher of the younger witches. Helping plant the seeds of the future."

            Minerva steps forward half a step, "The Choosing begins when I blow the conch. When I do, those who are eligible will make their way through the forest. They will compete against each other in search of the Keeper of Magic, who will grant them the knowledge and gifts needed to be a matriarch." A chill runs down my back at the name. The Keeper of Magic. I don't know who, or what, the Keeper is, but if I'm somehow chosen one, I have a few chosen words for them. "You may use magic and your wits to traverse through the woods, but if you kill another one of your sisters, you will be disqualified. Now those competing, please line up."

            I make my way forward and look at the about twenty other young women competing. I steal one last glance at my mom. She gives me an encouraging smile and two thumbs up and I return with a strained smile. I take a deep breath and fix my grip on my staff but it keeps sliding around in my hands. Goddess, my hands are sweaty.

            The conch shell blows, and sparks of blue light flow from the shell and begin to glow the dark forest. The Choosing has begun. My fellow competitors take off in a full sprint. I hesitate, but a voice in my head says it's now or never, and I begin my run. I quickly lose sight of my fellow witches as I begin to navigate the thick fog. I hear waves of magical energy being thrown and screams of my fellow witches.

            I have no idea where to go or what to do. Maybe if I had some magic that could actually work, it could help me through this. I keep pushing forward as much as I'm able. Suddenly, I feel a brush against my ankles, and I shuffle back, and I see a black cat standing. I want to believe it is not the same cat from earlier, but I know better.

            It then walks forward ahead and then turns around as if to see if I’m following, and so I do. It takes off in a run, and I try my best to match its pace, but it manages to disappear in the fog. But I kept running in the direction I saw it go.

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            Before I can register it, there’s a grab at my ankle, and I face plant to the ground. I twist to see a vine twisting and tightening around my ankle. Then I see Sage step into the clearing. “Why are you even trying, Maeve?” She says with a smug look on her face. “You know you don’t deserve it.”

            Even though it’s exactly what I’ve been thinking, I say nothing. Sage walks up to me, and a charge of magic begins to build in her hand. She stands over me.

"The best thing you can do now just stays here until someone who actually deserves to be a matriarch wins."

            I sneer and fight the urge to spit in her face. Sage doesn't deserve it either. Is this how a leader should act? The way Sage has treated me throughout my life is how she'll treat the rest of the coven. And I cannot let that happen.

            My hand inches toward my staff. "You know, you're right. I am not a powerful witch like you, Sage. But I have something that you don't."

            "And what is that?" She laughs.

            "Resilience," I grip my staff and hit Sage's legs as hard as I can. She stumbles back, I yank the vine holding my feet off, and get up as quickly as I can. Sage screams and sends a fireball at me, and I jump out of the way. She charges at me, and I swing at her chest with all the strength I have. The force of the hit sends Sage back to hit a tree, and she begins to slide down. I rush to her and take another swing at her head, and Sage crumples to the ground like a rag doll. Blood is trickling down the side of her head and is beginning to clot up Sage's usually perfect blonde hair I quickly check her pulse, it's still going. Good.

Hopefully, this will teach her something.

            And give her a nasty concussion.

            A soft mew comes from beside me, I jump. "Goddess above! Stop doing that!" I scold the cat. I look between the cat and Sage. "That was pretty cool, me, huh?" I say to it. The cat just blinks at me and turns to lead me again. "I'm going to pretend you think so." I go to follow it.

            We walk for a little bit until we see a small wooden cottage in the middle of the woods. The cat sits by the front door. Above the door, there's a sign that reads:

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            "The Keeper of Magic. Look Inward," I translate softly to myself. I turn to the cat and say, "So the Keeper is just inside. It's that easy?" The cat gives a small nod. "Oh, so you can understand me, cool, cool." The cat just blinks its big green eyes at me. "Tough crowd."

            I shake the nerves out of my arms and legs and take a deep breath before I open the door and step into the cottage. It's a single room that is much larger on the inside and looks like it's in a cave, but the walls look to be made out of a reflective mother of pearl. Light from the full moon illuminates the room from a hole in the ceiling. And nobody is in here.

            "Hello?" I call out to no response. "HALLOOOO?!" I try again. Surely the deity I'm looking for is just invisible. "Keeper, I'm here. Please, show yourself."

            All I see is how desperate I look in my reflection. I turn to open the door to talk to the cat, "You're not secretly the keeper, are you?" But like the Keeper, the cat is nowhere to be seen. Frustration begins to bubble from me in the form of tears. I slam the door and turn back into the empty room and call out, "Is this some sort of sick joke?! My entire life, I have been hoping that you'd finally see my worth and give me my powers, and now that I'm literally at your doorstep, you still ignore me! Show yourself, coward!"

            I wait in silence for a beat. Then another. And another. Still, the only other people in the room are infinite reflections that surround me.

            "Why wasn't I good enough for you? Why are you holding back my powers? Am I not good enough? Clearly, I am because you lead me here! It says to look inward, and I did! And all I'm met with is my stupid reflection! You were supposed to be here with me, but I'm all alone." My staff clamors to the ground, and I fall to my knees. I am alone in the Keeper's cottage.

            Wait.

            I am the only in the Keeper's Cottage.

            I look up, and I see my reflections are no longer mirroring me. They are still standing. There is no true keeper of magic, I'm the keeper of my magic. My mother's words echo through my mind. It's not about deserving. My reflections begin to offer small smiles and nods of encouragement as the realization settles in. One of the walls fades and shows me as a young witch able to keep up with my peers.

            Then the next wall fades and shows me when I was twelve, and the other witches were starting to get stronger I started to doubt myself, and my magic never progressed. Not succeeding on the first try and then giving up. The next shows me all the studying and practicing I've done but ending up in frustration. I turn to the final wall and gasp. I see an older version of myself smiling at me, and she touches her hand against the glass. I walk over, and with each step, I feel a waterfall of energy pouring from the top of my head down to the tips of my toes, washing away any and all doubt. I place my hand on my reflection, and I smile back.

            A beam of light pours in from the hole in the roof, and I feel myself being lifted up. From my vantage point I see the light pour and flush energy through the woods. Signaling to everyone that someone has been chosen.

I feel magic course through every fiber of my being, and I feel my mind being opened up to arcane knowledge. Though it isn’t all clear in my mind, I have an inner knowing that I have access to it at any time.

            I am gently placed back on the ground of the cottage. I pick up my staff when I walk outside, I see the black cat sitting patiently. I bend down and offer my arms to it, and it jumps into them and nuzzles into my neck, and vibrates as it purrs. I trek back to the Manor.

            As I return to the clearing, the crowd is a chorus of gasps, of cheers, of "whats” and "no ways." The cat leaps from my arms and runs to Guinevere and Minerva, who motioned me to join them. The crowd parts so I can walk. I spot Sage as I walk by and stop in front of her. The blood on her face was dry, and a giant bruise was forming on her forehead.

            "I'm sorry for knocking you out," I say.

            "Don't be, you did what you had to do, and it makes me respect you more," She says with a sneer. “Though I still don’t like it.”

            "I know," I shrug and continue my walk.

            As I reach the porch, Guinevere offers me a pointed hat, and I lower my head in acceptance. "Congratulations, Maeve Stone. Everyone cheers for our new matriarch!" The coven claps, but all I can only focus on is my mother, who is giving me the biggest smile. Though she doesn't say it, I can already hear the I knew it.