Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jared stood looking into the murky eyes of the village crone. Many shied away from her and her strange ways, but not him. Few dared to venture past what they considered the safety of the village and walk the trail that led through the dotting of trees, some called a forest, which he laughed at. If they thought a clump of trees growing here and there was a forest, he’d hate to see their reaction to a large tract of land covered by densely growing trees that reached high into the sky, their branches and leaves blocking out the sun’s rays. The trees that dotted the land leading to the crone’s cottage were strong and healthy, but not growing densely together, and definitely nothing near enough to be called a forest. While others called the path that led through the field and trees dark and foreboding, he considered it calming and inviting with its colorful flowers growing, breaking up the lush green underbrush that grew undisturbed. Well, as undisturbed as he allowed it to be. He also felt the pull to pick the flowers or touch the green ground covering, finding it wet with dew at times in the early mornings and always soft against his fingertips, no matter the time of day he walked the path. 

Jared felt drawn to the woman. It was as if there was something pulling him toward her, as if there was a homing beacon calling to something deep within him. Something that he couldn’t put his finger on, but made him feel akin to the crone, even if there wasn’t a drop of blood shared between them. He felt her thin hands grasp his shoulders, bony fingers digging into what little meat was on his thin sixteen-year-old frame. “How are you today, Matilda?” he inquired, looking around the cozy cottage he was familiar with and had come to love. To the left was a fireplace with a stone hearth and a chunky wooden mantelpiece that kept the cottage warm when the colder weather made its presence known. The front and back doors of the cottage lined up with one another and had been placed in the center of either wall. On either side of the doors were windows that allowed a cross breeze to flow through the cottage in the summer, cooling it off when the warmer temperatures arrived. Each window was covered by a long curtain that darkened the cottage when drawn and allowed the light to shine through when pulled back. To the left of the fireplace were two sets of floor-to-ceiling cabinets, which he knew the crone couldn’t reach without the aid of the wooden ladder kept nearby. He knew within the cabinets the crone stored herbs, candles, parchment, ink and quills, matches, and various other items along with dried foods, cups, dishes, and cutlery. Next to the cabinets was a sink that the crone could use to pump water from the creek into a bucket to use for cooking and bathing once the water had been heated by the fire. 

A few feet away from the cabinets sat a small wooden square table with two chairs. Jared knew the chairs were comfortable since he’d spent time sitting on them, keeping Matilda company while visiting with the crone, with Matilda teaching him about the herbs she grew and had drying around the cottage, hanging by the fireplace, and strung from twine that hung down from the ceiling of the cottage. On the opposite wall by the fireplace was what Matilda called her workstation, which was really a chair and a wooden desk with shelving and small drawers affixed to the top of it. He wasn’t sure what the drawers held since he was respectful of the crone’s privacy, and even when Matilda would leave him alone in the room, he had never dared to sneak a look. He had a feeling the crone would know he had invaded her privacy even if she never said a word. Across the room was a set of overstuffed chairs in a deep blue that appeared black in the right lighting. Between the chairs was a small round table, and on top of the table were three candlesticks in different sizes. A few feet away from the chairs was a door that led into the bedroom. He had only been allowed in the room once, but he could still recall how it looked. The room, which didn’t have a window, was dominated by a large bed, which he had thought odd when he saw it since the crone lived alone and had for as long as anyone in his village could remember. The bed had a carved wooden headboard and matching footboard. There was a nightstand to the left of the bed, which also had several candlesticks in varying heights, and at the foot of the bed was a wooden trunk he had never seen open. The wall opposite the bed had a small fireplace with a stone hearth but no mantelpiece. On one side of the fireplace was a large wooden wardrobe that reached to the ceiling, which he supposed held the crone’s clothes. On the other side of the fireplace was a wooden rocking chair and a small wooden table that also had candlesticks that were covered in melted wax, as were all the others in the cottage. He’d found out there was also a small washroom off the bedroom with a large bathtub and sink.

The walls were bare, no artwork or portraits of the crone’s family were hung, and he had never heard Matilda speak of her family, which to him was odd. The one time he’d asked, he had received a cryptic answer. “You have no family portraits,” he commented, looking at the bare walls and then at the crone. “Some of us come into this world alone,” Matilda said, and he had never mentioned the crone having a family again nor pressed her for an explanation. To him, it was just the way Matilda was. Cryptic and odd, feared by many even if they sought her out for her healing abilities or her magic, wanting her to create charms or hexes, yet she drew the line at performing blood magic, calling it unnatural and abhorrent. He’d never pressed for more from the crone, and he’d never asked if she had ever performed blood magic. Above each door frame were coffin nails placed there to ward off evil, and every time he was invited inside and stepped over the threshold, he wondered if the coffin nails actually kept whatever perceived evil out of the cottage or if the crone was teasing him. He supposed it was something Matilda held belief in and never questioned the validity of it. As far as he was concerned, the cottage was Matilda’s and the crone could do as she pleased. 

“Jared, you’re special. There’s magic in you,” the village crone announced knowingly, smiling down at the sixteen-year-old boy in her grasp. Many of those in the village refused to meet her stare and would look away from her in fear. Not this boy who would grow into a man who would wield such strength. 

Smiling at Matilda, Jared laughed. “Magic, in me? I doubt that very much,” he contradicted, and not for the first time, not believing the crone. There was nothing particularly special or interesting about him as far as he could tell. He was just one of many villager boys who helped his parents around their cottage, performing chores to help make life easier for his mother and father. He was expected to care for their animals, feeding them and collecting the eggs their chickens laid. He attended the village school as the other village children did and was able to read and write. He knew of the village’s history and how it had come to be when it had been established by a man by the name of Enzo, who had led his family away from an oppressive ruler overseas, seeking freedom to live without toiling away in fields for the profit of another. Enzo had built the first cottage and offered sanctuary to any seeking it, willingly allowing those who wished to live in freedom to settle around him and his family - his wife and children, who consisted of five strapping sons and two daughters. As those seeking the sanctuary Enzo offered made their way to his settlement, the lone cottage grew to two and then five and then eventually into a thriving village where he had been born and called home. It was all he knew about the world, and he was fine with that, knowing he would grow old in the village and eventually die there, being buried with his family when the time came. At the tender age of sixteen, he’d already made peace with that fact, and he took comfort in knowing he would eventually see his parents again when it was his time. The sound of the crone’s voice, scratchy and tired-sounding, pulled him from his inner thoughts. Blinking to clear away his thoughts, comforting to him and morose to others, he looked up at Matilda, smiling a dimpled smile at the crone, ever respectful. 

“You may be in doubt, but it’s true,” Matilda said sagely, staring into the boy’s multicolored eyes, seeing such innocence looking up at her. “It’s faint, but it is there.” She lifted her right hand off Jared’s shoulder she placed it over the boy’s heart. “Right here. I feel it. As you grow, so will your magic. Just wait and see, young one. You’ll see how right I am.” She was confident in her prediction, just as she was fearful for it to come to pass. The child standing before her, looking up at her with such innocence radiating from him, also had immense magic buried deep inside him, and when it broke free, Jared would need a way to anchor himself to his magic, or it would inevitably be his downfall. Whether Jared’s magic consumed him to the point of causing the boy’s death was unknown to her, but she did know that she had to do whatever she could to help Jared prevent it. The first would be to train the boy, starting with how to create magical charms to help ward off anyone trying to do him or the village harm, as she had once she had been allowed to settle in the village. Well, on the outskirts of it, but she was still offered the villagers’ help in return for her charms and protection and she would continue to do so until it was her time to pass into the great beyond where she would watch over Jared through the veil, never purposely interfering, but guiding the boy when he was in need. 

“Yes, ma'am,” Jared agreed, knowing it was useless to protest further. “Mama asked me to bring you this.” He held up the basket containing the freshly baked bread his mother had pulled from their oven not an hour ago. His mother had wrapped it tightly in paper and twine and had charged him with traipsing through the village and into the woods where Matilda’s cottage stood on the outskirts amongst the wildflowers he would pick for the crone on his way to see her and for his mother on his return trip home. He knew Matilda had a penchant for the Purple Coneflower that drew butterflies and hummingbirds to the flower with its large, showy daisy-like bloom that grew in clumps along the well-worn trail that stretched from the edge of the village to the crone’s cottage. Whereas, his mother loved the beauty of Blanket Flower, which drew bees and butterflies to it for its nectar with its vibrant orange and red blooms that reminded his mother of a fire’s dancing flame. He wasn’t sure what had drawn him to the flowers or what had him picking the Purple Coneflower to give to the crone versus the Blanket Flower for his mother, but according to Matilda, the blossoms had spoken to the magic within him and led him to pick them. He’d just thought the crone would like them and that the Coneflowers would brighten up her cottage, and that the Blanket Flowers would bring a smile to his mother’s face, which they had on both accounts. Both the crone and his mother had smiled each time he brought the flowers to them. It wasn’t out of the norm for him to bring little presents to his mother. He had done that for as long as he could remember, but he hadn’t done something like that for the crone before. The first time he’d knocked on Matilda’s door and held out the flowers to her, offering them to her, he’d felt excited and self-conscious. He could still remember the look on the crone’s face when the door to her cottage swung open and Matilda stood there looking down at him, how she had smiled at him. “These are for you,” he announced, holding out the flowers that were starting to wilt. 

“What a nice surprise,” Matilda said, her wrinkled and bony hand snaking out to grasp the boy’s chin, a smile spreading across her face. “Such a sweet and unexpected surprise from such a thoughtful boy. Thank you,” she praised, stepping aside to allow the boy entrance into her cottage. “Purple Coneflowers, my favorite. How did you know?” she asked, softly closing the front door. 

Jared shrugged and then looked down at the flowers clutched in his hand. “I just saw them… As soon as I did… I just thought of you,” he admitted and then placed the flowers in the crone’s outstretched hand, his dimpled smile falling from his face when he saw the flowers had begun to wilt.

“There’s no need for such a long face,” Matilda teased, seeing the boy’s smile faltering. Turning away from Jared, she fetched a glass from the cabinets and pumped some water into it before placing the wilted flowers inside. “Watch,” she urged while she set the glass containing the flowers on the table. 

Watching intently, Jared saw the crone twirl her fingers over the wilting blooms, seeing them perk up, looking as fresh as when he’d picked them. He raised his eyes off the flowers and to the crone, astonished. “How… How did you do that?”

Chuckling, Matilda reached out and placed a hand on Jared’s shoulder. “Magic, dear boy, magic. It’s all around us and for some of us, it resides within us.”

“It does?” Jared asked in awe. 

“It does,” Matilda confirmed. “It resides in me and you.”

“I don’t understand.” Jared looked up at the crone, wide-eyed. He looked over at the flowers and then up at Matilda again. “You think I can do something like that?” he asked, pointing at the flowers on the table. 

“I don’t think you can, I know you can, or will in time,” the crone said knowingly before changing the subject so as not to overwhelm the boy. “Now, what else have you brought me, child?” Letting go of Jared, she pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, sighing when she settled into it, feeling as if her long life was catching up with her, making her weary when she still had so much to do. Jared’s magic had yet to manifest, and at such a late age, the boy would need all the help and training she could provide him with. 

Smiling, Jared sat in the chair opposite the crone and placed the basket on the table, carefully pulling out the bread his mother had baked and setting it down on the table. “Mama sent you bread.” Reaching into the basket, he pulled out a jar and set it down next to the bread. “She also sent you the strawberry jam. I picked the strawberries from our garden,” he said with a dimpled smile on his face. Reaching back into the basket, he pulled out the last item, a set of beeswax candles. “Mrs. Clemons asked Mama to include these. She told me to tell you they’re for payment and that the salve worked.” He scrunched his face up in confusion, clearly not understanding what a salve and beeswax candles had to do with each other, and then shrugged, giving up on trying to figure it out, deciding it was something between the adults.

“Well, you tell your mother thank you for her kindness and for sending such a pleasant boy to deliver the bread and jam for me. Those are most welcome. As for the candles,” the crone waved a wrinkled hand at them. “Those are what Mrs. Clemons and I agreed on for payment of my services. So that is acceptable.” She chuckled humorously and then shifted in her chair. “Tell me, Jared, what did your mother promise you to get you to come all this way?” she asked, watching as the boy looked back at her in confusion.

“Promise me?” Jared inquired, clearly not understanding the crone’s question.

“Yes? Did she promise you a sweet dessert, perhaps something she doesn’t bake for you too often, if you came in her place to deliver these items to me?” The crone knew most of the villagers refused to step foot in her cottage unless her services were desperately needed. Certainly, the children of the village were fearful of her, but also wise enough not to harass her in any way. 

Understanding dawned in Jared’s eyes, his mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ when he understood what the crone had asked him. “Nothing, I offered to come,” he admitted. 

“Offered?” the crone repeated, questioning validity. Jared’s parents had always shown her respect, and never shied away from her, being the only people from the village to ever visit her cottage. Now, Jared sat across from her, and she found it intriguing. 

“Yes, ma’am…”

“Matilda,” the crone corrected. “You call me Matilda, not ma’am. You understand me, child?” She’d never been one to stand on ceremony, and at this stage of her life, she wasn’t about to start now. 

“Yes, ma’... Matilda,” Jared agreed, correcting himself before he made the mistake of calling the crone ma’am again and possibly angering her. 

With her bony hand on her chin, the crone looked Jared over, assessing him and wondering when the boy’s magic would make itself known, most likely manifesting in a way that probably no one would expect. She’d seen it happen before, years ago when she’d been known as the maiden with smooth, unblemished skin, bright and cheerful eyes, a ready smile for those who sought her out, and hair that had been flaxen, not the dishwater gray it had turned to. Still, she was proud of the life she’d lived, maiden, mother, and now crone. The three phases of her life were lived to their fullest, but not nearly as over as she had expected, still knowing she was reaching the end of her long existence. The child sitting before her, Jared, would be the last witch she trained, that she knew with a certainty that settled heavily in her bones. Jared would be a challenge; that was something else she knew for certain. The magic within him was locked away, buried deep beyond where she could reach it, and it would take more than some gentle persuasion to coax it to the surface. “Tell me about yourself, child.” She needed to know more about the boy sitting opposite her. She knew his parents and had never picked up on any magical ability in either of them, and knowing that magic was passed by blood, down through the bloodline from one family member to the other, she was surprised and intrigued by this turn of events. 

“Tell you about myself,” Jared repeated, scrunching his face up in thought. There wasn’t much to tell. He was just a sixteen-year-old village boy. His life wasn’t interesting. He didn’t have siblings. His parents, while loving, were hardworking, but fair. He toed the line as was expected of him, and he did his best to never cause trouble or shame his parents. Shrugging, he said, “There’s not much to tell. I’m just me.”

“Interesting,” the crone murmured, looking into Jared’s multicolored eyes. “Well, ‘just me’, answer me this: did you not fear coming here like the rest of the village children? Were you not afraid of the big, bad witch who might tear the flesh from your bones?” 

Jared couldn’t help the chuckle that made it past his lips. “My parents said you help people, not hurt them. Tearing the flesh from my bones means you’d be hurting me and I…” Sitting up straighter, he looked the crone over, knowing that despite her small size and her age, she was not to be trifled with. Even as a crone, she was formidable and deserved his respect. But he also saw kindness in her, and something deep within him was telling him he had nothing to fear from her, just as it had told him to pick the Purple Coneflowers for her on the way here and was telling him to pick the Blanket Flower for his mother on the way back to the village and his home. “I don’t think you want to hurt me or anyone in the village, not unless they deserve it. You just want to live in peace and help those who come to you.”

A wide smile spread across the crone’s face, reaching her eyes and lighting them from within. “Perceptive,” she said, agreeing with what the boy had just said to her. “Very perceptive. Now, what am I going to do with you? Hmm?” Bringing her bony hand to her face, she stroked her fingers over her chin, never taking her eyes off the boy sitting across from her. “I think I’ll train you. Teach you what I can… Share my knowledge of the arts with you so that you will be better prepared for when your magic finally manifests itself.” She raised her hand, stopping Jared from protesting. “Oh, child, mark my words, your magic will manifest itself. It’s just a question of when. It’s best for all that you know how to handle your abilities as best as you can.”

“I don’t mean to contradict you, but I don’t have any magic. You’ll only be wasting your time,” Jared said, persistent that the crone was wrong in her assumptions that he had magic and that she could teach him. “I’m happy to return, to visit with you and run errands for you if you need me to, but training me… Teaching me… It’ll only be useless and frustrating for us both.”

Pointing her bony right index finger at Jared, the crone gave him a toothy grin. “You let me worry about that. It’s my time to waste, is it not?” the crone asked, her grin growing wider when she saw the young boy nod in agreement.

“Ye… Yes, it is,” Jared stated, suddenly filled with the knowledge that no matter what he said, no matter how much he protested or tried to contradict the crone, he would end up finding himself under her tutelage anyway. It would be easier for him to give in and let the crone train him until she realized how frustrating and useless it would be, and that no matter what she showed him, he would never master anything because she was wrong and gave up once it was proven that he had no magic in him. 

“You’re right, it is. Now, let’s stop talking about this because it’s settled. I will teach you. You will learn and you will be ready for when your abilities manifest themselves.” Pushing herself away from the table, she got to her feet, gathered the items Jared had brought her in her thin arms, and opened one of the cabinets. After storing the items for later, she moved back, stood next to Jared, and met the boy’s curious eyes. “Watch.” Closing her eyes, she dropped her hands to her sides and mouthed a word that Jared couldn’t make out.

Wide-eyed, Jared watched the crone, his eyes steadily on the small woman before him, taking in her long gray hair and her thin, frail-looking frame shrouded in a black wool shawl and a deep green nightgown that fell to the floor, covering her feet with the sleeves billowing at her wrists, knowing that was just a pretense she manifested because despite her age and frailty, she was more powerful than the people of the village could even imagine. 

“You’re not watching,” the crone stated matter-of-factly, never opening her eyes or looking at Jared. “Or rather, you’re watching the wrong thing.” The right side of her lips twitched into a one-sided smirk as she raised her right arm once she was sure the boy’s eyes were no longer on her but on the cabinet. With a flick of her wrist, the cabinet doors closed on their own.

Taking his eyes off the crone when she raised her arm, Jared focused on the open cabinet doors, watching as they closed by themselves, and gasped. He scrambled from his chair in shock, nearly knocking his chair over when it teetered on its legs. “Wow!” he uttered, awed by the crone’s show of magical ability. “You… You… Wow!” he stammered, waving his arms at the crone and then the cabinet. His excitement at seeing the crone’s display of magic soon gave way to self-doubt, knowing there was no way he had magic in him. “You’re wrong, there’s no way I’ll ever be able to do that,” he said with a wave of his hands at the closed cabinet doors and then slapped his hands over his mouth, looking at the crone with wide, fearful eyes. 

Turning to face Jared, the crone tossed her head back and cackled, her laughter sounding brittle when it reverberated off the cottage walls. “Not now, you’re right about that, but you will.” With another flick of her wrist, the broom that had been propped up in the corner flew to her, fitting into her open hand.

“Are you… Are you able to fly? Are you… Are you going to ride the broom? Soar over the village?” Jared stammered, fear and awe warring within him. He felt the desire to step back from the crone but knew there was nothing to fear from her or her magic, reminding himself that his instincts were right about Matilda. That she had no intention of hurting him, his mother, and father, or anyone in the village. 

Matilda threw back her head, her long veil of hair moving side to side with the shaking of her shoulders while she laughed. “My dear boy, you are full of idle nonsense,” she said when she finally managed to stop cackling. Clutching the broom to support herself, she turned her eyes on Jared. Smiling, she tilted her head to the side and, with her free hand, motioned to Jared to join her.

Wide-eyed and fearing that he’d just offended the crone with his thoughtless words, Jared sat there waiting for Matilda to berate him and send him packing with a warning that she intended to speak to his parents about his callousness. When he heard the crone cackling, some of his fear eased until Matilda motioned for him to join her. Getting to his feet, he scrambled quickly to her side, wondering if the crone was about to hit him with the broom. To his amazement, the crone held the broom out to him. With shaking hands, he accepted the offered broom, holding it close to him, his fingers clenching and unclenching nervously around the broom’s handle while he stood there waiting for Matilda to speak.

“Dear boy, you are a breath of fresh air,” Matilda tittered. “I don’t know where you or any of the other village children got this notion that I or any other witch could fly atop a broom… But I thank you for the laugh. It has been quite some time since I have laughed like that. And to answer your question, no, I will not be flying. I will leave that to the birds. They are more suited to that than you or I. The broom is for sweeping the floor and removing any cobwebs, which is what you will be doing for me today.”

Jared looked at the crone and then down at the broom clutched in his hands. Matilda intended for him to sweep away the dirt and cobwebs from her cottage. That was something he could do, yet he was struck by the sheer simplicity of the crone’s request. Surely Matilda’s magic would encompass such a mundane feat as housecleaning. Or was this a test? Was the crone testing him? He was unsure of what to make of the crone’s request for him to sweep away the cobwebs, dirt, and dust.

When Jared remained unmoving, seemingly rooted to the floor, Matilda waved a bony hand at the boy, urging him to move. “You do know how to use a broom, do you not?”

“Ye… Yes,” Jared stammered, blinking rapidly at the crone. It wasn’t the first time he’d held a broom or swept a floor, having done such a chore when asked of him by one of his parents.

“Well then,” Matilda waved her hand at the floor and then stepped back, waiting for Jared to move before returning to sit in her chair.

“Right,” Jared murmured, lowering the broom’s bristles to the floor. Adjusting his grip on the broom handle, he began to sweep, using careful and small movements so he wouldn't send the dust and dirt skittering across the cottage’s floor, making him have to repeat his steps. With sure footing, he made his way from one end of the cottage to the other, using small back-and-forth swinging arcs to sweep away the accumulated dirt and dust, combing it all into one neat pile by the front door. Pulling open the door, he swept the dirt out onto the porch and then swept it into the grass before returning to finish the task given to him by the crone. When he was done with what the crone had asked of him, he returned the broom to its resting place and then reclaimed his seat, wondering if the crone would ask anything else of him. 

“Thank you for your help today. Please tell your mother I appreciate her kindness. The bread and jam will be eaten for breakfast. Now, when will you be back?” Matilda asked, sitting back in her chair to regard Jared. She watched as the boy’s multicolored eyes darted up to look at her and then around the room, making her smile. “Come now, did you think I’d let such an able-bodied boy like yourself get out of helping me and also being taught the magic he needs to understand?”

“I just thought… I don’t have any magic,” Jared said, repeating his earlier protest, wondering why the crone was so adamant about an ability he didn’t possess.

Pointing a gnarled and bony finger at Jared, Matilda said firmly, “Ah, but you do. I’m not wrong on this. So, you will come to see me again. You’ll know the time when it is right, and I will see you then.”

“Yes, Matilda,” Jared agreed, knowing there was no point in arguing with the crone. Something deep within him was whispering to him, telling him that the crone was correct in her assumption that he would be back. Understanding that Matilda’s words were the dismissal they had intended to be, he got to his feet, pushed in the chair he’d been sitting on, and then picked up the basket he’d brought with him. “Have a good rest of your day,” he said softly when he walked past the crone, heading to the cottage’s door.

“I will see you soon,” Matilda called out, not moving from the chair, listening to the sound of Jared’s footsteps echoing across the cottage. She heard the cottage’s door being opened and closed, and then sat back in her chair. Raising her steepled hands to her face, she tapped her fingers against her lips. “That boy has no idea of the magic locked within him. It will only be a matter of time before something happens and he comes into his magic. I just hope I have enough time to train him,” she said to the empty cottage, her voice reverberating off the wooden walls.

That had been Jared’s first visit to the crone’s cottage, but certainly not his last. What had been surprising to Jared and his parents was the knock on their cabin’s door one evening while they were seated around the table eating the dinner his mother had prepared for them. Looking up from his plate in surprise, he looked first at his mother and then at his father to see them exchanging looks of confusion. Before his parents had a chance to say a word, he placed his spoon down and got to his feet. “I’ll see who’s at the door,” he said. Not waiting for his parents’ approval, he made his way to the cabin’s door and pulled it open. He stood there blinking in surprise at the person who had turned up unexpectedly on their doorstep. “Matilda,” he whispered, looking at the crone wrapped in a gray shawl that seemed to envelop her tiny body, his mouth gaping, unmoving.

“Jared, who is it?” Gerald, Jared’s father, called out.

“Boy, close your mouth before you swallow a fly,” Matilda chided, smiling up at Jared, amused by the look of shock on his young face.

“Jared, who’s there?” Sharon, Jared’s mother, asked.

“Are you going to step aside and allow me the courtesy of being invited into your home?” Matilda inquired in a teasing tone, watching as Jared slowly closed his mouth and then nodded to her.

As if his senses had returned, Jared nodded. “Ye… Yes,” he stammered and then cleared his throat. Stepping aside, still holding the door open, he said, “Please, would you like to come in?”

“Thank you,” Matilda replied with a nod, slowly moving past Jared and inside to be greeted by the warmth of the Padalecki cabin. 

“Please, may I take your shawl?” Jared asked after closing the cabin door, knowing that his parents would be disappointed in him if he didn’t show the crone respect in their home and do what he could to make her feel comfortable. 

Turning to look up at Jared, Matilda smiled. “Thank you, but no. These old bones of mine feel the cold too easily.”

Rising from their chairs, Sharon and Gerald exchanged a concerned glance between them before Jared’s mother stepped forward. “Matilda, this is a surprise!” She made her way over to the crone and wrapped her arms around Matilda’s frail body. “A welcome one, but still a surprise,” she admitted as she pulled away from the crone. “Please, sit.” She motioned to the empty chair, nodding at her husband.

Gerald moved to pull out the chair, standing with his hands on the back of it while he waited for the crone to sit.

“Thank you, you are too kind to an old woman,” Matilda said, patting Gerald’s hand before she sat. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner…”

“Please, we would be honored if you’d join us,” Gerald offered genuinely. He nodded at Jared, watching as his son took a few hesitant steps toward the pot of stew that had been left on the wood-burning cookstove.

Moving slowly at first, Jared made his way over to the cookstove to ladle out a helping of the stew into a bowl. He carefully carried it over to the table in his hands and set the bowl and spoon down in front of Matilda. Taking a step back, he waited for his parents to reclaim their seats before sitting down. Picking up his spoon, he idly pushed it around his stew, glancing over at the crone, wondering why she had decided to pay their home a visit. Had he done something to upset her when he had been at her cottage a few days ago? He’d thought he’d been respectful, despite contradicting the crone over her belief that he had magic within him. He’d done what the crone had asked of him. Maybe his work had been lacking. The sound of his mother’s voice pulled him from his spiraling thoughts. 

“Matilda, how can we help you?” Sharon asked, knowing that there had to be a reason for the crone to show up unannounced at their cabin. 

“It is not you who can help me, but I who can help you,” Matilda announced smugly, settling into the chair she was sitting on. 

“I don’t understand,” Sharon replied, shaking her head. 

Looking over at Jared, Matilda smirked. “You didn’t tell your parents what we spoke about?”

“No, ma’... No, Matilda,” Jared admitted, feeling his cheeks beginning to burn from embarrassment at being called out by the crone. He hadn’t thought to mention to his parents that the crone told him he possessed magic because he didn’t. There was nothing magical about him. 

Sitting back in his chair, Gerald regarded his son. “Jared, is there something you would like to explain to your mother and me?”

“Please, Matilda, let me apologize for whatever it is our son may have done to upset you,” Sharon offered.  

Matilda held up a hand, stopping Sharon from speaking further. “There is nothing to apologize for. Now, let the boy speak, my dear.” While waiting for Jared to speak, she picked up her spoon and began to eat the stew the boy had placed before her. 

“Jared, what is it you have neglected to tell us?” Gerald asked, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table to meet his son’s wide eyes. While he doubted whatever Jared had kept to himself was harmful, it was surprising that his son hadn’t been forthcoming. 

“I… I… I’m sorry I disappointed you,” Jared whispered, not looking up at his parents, keeping his eyes on the bowl of stew before him.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t disappoint us. We’re just confused. It’s not like you to keep something from us,” Sharon said reassuringly, urging Jared to speak to them. She had never known their son not to be honest and truthful with them. 

Hearing the soft way his mother spoke to him, Jared dared to look up, meeting his mother’s concerned eyes. Nodding, he set aside his spoon and said, “Matilda told me I have magic.” Seeing the shared looks of surprise mixed with panic on his parents’ faces, he rushed to add, “I didn’t say anything because I don’t. There’s nothing magical about me.”

“I am never wrong about such matters,” Matilda stated, pushing aside her empty bowl. 

“How can this be?” Gerald inquired, looking first at the crone and then at his wife. “There is no magic user in my family. Do you know of one in yours?”

Shaking her head, Sharon responded, “No, there has never been a magic user in my family.”

“There is, and he’s sitting across from you,” Matilda pointed out, smiling widely at Sharon and Gerald, doing her best not to chuckle at their shared looks of disbelief. 

“I’m sorry…” Jared started to say, unsure of what he was apologizing for. Was it because he’d kept what the crone had said to him a secret from his parents, or was it because Matilda was wrong about him? None of this made any sense to him. How could he possess magic when there was no one before him from either side of his family who had magic in them? 

“Child, don’t be sorry,” Matilda chided. “Be proud! You are a witch.”

“But I’m not,” Jared whispered, hoping his protest would finally mean something now that he was contradicting the crone in front of his parents. He looked up at his parents, silently pleading with them to talk some sense into Matilda, who was clearly mistaken about him. He wasn’t magical, he didn’t possess magic, and he never would. “Please..”

Gerald held up his hand, silencing Jared. Turning to face the crone, he asked, “How can you be sure that our son is a witch?”

“I can feel it as surely as I’m sitting here in your home. Magic calls to magic. It recognizes it within others,” Matilda explained.

“How is this even possible?” Shared questioned, looking fearfully at Matilda and then at Jared. The fear wasn’t because of the possibility that the crone was correct, that Jared possessed magic. No, the fear was for her son’s safety. How could she and her husband possibly keep Jared safe not only from himself but from others who might fear what he was capable of doing? “How can it be that our son possesses magic when there has never been anyone within our combined families who has ever been magical? No one has a drop of magic in their blood.”

“Magic has been known to skip generations. That is true. Magic will lend itself to only those within a family it feels is worthy. For many families, their magical inheritance runs dry because there is no one worthy enough in that bloodline to possess it,” Matilda explained. She held up a bony hand, stopping Sharon and Gerald from speaking and questioning her. “But there are instances where magic takes root in one where there has never been magic before. It’s rare. Very rare, but it happens from time to time. I suspect this is what has happened in Jared’s case.”

“But he has never demonstrated any magical abilities,” Sharon stated, finding it difficult to believe what the crone had just informed them about Jared.

“He’s just an average boy,” Gerald pointed out, looking at his son and seeing only the boy he loved with all his heart.

Shaking her head and smirking, Matilda said, “There is nothing average about this boy. His magic has not made itself known to Jared or others, but it will. And when it does, we must be ready.”

“What is it you want?” Gerald inquired, fearing the worst, that the crone would demand that he and his wife hand over their only child to her.

“You don’t mean to take our son from us…” Sharon’s voice cracked as she spoke those words, knowing there would never be a time when she or her husband would willingly give their child to the crone. 

Jared looked at his mother, his world tilting on its axis when he heard her utter those words. How could he be expected to leave the only home he’d ever known to follow the crone into the woods and live a life without the ones he loved? If that was what the crone intended, he would refuse. 

“Let’s not be so dramatic, my dear,” Matilda chided, chuckling. “I would never ask that of you. No, I only want to train Jared. Ready him for when his magic manifests itself so he is capable of controlling it, yielding it, using it as it is intended to be used so he is not a danger to himself or others.”

“What would this offer entail?” Gerald asked, reaching out to take his wife’s hand in his, offering Sharon the comfort he knew she needed at that moment.

“Jared would visit with me. I will teach him all that I can, and in turn, he will learn from me. My offer is not as earth-shattering as either of you fears. Do we have an agreement?” Matilda asked, searching Sharon’s and Gerald’s faces for understanding that this was necessary for Jared’s survival.

“And when would you expect Jared to start?” Sharon inquired.

“After the full moon.”

“That’s in three days,” Gerald pointed out.

“Yes, and that will give you the time needed to accept that Jared possesses magic.”

“What if I don’t want this?” Jared blurted out, suddenly feeling as if his entire world was crashing down around him and that no one seemed to care what he wanted. 

“Jared!” Sharon admonished, shocked by her son’s outburst.

“No one has asked me what I want or how I feel about this,” Jared grumbled, pointing out that one fact.

“Jared, you will not be disrespectful to us or a guest in this house,” Gerald reprimanded.

“Everyone is talking about me. No one is talking to me.”

Leaning forward, Matilda met Jared’s upset eyes. “So, if you were to be asked, if I were to offer to teach you, what would your answer be?”

Jared sat in his chair, chewing on his bottom lip while he contemplated the question posed to him by the crone. Now that he had been asked, he wasn’t sure what his answer would be. Had this offer been forced upon him, he would have refused. Now, he wasn’t too sure. He looked up into his mother’s soft eyes and saw love reflected in them, not fear or hatred. Searching his father’s eyes, he saw the same reflected in him, giving him the encouragement he needed to speak for himself. “My answer would be yes. If I have magic within me, as you say I do, then I need to be taught how to control it so I never hurt anyone.” The thought of hurting his parents, even by accident, was enough to make his heart beat rapidly, making him shudder. No, he could never let that happen, even though he still believed that the crone was mistaken.

Sitting back in her chair, Matilda placed her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers. “Then it is settled. You will come to my cottage after the full moon, and we will start your tutelage.”

“Is this what you really want, Jared?” Gerald asked, ready to defend his son and refuse the crone’s offer.

“Yes,” Jared said firmly. 

Getting to her feet, Matilda wrapped the shawl tightly around her bony shoulders. “Well then, Jared, I will see you on the agreed-upon day. Until then,” she said, leaving the cabin without waiting for a reply from Jared or his parents. 

Jared sat there with his hands in his lap and his chin tucked to his chest, trying to figure out what he was going to do. He’d just given his word that he would make his way to the crone’s cottage to start his training. How was he going to survive this training when he didn’t have magic? The sound of his father’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, forcing him to look up.

“Jared, are you sure about this? If you want, I’ll speak with the crone, tell her you’re not ready…”

“No…” Jared started to say, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I gave Matilda my word. I’ll go. I’m sure that after only a few days of trying to train me, she’ll realize it’s a waste of her time because I don’t have any magic.” At that point, he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince, himself or his father. Surely, Matilda had to be wrong. Maybe the crone was confused; that was all he could come up with. “May I be excused?” he asked, having long ago lost his appetite and now all he wanted was to retreat to his room.

“Of course, Jared. Go, sweetheart, and try not to dwell on things. I’m sure everything will work out in the end,” Sharon said sympathetically.

“Thank you,” Jared whispered, pushing himself away from the table and getting to his feet. He started to pick up his bowl but stopped when he heard his father telling him not to worry about cleaning up after himself. With a grateful smile, he left his bowl and disappeared from the table, taking the stairs that led upstairs to the second story of their cabin, where the bedrooms were. He made his way into his small room, closed the door behind himself, and then tossed himself down on his bed, not bothering to strike a match so he could light one of the candles by his bedside. He lay there, curled up on his bed, listening to the muffled movements of his parents from downstairs. He knew his parents were worried about him, having seen the look of fear in their eyes. They weren’t afraid of him, but for him, knowing what the implications of his being a possible magic user meant. While a witch’s talents were sought after, and almost every village had a witch of their own, they were still regarded with scorn and mistrust. People feared what they could not understand, and not many understood magic or how to use it. Hell, he didn’t, and supposedly, he was magical and destined to be a witch. He scoffed at that notion.

Jared wasn’t sure how long he lay on his bed in the dark, possibly drifting in and out of a restless sleep. He jolted in his bed when he heard footsteps outside his door and then the muffled sound of his parents’ voices. Quietly sitting up so his back was pressed against the wall, he strained to hear what his parents might be saying. 

“Gerald, what do we do?” Sharon asked, concerned for their only child.

“What can we do?” Gerald wondered, feeling at a loss, knowing they were at a point where neither of them had any answers. 

“Jared has never shown any magical abilities. How is this even possible?”

“My dearest, maybe the crone is wrong, as Jared has suggested. 

“She was so sure.”

“The crone has grown old. Maybe it is she who is losing her abilities and is seeing something in Jared that doesn’t exist,” Gerald suggested. 

“But what if she’s right? What if our son is destined to be a witch? Do you understand what this means for him? He will be looked upon with awe and contempt, the way Matilda is. I couldn’t bear that for Jared. He deserves to live a happy life… With a family of his own who loves him.”

“And he has that in us. Whether Jared possesses magic and is destined to become a witch makes no difference to me. He is our son, and I will stand by him.”

“But no woman will want him. No man in this village will allow our son to court and marry his daughter if Jared does possess magic and is, in fact, a witch, as Matilda proclaims. Jared will live a lonely existence.”

“Hush, dearest. We don’t know for sure if the crone’s assumptions are correct. As you’ve pointed out, Jared has never shown any magical abilities…”

“And if he does, then what?” Sharon persisted. “How can we expect Jared to find a wife amongst those here who fear the crone yet will do anything for her favors?”

“If it comes to that, then we will advertise for a wife for Jared. I’m sure we can find someone from another village who would be willing to marry our son, magic or no magic. Now, let’s be done with this worry over something I’m sure will not come to pass,” Gerald urged, leading Sharon into their bedroom for the night. 

Jared sat there, his parents’ words bouncing around in his head. His parents were already worried about him finding a girl to court at the age of sixteen. Something he wasn’t too sure he wanted. The boys his age and older than him seemed to catch his eye more than any girl did. So now, he had more to worry about than just the possibility of being a witch. His parents wanted to marry him off to a suitable girl, and that thought made his skin crawl more than the possibility of his being a witch. How he was going to survive any of this was the last thing on his mind as he finally drifted off to sleep, dreaming of faceless girls trying to kiss him and dancing broomsticks. 

When Jared woke the next morning and made his way downstairs, he found his parents sitting at the table waiting for him. Seeing them caused his feet to falter and his breath to stutter in his chest. “Mom… Dad…” he said hesitantly, feeling as if he was interrupting a serious conversation his parents were having about him.

“Jared, come sit,” Sharon urged, motioning for Jared to take his seat at the table with them. 

Reluctantly, Jared made his way over to the table and pulled out his chair. Sitting down, he looked at his parents, wondering what was going on. “Am I in trouble?” he asked, although if he was in trouble, he had no idea what he could have done. He’d gone to bed last night and never left his room. True, he’d overheard his parents’ conversation, but it wasn’t as if he’d actively been trying to hear what they were saying. His parents had been talking about him while standing outside his bedroom. Essentially, they had trapped him inside. It wasn’t his fault he’d heard them. 

“No, son, you’re not. We would just like to talk to you about a few things,” Gerald assured his son, smiling widely. 

“What things?” Jared inquired, his fingers gripping the edge of the table as his body was flooded with unease. He wasn’t sure he liked where this conversation might lead. 

“Things that might affect you and your future,” Sharon answered, taking her husband’s hand in what she hoped would look like a united front to Jared. They only had their son’s best interests at heart, and she wanted to convey that to Jared. 

“Okay,” Jared responded, feeling uncertain, building within him. 

“Your mother and I had a discussion last night,” Gerald explained. “Should what the crone predicted come to pass, we want you to know that our love for you will never change. You will always be our son. We would never deny you.”

Reaching across the table, Sharon held out her free hand to Jared, waiting for her son to place his within her grasp. “We love you so very much,” she assured Jared, squeezing her son’s hand. “Never doubt that.”

“And I love you both,” Jared said, his voice catching in his throat when he spoke.

“Should you truly be a witch as the crone predicted, just know that we are prepared to do whatever it takes to secure you a wife. We may have to search for one outside our village, but we will do our very best to make sure whoever it is you marry, it will be a marriage of love,” Gerald explained, watching as Jared’s face paled. “Jared, we’re not expecting you to choose a wife today, or any time soon, for that matter. We just wanted you to know that we have considered your future and have an idea in place.”

Pulling his hand out of his mother’s grasp, Jared looked down at the table, wondering how he could explain things to his parents. He felt as if he was being rushed to admit something to his mother and father that he hadn’t quite admitted to himself yet. 

“Jared, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Sharon prompted when she noticed the change in her son, how he had suddenly gone pale and seemed to be turning in on himself. “Is there a girl in the village that you already have your eye on?” She looked at Gerald. “Maybe we should propose a marriage now before anyone discovers that Jared is being trained by the crone. Even if he has no magical ability, if everyone thinks he might, our son will have no chance.”

Nodding, Gerald agreed, “Jared, tell us, who is this girl that has caught your eye? We’ll speak with her parents today. Secure a marriage with her. It would be something we threw together quickly before the full moon, but we will do our best to make it happen for you.”

Jared’s head snapped up. Wide-eyed, he looked at his parents. It felt as if his heart was beginning to beat out of his chest. His thoughts were swirling in his head, and he could feel himself beginning to shake. 

“Jared, sweetheart, just tell us her name and we’ll deal with everything else,” Sharon assured Jared.

“No!” Jared responded, the word bursting past his lips before he could stop himself. 

“Jared!” Sharon admonished, surprised by her son’s sudden outburst. 

“No?” Gerald asked, raising an eyebrow at his son. “Explain yourself.”

“There is no girl,” Jared said quietly, looking down at the table as if it had just become the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. 

“Sweetheart, that’s fine. When you do feel so inclined, we’ll do our best to see that she sees you for you and not as a witch.”

“Mom, there is no girl. There never will be a girl. Not for me. Not when… Not when I think I like the same sex as me,” Jared whispered and then braced himself for his parents' outrage and disgust. 

Sharon exchanged a look of surprise with Gerald and then said, “Jared, are you sure about this?”

Jared raised his head, his multicolored eyes widening as he thought over his mother’s question. Before he could answer, he heard his father speaking to him.

“I think what your mother means is that you’re still young. Maybe one of the village girls hasn’t caught your eye yet. There’s still time,” Gerald explained, smiling weakly at Jared, trying to ease any hurt between his son and his wife.

Biting down on his lower lip, Jared shook his head. While he was only sixteen years old, on the cusp of becoming a man, he knew where his interests lay, and it wasn’t what some termed as the fairer sex. He didn’t want a girl who would eventually become a woman in his bed. 

“Okay, then,” Sharon said, not knowing what else to say, fearing that if she spoke more on the subject, she might cause friction between her son and herself, something she couldn’t bear to have happen. When she saw Gerald looking at her, she shrugged her shoulders.

“Jared, it makes no difference to us who you love,” Gerald stated calmly. “We love you no matter what. If you find a nice boy to settle down with, just know whoever that person is will be welcomed into our family with open arms.”

Jared looked up at his father through his bangs. “Really?” he questioned, still feeling uncertain over his parents’ reactions. “You… You don’t hate me?”

Reaching across the table, Sharon grabbed Jared’s hand. “No, never, my sweet boy. We could never hate you. There is enough room in our hearts to love you just the way you are.”

“Even if I prefer the same sex as myself, and it turns out that I’m a witch?”

Offering his hand to Jared, Gerald said, “Even if you were purple and had wings.”

Feeling his mood shift and the unease he’d been harboring begin to fade, Jared tossed his head back and laughed, suddenly imagining himself with purple skin and wings. 

“Now, I think we should end this discussion and have breakfast. It just so happens that I have some strawberry jam,” Sharon announced, smiling at Jared. “I think it will go nicely with the biscuits, and after we’ve eaten, there is plenty of work to do around here.” Ignoring the groan coming from Jared, she got to her feet and made her way over to the kitchen to prepare their breakfast. Returning a few minutes later with a plate of biscuits and jam. “Eat up,” she urged. “There's plenty here to give you the energy needed to get the work done.”

Rolling his eyes, Jared grabbed one of the biscuits and the jam, slathering the sticky strawberry substance over the top and taking a bite. As he sat there with his parents, he felt safe and content for the moment, knowing in just a few short days things would change for him when he started learning how to use his nonexistent magic by the crone. 

Chapter Text

Taking a deep breath, Jared started walking the path that led to the crone’s cottage. With each step, he felt conflicted. Part of him wanted to turn and run in the opposite direction, while another part urged him on. The full moon had risen in the sky the night before, and when he woke that morning, he knew he had an obligation to fulfill. He had given the crone his word, and he intended to keep the promise he’d made to Matilda, sure that once she started training him, the crone would realize that he had no magic, that he wasn’t a witch, and that she had been wasting her time with him. The sooner that happened, the better off he’d be, and he could go back to being a normal sixteen-year-old village boy and not a witch in training.

Pushing aside that thought, Jared continued to walk the path until the crone’s cottage came into view. He stopped just at the clearing that led to the cottage, standing there looking at it, feeling a pull to walk toward it that he couldn’t explain. His uncertainty gave way to contentment while he stood there breathing in the rich scents of the forest around him. Taking another deep breath, he started walking, making his way to the porch and climbing the stairs so he could gently knock on the door. Raising his hand, he curled his fingers into a fist and was about to knock when the door swung open on its own, making his breath catch in his throat. “Hel… Hello,” he called out, unwilling to venture into the crone’s cottage uninvited.

“Jared, come in,” Matilda called out from somewhere within the cottage’s confines.

Jared took a few tentative steps inside, jumping when the door closed behind him on its own. He whirled around to look at it, cringing at his reaction. He forced himself to shake off his fear, knowing that the crone had no intention of hurting him. Turning at the sound of the crone’s laughter, he saw Matilda sitting in an overstuffed chair watching him. “How… How did you do that?” he croaked out.

“Magic, Jared, magic,” Matilda said as if that was the only explanation needed. Pushing slowly to her feet, she made her way over to Jared. “Come, let us go outside. The sun is shining and the day is warming up.”

Offering the crone his arm as he would any woman, Jared helped Matilda outside, stopping when she needed to, allowing the crone to guide him to where she wanted to take him. Their destination was a garden where the crone had them stop. Jared stood there, waiting for Matilda to explain what they were doing.

“This is just one of my gardens.” Matilda waved a hand at the garden before them. “Does anything stand out to you?”

Jared took a step closer, wanting to get a better look at the garden so he would be able to give the crone an answer. To him, it didn’t look like the garden his mother grew. There were no fruits, vegetables, or flowers growing. Turning to answer the crone, he said, “I don’t see fruit, vegetables, or flowers growing.”

Smiling, Matilda nodded. “That’s right. This is my herb garden. Many herbs have magical properties, as do some flowers and vegetables. Just about anything tied to nature has magic within it. Sometimes you just have to know what to look for and how to use it. Some herbs avail themselves readily to magical use, while others need to be coaxed. In time, you’ll come to know these differences and will be well-versed in how to go about using them and in which combination. Some herbs mix well with others, while at times mixing one with another could have disastrous effects, not just for you but for the one you might be making a potion, tincture, or salve for. You need to know and understand the herbs’ properties as well as come to have an understanding of the person you are helping and what their need truly is.”

“I don’t understand… I mean, I understand needing to know the different herbs and how to use them, but how am I supposed to know what a person needs?” Jared asked, his face scrunched up in confusion as he looked at Matilda, waiting for the crone to expound on what she’d just told him. 

“Ah, therein lies the quandary you will face. In time, you will come to understand. You must be keen of eye, true of heart, and above all else, trust in the magic you possess.”

Jared gave the crone a disbelieving look but remained silent on the topic of the magic he possessed. He’d already protested that he didn’t possess any magic, yet Matilda didn’t seem to want to believe him, and he knew that if he tried to contradict the crone, she would only assure him that he did indeed possess magic. The crone had made up her mind about him, and he knew that nothing he said would convince her otherwise. He would just have to let Matilda train him in magic until she finally realized he had none and gave up, admitted defeat, and let him go back to the life he’d been living. He had a feeling it would take time for that to happen, and he just hoped that when it did, there would be no lasting ill effects for him. 

Before Jared could say anything, Matilda continued speaking. “Those in the village will seek you out, telling you they need a potion, tincture, or whatever it is they’re looking for to soothe a broken heart or to persuade someone to fall in love with them.” She met Jared’s horrified eyes. “This is something you should never give in to. It goes against all laws of magic. Free will is not something to be messed with. A broken heart will heal on its own in time. If the person they seek to win the heart of is meant to be theirs, then true love and nature will take their course, and all will be as it should be. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Jared answered. “But why?”

“But why, what? Speak plainly to me.”

“But why would someone want you… Me to cast a spell or whatever they’re asking for to make someone fall in love with them, and can you really do that?” Jared asked, curious about the affairs of the heart, having never thought that what the crone had just said to him was even possible. 

“Because they let their hearts rule their minds. They convince themselves that they’re in love when it is only a fascination with the person. They believe that they’re meant to be, star-crossed lovers, or some such nonsense. They want what they can’t have and think that magic is the way to achieve it.” Raising her right hand, Malida shook her index finger at Jared. “It’s not and it never will be,” she advised firmly. “Make this vow to me, here and now, that you will never use your magic for such a thing.”

Feeling the scrutiny of the crone’s eyes on him. Jared shook his head, and then said, “I will never use my magic to take someone’s free will from them.” The thought of forcing someone against their will to unknowingly love another disgusted him.

“Good,” Matilda responded with a firm nod. “The other thing you must never dabble in is dealing with the dead. That is dark and dangerous magic and goes against everything that is natural. We are born, we live, and we die. That is the natural cycle of life. Some of us come into this world for only a brief time. Some of us come into this world and live a long life. It is the way it is meant to be. You must never upset the balance of nature. You must never call a person back from the dead, or even the edge of death. It is unnatural. Do you understand this?”

Jared recoiled in horror, having never before considered it possible to bring someone back from the dead. “Yes.”

“Promise me this is another vow you will uphold.”

“I promise. What is dead shall stay dead.” Jared could honestly say he would be true to that vow, as he would be to refusing to make someone fall in love against their will.

“Now, from time to time, you may be asked to pierce the veil, to converse with the dead. I have done it, and it is taxing. This should only be done on rare occasions,” Matilda advised.

“And how will I know what those are?” Jared asked, wondering why someone would want him to speak to the dead.

“In your heart, you will know when it is right and when it is wrong for you to pierce the veil. For some, it is to ease their pain from having lost a loved one. For others, it is so they might find something that was lost to them. Just remember this: never stay too long when speaking with the dead. Some are not aware that they have passed. They are confused and will latch on to you, thinking you can guide them home. You cannot. That is not what your magic is for. Those on the other side of the veil will deal with this. Some of the dead may try to manipulate you, trick you into helping them harm those who are still alive.” Matilda held up her hand when she saw that Jared was about to speak. “Why? Is that what you were about to ask?”

Jared nodded in response, his eyes wide when he realized that the crone seemed to know what he was thinking before he’d had a chance to speak.

“Who knows why the dead do what they do? It is not for us to figure out. Your only intent is to deliver the message asked of you. Nothing more. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes… And to be honest, I don’t think that’s something I’d ever want to do… Pierce the veil,” Jared admitted, shuddering at the thought of speaking with the dead. 

“That is up to you, but there may come a time when it is required of you to use your magic to do so. Always protect yourself when doing so.”

“How?”

“Salt. It will protect you and keep those who wish to harm you at bay. You will cast a circle of salt around you before you attempt to pierce the veil. This way, no one from the other side can latch onto you. You will learn all of this in time,” Matilda assured Jared. “But for now, you will weed the gardens and make yourself familiar with what grows in each one.”

“That’s it?” Jared huffed, annoyed with the task given to him. “That’s what you’re teaching me? How to weed your gardens?”

Matilda threw her head back in laughter. “Ah, dear boy, we all start at the bottom. That is only one of many lessons to be taught and learned.” She waved a hand at the herb garden. “Now, get started. Those weeds won’t pull themselves out of the ground,” she said before turning to make her way back into her cottage.

“Wait!” Jared called out. “Can’t you use your magic for something like this?”

Stopping, Matilda glanced over her shoulder at Jared to see a frustrated look on his face. “I could, but how will you ever learn to tend the gardens and become familiar with them if I do that?” Not waiting for Jared’s response, she turned and toddled off, disappearing around the corner of the cottage and out of Jared’s sight. 

Sighing heavily, Jared watched the crone wander off in the direction of her cottage. Once she was out of sight, he turned back to the herb garden, giving it a withering look. “I’m just her free help,” he grumbled, placing his hands on his hips and stomping his foot into the lush green grass. “That’s all she really wants is for someone else to do the work for her.” He took several calming breaths, knowing that he needed to rein in his growing annoyance at having been given yet another household chore to do for a home that wasn’t his. When his anger had passed, he walked over to the herb garden and got to work, pulling weeds that grew in between the mature plants, tossing them from the garden until there were no more to pull up. 

Standing back, Jared looked at the freshly weeded herb garden. He could feel his hair matted from sweat sticking to his head, making him feel uncomfortable. Raising his right hand to his head, he pushed his bangs out of his eyes and then raised his face to the midday sun, letting it dry his wet strands of hair. He was about to return to the cottage when he remembered the crone’s words: This is just one of my gardens . He groaned, knowing there was more weeding to do, and sought out the other gardens, finding a flower garden and a fruit and vegetable garden. Setting to work, he plucked and pulled weeds from each garden until only what was intended to grow in each was left. When he was done, he returned to the cottage, where he found the crone waiting for him with a cool drink of water and a plate of bread with jam set before an empty chair. He stood at the door, not daring to enter until invited in. 

“Jared, there is no need to stand on ceremony with me. You may come and go from my cottage freely without the need of an invitation,” Matilda said without looking up from the chair she was sitting in with a book open on her lap. 

Stepping inside the coolness of the cottage, Jared shivered, his body attempting to adjust from being outside and under the sun’s warm rays to the almost chilliness of being inside. He stood there, not wanting to assume the food and drink were for him, but desperately hoping they were. He forced himself to focus his attention on the crone and not the emptiness of his belly or the food set out on the table that seemed to call to him. 

“Jared, close the door and then sit and eat. You must be hungry after weeding the gardens.”

Doing as instructed, Jared quietly closed the door and then made his way over to the table to sit and eat. Before reaching for the bread and jam, he looked over at Matilda. “Thank you,” he said, watching the crone nod her acknowledgment before picking up the bread and slathering it with the strawberry jam. With how hungry he was after weeding three large garden patches, he savored the first bite, sitting there with his eyes closed as the sweetness of the jam burst over his tongue. With the first bite swallowed and his hunger urging him on, he opened his eyes and took another bite, eating three more slices of bread with jam and draining the water from his glass. 

“Hard work makes one hungry,” Matilda commented from her chair, still not moving from where she’d made herself comfortable. “You will find that everything worth doing comes from working hard, whether it is weeding a garden, cleaning the dust and cobwebs from your home, tending to the animals, and even learning and wielding magic.” 

Sitting back in his chair, Jared regarded Matilda, thinking about what the crone had just said to him. “Well, to be honest, I think it’s going to be harder for you than it is for me.”

Looking up from the book in her lap, Matilda gave Jared a surprised look and then asked, “Oh, and why is that?”

“Because I don’t have any magic. I’m not afraid of hard work. I’ve helped my parents with tending to the cabin, our animals, and our farm. So, it’s not about fearing hard work or not being willing to put in the work; I just think you’ll be wasting your time. Time that’s better spent on finding someone with magic that you can train,” Jared said matter-of-factly. “I can still come by and do any of the household chores that you might need help with. I don’t mind doing that,” he added and then waited for the crone’s reaction.

“I know you think you don’t have any magic within you, but let me assure you that you do,” Matilda responded firmly, certain that she was right and that when Jared’s magic finally manifested itself, it would do so in such a way as she had never seen before. “So, while you continue to tell yourself you have no magic, I will remain firm in my belief.”  

For two more years, Matilda remained firm, always telling Jared that he had magic within him that would one day finally manifest itself. For two years, Jared walked through the village, ignoring the taunts of those whom he used to call his friends. He would square his shoulders and pretend to be deaf when he heard the word witch shouted at him. He would ignore the snickering as he walked by. He ignored the looks of fear on some of the faces of those with whom he’d grown up with. The older villagers were more tolerant of him, but they still kept him at arm’s length. Even the boy, Thomas, who had become a man, the one who interested him, solidifying the knowledge that he was not interested in women for anything other than friendship gave him a wide berth when he passed by, making his heart sink with the realization that no one in his village would treat him the same way as they had before despite him still not having magic. He was known as the crone’s apprentice, and even when he tried to dispute that, pointing out that he didn’t possess magic and that he never would, no one listened to him. After the first few weeks of his visiting with Matilda, word had spread that the crone was training him. He couldn’t dispute that since it was true, and the friends he used to have backed away from him in fear. Bracing himself for the inevitable, Jared walked by a few of the village boys hanging around outside one of the stores, knowing what was about to happen since it seemed to always happen.

“Witch!” one of the boys, Davy, called out, making the other boys with him giggle and point at Jared. 

Stopping mid-stride, Jared turned back to Davy, smirking since he knew Davy’s mother quite frequently requested salves from the crone. Stepping closer to Davy, who he seemed to tower over, he said, “Is that all you got? Is that the best you can do?” Raising his head, he met the eyes of the other boys, looking at each of them before asking, “Anyone else have any witty comments they want to make at my expense?” With his hands on his hips, he watched the boys shrink back from him, and he had to school his features, forcing himself not to smile or laugh at their fear, knowing these boys, like most of the villagers, were only cowards, mocking him so they could feel better about themselves. 

“You’re still a witch,” Peter hissed, looking up definitely at Jared.

“So?” Jared asked, not bothering to correct the boy, knowing it was useless to waste his time or energy in doing so. These boys already believed he was a witch when he wasn’t, and no amount of protesting on his part would change their minds. Since he knew he wouldn’t be able to persuade them otherwise, he decided to embrace being called a witch and see where that led him. His reputation in their village was already tarnished from his association with the crone, so if he could gain anything from being called a witch and feared for no reason, he wasn’t above using it to his advantage. He watched the boys turn and run off, making him laugh. Turning back, he continued walking through the village, nodding to those who met his eye, keeping to himself otherwise until he made his way through the crop of trees that had begun to fill out, becoming more of a forest in the past two years, and to the clearing which led to the crone’s cottage. He felt a sense of relief at seeing the cottage, his anger and bitterness falling away as he closed the distance between himself and the porch, watching the door swing open in a silent invitation. With a smile, he climbed the stairs and entered the cottage, not even registering when the door swung closed on its own as it did every time he was inside. “Morning!” he called out when he didn’t see Matilda sitting in her usual spot, one of the overstuffed empty chairs. Seeing that both chairs were empty alarmed him. “Matilda!” he called out and then turned toward the bedroom door when he heard the shuffling of footsteps, relief flooding his body when he saw the crone stepping out from her bedroom. “There you are.”

“Where else would I be?” Matilda asked, teasing Jared. “Do you think that door just opens and closes on its own whenever you appear?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jared nodded. “Yes, I’m pretty sure it does just that whenever it senses me approaching the cottage.”

“Ah, someone’s a little cheeky today.” Matilda made her way over to one of the overstuffed chairs and eased herself into it, settling back and making herself comfortable. “What’s gotten into you?” she asked, looking up into Jared’s multicolored eyes. “Ah, I see, another run-in with those idiot village boys.” 

Even after two years, it still amazed Jared how Matilda was able to glean information just by looking at him. This ability of hers always made him wonder if this was a result of her magic, and if his magic ever manifested itself, would he also have this ability? “I’m not even going to ask how you know,” he said before joining the crone, sitting beside her. “But yes, I had another run-in. This time they were younger boys, but still…” He chewed on his bottom lip, lapsing into silence.

“You’re stronger than those boys. They fear what they don’t understand, or they’re envious of you.”

Jared’s brows furrowed when he considered what Matilda had just said to him. “Why? Why would they be envious of me? I’m not even a witch.”

“Because you will be one. You will hold such power in your hands, and they will not. This is something they envy.”

Knowing any of his protests about his magical abilities would be hushed, Jared nodded.

“We will continue your training. Today I will show you how to make some of the salves so you have an understanding of what goes into this.” Getting to her feet, Matilda led Jared over to her workstation, gathering herbs as she went along. “Hand me that bowl.” She pointed to a bowl on the table, watching Jared retrieve it for her.

“Here,” Jared said, offering the bowl and standing next to Matilda, watching the crone work. He knew the names of the herbs Matilda was using since he was well-versed in them after two years of being taught their names and properties by the crone. He watched Matilda slide the mortar and pestle toward him, knowing she wanted him to grind the herbs she was about to pass him. He dutifully ground the herbs, lavender, chamomile, and lemon balm until they were a fine powder and then poured them into the glass jars Matilda had placed in front of him. 

“Bring me the oil,” Matilda instructed, pointing to the fireplace where a pot had been placed and left hanging above the flames. 

“Sure,” Jared responded, picking up the mitts to protect his hands from the fire and heat of the pot. 

“Pour the oil just enough to cover the herbs.” 

Jared carefully did as instructed, pouring the hot oil mixed with beeswax into the jars and covering the herbs. Setting the pot back over the flames, he capped the jars and then carried them over to the cabinet where they would be kept for a month. Returning to Matilda’s side, he followed the crone’s instructions on how to make a drawing salve many used to coax splinters out of their skin using dandelion, and then a salve made from frog leaf to aid with infections.

“I’d say this was a good day,” Matilda announced after the salves had been made and her workstation had been cleaned. “The salves will be ready in a month. Then we’ll make another batch. Now, off with you.” She waved a hand at the door, dismissing Jared. 

Surprised by Matilda's decision to send him home earlier than he had anticipated, he questioned, “Are… Are you sure?” 

“Yes, it is your birthday after all. I didn’t expect you to spend the entire day with me. I’m sure your parents have something planned for you. Now, off with you.” Again, Matilda waved a hand at the door, smiling when Jared started for the door. “Jared,” she called out.

Nodding at Matilda’s dismissal, Jared started walking toward the door, ready to leave. Hearing his name being called, with his hand on the doorknob, he turned back to Matilda. At first, he thought the crone had changed her mind, but was relieved when she didn’t.

“Happy birthday, Jared. When you return to me, I will have something important to share with you.”

“Oh?” Jared asked, his eyebrows disappearing under his bangs, wondering what else Matilda had to share with him, thinking the crone had shared so much with him in the past two years from gardening and what herbs to plant and harvest for the salves and tinctures they prepared, to how to dry the herbs and how to make the salves and tinctures, and everything else the crone made for the villagers at their requests. 

“Yes. I have yet to share my grimoire with you. It contains many spells that you will find useful. But that is for another time. Go!” Matilda urged, waving both hands at Jared and the door.

Chuckling, Jared pulled the door open. “See you tomorrow,” he called out and then stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind himself. He stood for a moment letting the sun shine on his face before he made his way home to find his parents bustling about their home.

“Jared, you’re home early!” Sharon announced, surprised to see her son home sooner than she had expected. 

“Seeing as how it’s my birthday, Matilda was done with me for the day and sent me home.” 

“Good… Good…” Sharon waved her left hand at Jared. “Why don’t you go wash up or see if there’s anything your father needs help with?”

Hearing his name being spoken, Gerald appeared in the doorway. “Did you call me, my dearest… Jared, you’re home!” Wide-eyed, he looked first at Jared and then at Sharon. “We weren’t expecting you to be home so soon.”

“I can tell.” Jared chuckled, knowing that his parents were trying to hide the fact that they were in the middle of preparing a small birthday celebration for him, something they did every year as far back as he could remember. While they weren’t the richest people in the village, they lived a comfortable life, and he had never wanted more than his parents had been able to give him. “Do you need my help with anything, Dad?”

Shaking his head, Gerald responded, “No… No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay, then I’m gonna go wash up. I’ll be down in a little while.” Not waiting for either of his parents to respond, he turned and walked toward the stairs, stopping with his hand on the banister when he heard his mother’s voice calling to him.

“Take your time!” Sharon called out and then turned her attention back to the cake she had pulled out of the cookstove just before Jared had made his presence known. 

Chuckling, Jared slowly climbed the stairs and disappeared into the washroom, where he stripped off his clothing and then poured water into the basin to wash himself. Feeling refreshed, he picked up his clothes and then pulled the door open to peek into the small hallway. Seeing that it was empty, he made his way into his bedroom, where he tossed his clothing to be dealt with later and pulled on his sleeping attire. Since he wouldn’t be venturing out after dinner, he didn’t see the need to redress in clothing he would wear outside. He made himself comfortable on his bed, reading an old book of fables he’d gotten one year from his parents as a birthday present, not moving until he heard his father calling for him. “Coming!” he called back, depositing the book onto the bed before making his way downstairs. 

“Happy birthday!” Sharon and Gerald called out happily in unison when Jared appeared. They stood arm in arm in front of the table that had been set for Jared’s birthday celebration. 

Blushing, Jared tucked his chin to his chest. “Thank you.”

Pulling away from Sharon, Gerald stepped forward and placed his hands on Jared’s shoulders. “Your mother and I are so proud of you. Happy birthday, my boy.” He pulled Jared into a hug and felt his son’s arms encircling him. 

“Thanks, Dad,” Jared said, his words muffled against his father’s shoulders. No sooner had that hug ended did he find himself in another, fiercely hugged by his mother. 

“My little boy is all grown up,” Sharon said tearfully.

“Mom…” Jared huffed, but there was no heat behind that word as he pulled away from his mother, fighting back his own emotions. 

“It’s true,” Gerald agreed. “Eighteen years ago today, you came into this world, blessing me and your mother, and now you are a man.” He looked at Jared with pride, seeing the fine, strapping young man his son had become. 

Reaching up, Sharon cupped Jared’s face. “Any boy… Man, should count themselves lucky to have you.”

“Mom,” Jared groaned, feeling his cheeks beginning to burn from embarrassment. He was thankful that his parents had accepted that he would never take a wife, but even for him, this was enough to make him blush.

“What?” Sharon asked innocently. “I’m only speaking the truth.”

Gently slapping Sharon’s backside and eliciting a gasp from his wife and an indignant groan from his son, Gerald chuckled and then announced, “Enough of this! We have a birthday to celebrate.” 

“He just wants cake,” Sharon mock-whispered to Jared, laughing at her husband.

“I guess we better eat dinner so Dad can have cake,” Jared stated, chuckling at his father, who seemed to be enjoying himself at their expense. He joined his parents at the table, listening to their banter while he ate, adding to the conversation when he was asked how his day had been. Looking up from his plate, he met his mother’s questioning eyes. “It was good.” He didn’t see the need to inform his parents of the run-in he’d had with some of the village boys earlier that day and ruin their good mood. It had happened so many times over the past two years that it had become almost commonplace and would only upset his mother over their taunts aimed at him, and anger his father to the point where his father would want to speak to the boys or their parents, making Jared step in and talk him down. No matter what was said to the boys or their parents, he knew the taunts would still be directed at him the next time he was walking in the village on his way to see the crone. For the time being, he was just lucky that the boys were only taunting him and hadn’t resorted to more than inflicting hurtful words on him, and he wanted to keep it that way. He knew he could take most of the boys one-on-one in a fight, but if they ganged up on him, he would be left bloody and bruised, something he wasn’t in the mood to deal with. 

“Just good?” Gerald asked, narrowing his eyes at Jared. He could tell by the way Jared was holding himself straighter that something had happened to his son today, and most likely that Jared had been teased again with the word witch being flung about as if it was a slur meant to inflict emotional pain on his child. While he wanted to step in and teach whoever had insulted his son a lesson, he knew he couldn’t fight every battle for Jared and that at some point, his son would deal with it when he’d had his fill. 

Forcing a smile on his face, Jared looked at his father. “I handled it,” he said evenly, making sure his father understood that there was no need to push the issue. 

“Okay then,” Gerald responded with a nod, deciding to drop the subject in favor of celebrating Jared’s birthday. “So, your day was enjoyable, good to hear it.”

“How was your training with Matilda?” Sharon asked, changing the subject. 

“Interesting.”

“Oh, how so?” Sharon inquired, urging Jared to elaborate.

“Today she had me make the salves.”

“Well, that’s a step in the right direction,” Gerald added, knowing how much it still bothered Jared that he continued to train with the crone when his son still didn’t show any signs of possessing magic.

Poking at his food with his fork, Jared shrugged and said, “I guess.” 

“Sweetheart, I know these past two years have been difficult for you…” Sharon started to say, her voice laced with sympathy for her son.

Jared scoffed in response. Difficult was an understatement. He’d lost those he’d called friends. He’d become someone the villagers eyed with suspicion and, for some, with contempt. 

“But you have learned some valuable information while training with Matilda.”

“Yeah, and it’s also ostracized me,” Jared pointed out. 

“If that is how your friends choose to treat you, then they were never truly your friends,” Gerald added. 

Jared wanted to argue the point, but he knew it would be useless. His father was right. If his friends truly were his friends, they would have looked past him training with the crone. They would have seen that he didn’t possess magic and that he was no different from them, but that hadn’t happened. They had turned their backs on him, and if they hadn’t because of his supposed magical abilities, they eventually would have because of his preference for men. If it wasn’t one thing that made him an outcast, it was another. 

“Come now, today is a day for celebration,” Sharon interjected as she stood from her chair and started clearing off the table. 

Getting to his feet, Gerald offered his help to his wife, who shooed him away. “I tried, you’re my witness,” he grumbled lightheartedly and then sat down again. 

Jared laughed at his father. “Yes, because you want cake.” The words were no sooner out of his mouth when he saw his mother making her way over to them, carrying a plate containing a white frosted cake. 

“Happy birthday,” Sharon said as she placed the plate down in front of Jared, followed by his father placing a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string next to him. “I think I’ll open my gift first,” he teased, grabbing and ignoring his father’s protest. He pulled at the string, untying it, and then slid his fingers along the seam of the folded paper, opening it to reveal a leather apron. He looked at it and saw that it was beautifully crafted, yet had no idea why his parents had gifted him the apron. Raising his head, he was about to ask his parents about the unusual gift when his father spoke.

“Your mother and I thought this might be beneficial to you… What with the training you're doing with the crone.” Gerald pointed to the apron. “Figured you would be able to protect your clothing.”

“Thank you, it’s beautiful and it will come in handy.” Jared set aside the apron and picked up the knife to cut the cake, knowing his father had waited long enough. He felt himself beginning to shake when he raised the knife and set it down again, afraid that he might drop it. When he went to pick the knife up again, he was hit with a throbbing pain behind his eyes, making it difficult for him to keep his eyes open. Letting the knife fall from his grip, he raised his hands to his head and groaned in pain. 

“Sweetheart… Jared…” Sharon called out, watching as the color drained from her son's face and he winced in pain. 

“Jared, what is it?” Gerald asked, concerned by the way his son was acting.

“I… I don’t feel so good,” Jared said and pushed himself away from the table. He stood on shaking legs that felt as if they would give out on him at any moment and then staggered backward, groaning when he was hit with another throbbing pain behind his eyes. “I… I… I think… I should lie down,” he stammered and then turned away from his parents, ignoring their concerned voices as they called after him. He climbed the stairs, his feet faltering on the steps, and he had to grab onto the banister to stop himself from falling a few times. He stumbled to his bed and fell onto it, curling up into the fetal position with his eyes closed, hoping that the darkness and quiet of his room would soothe his throbbing head and stop his body from shaking. At some point in the night, he’d managed to drag the covers over his body when he realized his shaking was from being cold. He ignored the knock at his door, thinking it was the throbbing in his head. 

Gently pushing open the door, Sharon peered into Jared’s room and saw her son curled up on his bed under the covers, shivering. “Jared,” she called out softly, stepping into her son’s room, she crossed to Jared’s bed to check on him. She placed a hand on his forehead and felt how clammy Jared was. “You’re burning up.”

“How is he?” Gerald asked from the doorway.

Looking up at her husband, Sharon said, “He’s running a fever.”

“How could he become this sick so quickly?” Gerald asked, taking a step closer to Jared’s bed. 

“I’m not sure. He was fine this morning. No signs of sickness.”

“Could it be a reaction to the herbs the crone had him working with today?” Gerald questioned, feeling as if he was grasping at straws while he stood there watching helplessly as his son shivered from his fever. 

“What do we have from Matilda that will aid with a fever?” Sharon pondered, more to herself than her husband.

With a groan, Jared batted his mother’s hand away from his head. “Just need sleep,” he grumbled, wanting his parents to leave his room, letting the darkness and the quiet settle over him again. “Please, just let me sleep.”

“But Jared, you’re sick…”

“Let me be.”

At a loss for words at her son’s outburst, Sharon looked at Jared and then at Gerald.

“Dearest, leave him be. If he’s not better in the morning, then we’ll push the issue,” Gerald advised.

Against her better judgment, Sharon retreated from Jared’s room, leaving her son to hopefully sleep through the night, praying that his fever would break while he slept. “I don’t like this.” She swept a hand at Jared’s closed bedroom door. 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Gerald said, hoping to reassure his wife that their son would be fine as he led Sharon into their bedroom. 

Jared tossed and turned in his bed. The throbbing in his head began to intensify, making him cry out in pain. He let go of the bedcovers he’d been gripping tightly and raised his hands to his head, covering his ears. Rolling over, his hands still held tightly to his head, he drew his knees up to his chest and began to pant, hoping the pain he was in would miraculously stop. It didn’t, as a ringing in his ears seemed to accompany the throbbing in his head. He began to shake uncontrollably, his body seemingly no longer under his control, making him cry as wave after wave of pain rolled through his body. He rolled onto his back and attempted to get up and go to his parents for help, only to find that he could no longer move his limbs, his muscles locking up on him. He screamed in pain, his back arching off the bed, and his body convulsing, unaware that the cabin began to shake, the windows rattled in their casings, and that his bed and everything in his room began to rise in the air, hovering around him until he screamed again and then went limp. His bed crashed back onto the floor, his body bouncing limply on the mattress as the items that had been floating in the air fell to the floor. 

Awakened by the sound of Jared’s screaming, Sharon shot up from the bed. With one hand on Gerald’s shoulder, ready to shake him, she gasped when she felt their cabin beginning to shake and heard the windows rattling. Wide-eyed, she watched helplessly as the items on her dresser began to rise in the air, hovering by themselves only to fall to the floor a few moments later with a loud crashing sound.

“What the hell is going on?!” Gerald called out, scrambling from his side of the bed, looking around widely at the state of their bedroom. 

“Jared!” Sharon called out fearfully and then got to her feet, carefully making her way past the fallen items. Pulling open their bedroom door, she looked over at Jared’s still-closed door. Taking a step into the small hallway that separated their rooms, ready to check on her son, she stopped when she heard banging on their front door.

“I’ll see who it is, you check on Jared,” Gerald instructed before disappearing down the stairs to see who could be knocking on their cabin door at this time of night. Pulling open the door, his eyes widened when he saw the crone standing there. 

“It’s happened,” Matilda announced and then pushed past Gerald, not waiting to be invited in.

After closing the door, Gerald turned to the crone. “What’s happened?”

“Jared’s magic has finally made itself known. He’s come into his own.” Without waiting for Gerald to respond, Matilda began to slowly climb the stairs in search of Jared’s bedroom.

“What?” Gerald asked and then called out, “Where are you going?” when he saw the crone climbing the stairs. 

Ignoring Gerald’s question, Matilda continued her search, not stopping until she stepped into Jared’s bedroom to find him lying limply on his bed with Sharon hovering nervously over his prone body. “Step aside.”

“He won’t wake,” Sharon announced fearfully, looking at Matilda. 

“Step aside,” Matilda said again, gently pushing Sharon out of the way so she could take her place by Jared’s bed. 

Taking the steps two at a time, flustered, Gerald called out, “See here!” following the crone. He stopped just inside Jared’s room, meeting the terrified eyes of his wife. “What… What’s going on?” he asked, his eyes flicking toward Jared, who seemed to lie motionless on his bed. “Is he…?” His words caught in his throat, his mind playing out the worst-case scenario.

Crossing the room, Sharon took Gerald's hand in hers. “I don’t know,” she whispered fearfully, meeting her husband’s concerned eyes. “He won’t wake up.”

“Hush, the both of you,” Matilda hissed, giving Jared’s parents a sharp look before turning her attention to Jared. Leaning over Jared, she placed one hand on his heart and another on his forehead. She closed her eyes, trying to read his energy, seeing if she could detect anything from the unconscious man. “Hmm,” she murmured, pulling her hands away from Jared and then straightening up. 

“Please,” Sharon begged, clutching her husband’s hand, her words directed at Matilda. “Is he…”

“He will recover,” Matilda assured Gerald and Sharon. “Jared’s magic manifested in such a way that it has rendered him unconscious. I felt it happening from my cottage. It’s what drew me here. I suspect he will be weak when he comes to. Keep him in bed for at least a day. Make sure he eats and drinks to replenish the energy spent when his magic made itself known. Then, when he is able to walk without needing to sit and catch his breath, send him to me.”

“That’s it… Send him to you,” Gerald demanded. “Our son lies unconscious in his bed, and all you want is for us to send him to you when he wakes?”

“No, I told you to let him rest and feed him and then send him to me.” Matilda looked down at Jared and then up at Gerald and Sharon. “There is nothing for me to do. Jared will wake up on his own. When that happens, he will need my guidance more than ever.” 

Seeing that Gerald was about to argue with Matilda, Sharon spoke first. “But our son will be alright. His magic…” She swept a hand at Jared. “His magic manifesting the way it did, shaking the house, rattling the windows, and making things float in the air, that would not harm him.”

“Anything is possible, but I don’t think there will be any lasting ill effects for Jared.” Holding up her hands and spreading them, she added, “Unless he doesn’t get control over his magic. Then he might cause harm to himself and others.” Shrugging, she moved toward the door, pushing past Jared’s shaken parents and disappearing into the hallway. “Remember, send him to me,” she called out.

“There has got to be more we can do than just sending our son to you,” Gerald grumbled, letting go of his wife’s hand and stepping into the hallway, going after the crone who had already disappeared from their cabin. Seeing that the crone had left them to care for their son, he returned to Jared’s room to find Sharon straightening it up. Figuring there was nothing either of them could do for Jared until he regained consciousness, he started helping Sharon with straightening up their cottage, disposing of any broken items, and replacing what hadn’t shattered back in its place. He took turns with his wife, sitting by Jared’s bedside until their son woke three days later, groggy, weak, and hungry.

Blinking his eyes open, Jared groaned and then rolled over to find his father sitting by his bedside, looking as if he hadn’t slept in days. “Dad,” he croaked, watching his father sit up in the chair that had been moved into his bedroom.

“Hey, you’re awake!” Gerald said happily. “Your mother will be so relieved.” Pushing to his feet, he stumbled to the door. Catching himself on the door jamb, he called out, “Sharon, Jared’s awake!” and then turned and made his way back to Jared’s bedside, dropping wearily into the chair.

“Dad, what’s going on? Why are you sitting in my room?” Jared asked, struggling to right himself so he could sit up.

“Try not to exert too much energy. You’ve been unconscious for nearly four days,” Gerald said.

“Wh… What?” Jared asked in disbelief, his eyes wide while he looked at his father, his mind trying to make sense of what he’d just been told. Nearly four days lost. How? Before he could ask anything else, he heard the sound of his mother approaching.

“Jared!” Sharon called out, giving her son a watery smile. “Thank the gods.” She rushed to Jared’s bedside, placing the tray she’d brought with her on the nightstand. “How are you feeling?” Sitting on the edge of the bed, she helped Jared to raise himself so he was sitting with his back against the wall. Reaching out with her left hand, she cupped Jared’s cheek. “You had us so worried.”

“What happened? Dad said I’ve been unconscious for nearly four days.”

“Your magic… It finally manifested itself,” Sharon revealed. 

“Do you… Do you feel anything?” Gerald asked.

“Not really,” Jared informed his parents. Aside from a slight buzzing in his head and a tingle in his fingertips, he didn’t feel any different than he had three days ago. 

“Well, Matilda said you have come into your magic. Here,” Sharon reached for the glass of water, offering it to Jared. “You need to eat and drink. Build up your strength, and then you’re to visit with Matilda.”

“Matilda was here?” Jared asked, confused by what his parents had told him.

“Yes,” Gerald answered and then asked, “You don’t remember anything?”

“No.”

“Sweetheart, you got sick while we were celebrating your birthday. You had a fever…” Sharon glanced at Gerald before saying, “You screamed out during the night. Then the cabin shook, the windows rattled, and anything that could rise in the air and float did. Then suddenly it was over. Things crashed to the floor…”

“And the crone was pounding on our door,” Gerald supplied. “She said she felt your magic awakening within you from her cottage.”

“Did I… You weren’t hurt, were you?” Jared asked fearfully, hoping the answer would be no, knowing that he would never be able to forgive himself if his magic had somehow hurt either of them.

“No,” Sharon assured Jared. 

“Scared the hell out of us, but no, we weren’t hurt,” Gerald added. 

Jared slumped back against the wall in relief, glad to know that he hadn’t hurt his parents when his magic had supposedly manifested itself. “Thank the gods,” he murmured. 

“You need to eat,” Sharon urged, picking up the tray containing the bread and cheese she’d brought up with her. “Just take it slowly.”

Setting aside the glass, Jared ate slowly, savoring the food that he hadn’t eaten in nearly four days. When he’d eaten his fill, he handed the tray back to his mother. “I need to clean up… Change the sheets…”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Your strength has yet to return to you,” Sharon cautioned.

“Mom,” Jared whined despite now being considered an adult. At that moment, he felt as if he were a child again, being admonished by his mother. 

“Dearest, our son is right. Jared could stand to freshen up. I’ll stay with him while you tidy up downstairs,” Gerald suggested, putting to rest any possible growing arguments between his wife and son.

Jared smiled gracefully at his father, watching his mother shake her head in acknowledgment before getting to her feet.

Knowing that her husband was right, that Jared did indeed need to wash himself, and that her son’s bedding needed to be changed, Sharon got to her feet. Leaning down, she cupped Jared’s cheek. “Don’t overdo it. Do your best to conserve your energy.” Letting go of Jared’s cheek, she picked up the tray and left her son in the care of her husband. 

Pushing aside his bedding, Jared swung his legs over the side of his bed and shakily got to his feet. He felt his knees buckling and nearly fell backward. “Oof,” he huffed, thankful for his father’s hands on his biceps, stabilizing him and keeping him on his feet. 

“You’re like a newborn foal,” Gerald teased, leading Jared slowly out of his son’s bedroom and into the washroom, where he helped Jared wash himself. “I haven’t had to do this for you since you were little. Always splashing about. Getting more water on the floor than on you. You would drive your mother crazy. She’d call for me to bathe you rather than be drowned,” he reminisced. 

“I guess I was a handful,” Jared acknowledged sheepishly, lifting his arms so his father could help him wrap a towel around his waist. “Still am…”

Sensing Jared’s sudden melancholy, Gerald smiled. “And we wouldn’t have it any other way. Never think that the worst day possible with you hasn’t always been our joy.”

Nodding, too afraid that his words would betray him if he spoke, Jared allowed his father to lead him back to his bedroom, where they found his mother remaking his bed. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

Pulling back the bedding, Sharon patted the mattress. “Freshly washed sheets and a nicely made bed. Now, let’s get you back to bed.”

“I think I should put something on… I’m dressed only in a towel,” Jared pointed out.

“Of course. I’ll check on you later,” Sharon announced, knowing her son had no desire to dress in front of her. “See that our son rests.”

“Yes, dearest,” Gerald replied, watching his wife slip out of Jared’s bedroom. Grabbing a pair of sleep pants and a tunic, he helped Jared dress and then into bed. “Call out if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Jared said sleepily, suddenly feeling as if all his strength had left him. Closing his eyes, he rested his head against his pillow and sighed. While he was exhausted, he felt content in his bed, and within a matter of moments, he had drifted off to sleep. 

Chapter Text

A week later, Jared walked through the village early in the morning, not wanting to encounter anyone since his magic had finally manifested itself. He could feel it now, his magic, coursing through his veins like fire licking at his insides, warming him in a way he’d never experienced before. He wasn’t sure what might happen if he encountered the boys who liked to taunt him, and his anger got the better of him. Having decided that he didn’t want to find out, he’d left his cabin before most of the villagers woke and made his way to the crone’s cottage. Seeing the cozy and inviting cottage coming into view, he felt himself settle, the magic at his fingertips begging to be used, tamping itself down. As he approached the porch, he watched the cottage’s door open and smiled when he saw the crone standing in the doorway wrapped in her shawl. “Morning,” he greeted.

“It’s good to see you. Come,” Matilda replied and then stepped back into the cottage to sit in her chair and wait for Jared to join her. When he did, sitting beside her, leaving the cottage’s door open, she chastised, “Would you leave your cabin’s door open?”

“Sorry,” Jared murmured. Getting to his feet, he took a step toward the door, ready to close it when Matilda told him to stop. He turned back to her, looking at the crone in confusion. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted me to close the door.”

“Yes, with your magic.” Settling back in her chair, Matilda looked up at Jared. “Close your eyes and concentrate on the door. With your magic, reach out and close it,” she directed. 

Doing as the crone had directed, Jared closed his eyes and concentrated on the door, seeing it in his mind’s eye. Feeling his magic coursing through him, his veins tingling with his newfound ability, he raised his right hand and flicked his wrist in the direction of the door. His shoulders slumped when nothing happened, feeling defeated. In his mind, he heard the crone’s voice instructing him to focus his energy and concentrate on closing the door. Squaring his shoulders, he shook his arms and then took a deep breath. Focusing his attention on his task, he felt his magic building within him. Raising his right hand again, he flicked his wrist, directing his magic toward the door, willing it to close. His eyes snapped open when he heard a loud bang followed by another. He watched the front door open and close on its own, and then turned when the back door did the same, the sound becoming deafening when both doors opened and closed repeatedly on their own, not stopping despite his attempts. “I can’t make them stop!” he yelled out, turning his attention to the crone and watching Matilda get to her feet and move to the middle of the room. 

Standing in the middle of the room, Matilda positioned herself so her left arm was raised toward the front door and her right toward the back door. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on feeling Jared’s magic, sending hers out toward his and forcing it back slightly toward Jared so she wouldn’t hurt him. With Jared’s magic under control for the moment, she flicked her wrists, closing the doors and stopping their banging. Lowering her arms, she opened her eyes and looked at Jared.

Jared stood there feeling utterly defeated and like he was a failure. The crone had given him one task, and he’d failed. “I’m sorry,” he said, not daring to look at the crone. “I’m never going to be like you…”

“No, you’re not,” Matilda confirmed. 

Wide-eyed, Jared raised his head and looked at Matilda, wondering what the point of teaching him had been since he’d never been like her. He probably never would be. 

“You are you, and I am me. No two witches are the same. Give yourself time to learn how to control your magic. There is still much for you to learn. Do you think that I could control my magic when it woke within me?” Shaking her head, Matilda laughed. “I can assure you that it took me some time to control my magic and master my craft.” Stepping closer to Jared, she raised her hands and placed them on his biceps. “And in time, you will have command over yours. Now, let us sit so I can show you my grimoire.” She led Jared over to the table where a large and thick book lay, motioning for him to sit down. Taking the empty chair, she sat down and opened the grimoire. “This grimoire contains spells written by the witches who came before me. When I pass from this world and cross through the veil, this will be left for you.” She pushed the book toward Jared, urging him to look through its pages. 

Turning the pages carefully, Jared noticed the language some of the spells had been written in - Latin - and was thankful that he’d paid attention when it had been taught to him in school. “Have you added to this?”

“Yes, as you will, too.” Matilda pulled the grimoire toward her. Closing the grimoire, she laid her hands over it. “Now, let us begin.”

For three more years, Matilda taught Jared everything she could to the best of her abilities. There were days when it seemed as if Jared was mastering his magic and was to control it. Seeing the dimpled smile on his face when Jared had a good day warmed her heart. Then there were days when it seemed as if they had somehow transported themselves back to the very beginning of Jared’s training, and he couldn’t seem to hold onto his magic or control it. “Try again,” she insisted, waving her hand at the candle she’d placed on the table, the silver candleholder resting closer to Jared. “Concentrate,” she urged.

Giving Matilda a dubious look, Jared sighed, not seeing the point in this useless exercise. He’d been at this task for a while without a positive outcome. “Right, light the candle,” he said, and then closed his eyes. He rolled his shoulders and moved his head from left to right before opening his eyes again. With the candle in his sight, he raised his right hand, directing his magic to his fingertips. “Incendiarius,” he said, feeling his magic flowing through him. He watched as a plume of smoke rose from the candle’s wick, smiling, sure that this time he’d gotten the candle to light. He gasped and then yelled, “By the gods!” in frustration and fear when the curtains closer to the candle caught fire. 

“Jared, pull your magic back!” Matilda commanded and then added her magic to Jared’s, aiding him in snuffing out the flames before the wall caught fire and her cottage went up in flames.

“I’m a failure! I’m going to hurt someone,” Jared wailed, his eyes set firmly on the charred fabric of what was left of the curtains. Pulling out the chair, he sat down heavily in it and then dropped his head into his hands, allowing him to feel sorry for himself.

“Those curtains needed to be changed out anyway,” Matilda said, resting her hands on Jared’s shoulders. “They were ugly and had seen better days.”

Raising his head, Jared craned his neck to look at Matilda over his shoulder. “How can you make light of this? I lit your curtains on fire. I nearly burned down your cottage.”

“True, but you also lit the candle.” Matilda waved a hand at the candle, its flame flickering as it burned.

Turning toward the candle, Jared saw that he had managed to light the wick. His hazel eyes watched the flame dance and burn, the wax dripping down the candleholder. Despite the pride he felt blooming within his chest at having finally managed to light the candle, he was still horrified that he’d managed to set the curtains on fire. “One of these days, I’m going to hurt someone because of my magic. The only reason that didn’t happen today was because of you.”

Patting Jared’s shoulder, Matilda said, “You’re tired. I think it’s best if you go home and get some sleep.” She knew she was tired, her strength waning with all the magic she had been using in trying to help Jared control his.

“Sure,” Jared agreed, getting to his feet. He started for the door, only to stop when Matilda called out to him.

Matilda shuffled her way over to Jared. Reaching up, she placed her hands on Jared’s cheek. Cupping them, she said, “You are a powerful witch. You will gain control over your magic. Now, go.” Letting go of Jared, she shooed him out of her cottage. Suddenly feeling exhausted, she slowly made her way over to the overstuffed chair and sank into it, intending to rest until she felt her strength return to her. 

Jared felt it the moment the crone’s life ended, waking him from a deep sleep with a gasp, the sadness suddenly overwhelming him as Matilda passed from the land of the living to be ushered into that of the dead, stepping past the veil that separated his world from where she had been summoned to. He felt the hot tears on his cheeks and the wetness behind his eyes as he mourned for his friend and teacher, knowing he had lost the only person who truly understood him. Still feeling the crone’s presence, he sat up in bed to see the crone standing before him, and he knew their time was short; that they had to say to each other what they could before the veil was dropped for good and Matilda was out of his reach. 

Do not mourn for me, child. I lived a long life as one infused with magic does. Matilda reached out to touch Jared, offering the boy she had watched grow into a man comfort. I have taught you much…

“You tried, but I failed you,” Jared said, interrupting what the crone had to tell him, his voice the only one filling the quietness of his bedroom.

Matilda smiled ruefully at Jared. Your magic is unharnessed, and for that, I am deeply sorry. I thought I had more time to teach you, to train you on how to control your magic.

“I’ll never be able to harness my magic. I’ll forever be a danger to my parents… To the village,” Jared despaired, the realization hitting him and making his heart ache even more.

My cottage is yours now. It will offer you the safety you are in need of so you may continue to practice what I’ve taught you.

“What’s the point? If I couldn’t get my magic under control with you to guide me, how would I ever be able to accomplish that without you now that you’ve crossed over to the other side?” Jared inquired, feeling lost and afraid of what was to come now that he’d lost the one person who could help him with his magic. 

Find my grimoire, Jared. Within the pages, you will find what you need… With Matilda’s time on the earthly plane over, the crone’s image faded into the dark, the rest of her words unheard by Jared, but it had been enough for him to hold onto. Together with his father’s help, they had buried the crone, holding a small ceremony with his mother present to commemorate Matilda’s life. Shortly after that, he’d made the decision to move into the crone’s cottage. At first, his parents had protested, wanting him to remain with them in his childhood home, but he couldn’t. He and his magic were too much of a risk to their well-being, and he couldn’t chance their safety. His parents had fought him at first, but eventually gave in when on several occasions items within their cabin began to levitate, floating freely until Jared realized he had been lost in thought and needed to focus his mind, resulting in the chairs and anything else that had been hovering in the air to crash to the floor. Wanting to make sure that he had everything he needed, his parents had accompanied him to the cottage. Their presence had felt invasive, as if they weren’t meant to be there, and it was all he could do to keep himself composed so his magic would wreak havoc.

“This just won’t do,” Sharon stated, looking around the cottage. “There’s no cookstove…”

“Dearest…”

“No, do not dearest me, thinking that is all it will take to soothe me…” Sharon argued.

Jared sank down into one of the overstuffed chairs, careful not to sit in what had been the crone’s chair, and buried his head in his hands. He listened to his mother’s concerns and his father’s suggestions on how they could make the cottage more “livable” for him. By the time his mother had composed a list and his father had agreed with it, his nerves were frayed and his tentative grip on his magic had been lost. The cottage’s doors began to bang open and closed rapidly, and the fire in the fireplace roared to life. “Enough!” he bellowed at his parents and himself, pulling his magic back before he hurt the ones he held dearest to him. “Please, enough,” he said in a quieter voice. “I know you mean well, and I appreciate your concern. If I agree to the changes, will you be satisfied?” Looking up, he met the concerned eyes of his parents, and at that moment, he knew he wouldn’t be returning to the village or his parents’ cabin for a long time. 

“Jared…” Sharon started to say, stopping when she felt her husband’s hands on her shoulders.

“Yes,” Gerald said, not wanting his wife or son to argue and cause each other pain. He knew his wife’s heart was breaking over the loss of their son. Neither of them was ready to say goodbye to Jared, but the time had come for their son to leave their cabin and be on his own. Jared’s magic was powerful, their son was a formidable witch, and if Jared continued to live with them, they wouldn’t have much more in the way of furniture if he continued to cause it to float and crash to the floor. They had already had to replace two chairs, countless plates and cups, and other items. The list of broken items had grown long, and before too long, if Jared didn’t leave their home, it would only get longer. 

“Fine. How long do you think it will take?” Jared asked, giving in to what his parents wanted, knowing it was for the best for himself and them, wanting to keep his parents safe. 

“A week at the most,” Gerald answered.

“Then let’s get started,” Jared said, giving his parents the approval they were looking for. His mother had insisted on cleaning the cottage from top to bottom, not stopping until every surface shone, the candle wax had been scraped off of whatever surfaces it had dripped onto, the bedding had been changed, and his belongings had been moved in and stored to her satisfaction. Even the charred curtains had been removed and replaced with new ones that billowed when the breeze from the open window caught them. A cookstove had been installed, and what had been the crone’s cabinets, where she stored her nonperishable items and magical items, had been converted into a pantry, fully stocked with canned goods from his mother’s kitchen. The small desk with its affixed shelving had been replaced with a worktable he could stand at and not have to hunch over. A stool to accommodate his height had been added as well as open shelves above the worktable to hold whatever items he might need, keeping them in easy reach. The old table and chairs had been replaced with a sturdy set that could easily accommodate his larger frame. He had refused to allow his parents to replace the overstuffed chairs. That had felt as if they were trying to erase all traces of the crone, something he couldn’t bear to have happen. This had been the crone’s cottage first, and he felt the need to honor her. With all the changes to the cottage, he still felt the crone’s presence, something he took comfort in since he’d come to regard Matilda as not only his teacher but also his friend. And with his decision to remain at the cottage, he’d also done the hardest thing he’d ever had to do in his young life - he broke off contact with his parents. He couldn’t risk their safety by having them visit him while his magic was so unpredictable. He’d seen the destruction his magic had caused to their cabin - the broken furniture, dishes, glasses, and countless other items that had needed to be replaced. Despite their pleas, he’d held fast, knowing it was for the best. 

A  week later, Jared stood in the middle of the room looking around, and he felt at home, as if the cottage somehow knew that Matilda was no longer among the living, had passed the cottage to him, and that the cottage had accepted him as its occupant and welcomed him. While the cottage was officially his, it still felt as if Matilda would make her presence known at any moment. He kept waiting for the crone to appear before him, instructing him on how to care for her cottage. Chuckling to himself, he made his way over to the overstuffed chairs, sinking down into the one he would sit in when Matilda was still alive. Looking over at the chair, he felt a profound sense of sadness. It felt as if he’d lost the only person who truly understood him and who could help him with getting his magic under control. He knew he wasn’t alone, and that his parents loved and supported him, but they were at a loss as to how to guide him with his magic. It was then that he recalled what the crone had said to him the night of her passing - Find my grimoire, Jared. Within the pages, you will find what you need…

Getting to his feet, he made his way into the bedroom to search through the trunk at the foot of the bed. In his haste to get his belongings moved in and not wanting his parents to look through Matilda’s things, he’d gathered the crone’s meager belongings and placed them in the trunk for safekeeping. While he mourned Matilda’s loss, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to look at what he’d packed away until now. Hoping that his memory of that night was accurate and that what Matilda had said to him was true, he opened the trunk and rummaged through it, finding the grimoire where he’d placed it - wrapped in Matilda’s shawl for safekeeping. 

Carrying the grimoire to his worktable, Jared gently placed it down and opened it, his eyes tearing at the loss he felt, threatening to overwhelm him when he saw a folded piece of paper with his name scrawled across it. His right hand shook when he reached out to pick it up, his left hand going to his face so he was able to wipe away his tears. Even in death, Matilda was still trying to teach him. 

Jared,

If you’re reading this, then my time has come to an end, and I have passed beyond the veil. Do not cry for me. I lived a long life, a good life. One that was enriched by the compassion your parents showed me when others turned their backs on me, and for that I am grateful. But not as grateful as I was to have met you. Your dimpled smile lit up my cottage, which I have passed on to you. May you find comfort and safety here as I have. This cottage will protect you. Now, as for your magic… It bloomed within you late in life, and I regret that I didn’t have as much time to help you learn to control it as I had hoped. Within the pages of this grimoire, which I pass on to you, are many spells that you will find useful, but none so useful as the spell to call forth a familiar. Cast this spell. Call forth a familiar to bind your magic to so that you may gain control over it. Once you’ve cast this spell, I’m confident you will find everything you have ever needed in your life.

Matilda

Jared read and reread the letter until his eyes crossed and he was able to recite the words from memory. A familiar. Matilda had never mentioned this to him before. He had never seen the crone with a familiar, but then again, her magic didn’t seem to wreak havoc while attempting even the simplest of spells. Setting aside the letter, he thumbed through the pages of the grimoire. Finding the mentioned spell, he placed Matilda’s letter between the pages, marking the spot so he would be able to find it easily when he was ready to cast the spell. 

With the dawn of a new day, Jared found himself sitting in the overstuffed chair after having tended to the gardens and crafting a few simple charms for protection and prosperity, which some of the villagers had sought him out for. In his hands, he held the grimoire. He glanced over at the empty chair, his heart heavy with sorrow, and then back at the grimoire. With a steadying breath, he opened the grimoire, reading through some of the spells - there was a spell to attract a fairy to one’s garden, one for finding a lost object, and another on how to speak to the dead, making him shudder and recall his vow that he’d made to Matilda that he would never entertain such a thing. He was surprised to see spells on love charms and one for making someone fall in love with another, making him wonder if these had somehow backfired and that was why Matilda had been so adamant that he never cast them. He still held true to his vow to never take away anyone’s free will by casting a love spell on them. Shaking his head, dismissing his thoughts on these spells and the past, he turned to the page containing the spell for calling forth a familiar, wondering if it was even worth casting the spell. Would the spell even work if he were to cast it? His magic had a tendency to wreak havoc. How could he be sure that by casting this spell, his magic wouldn’t result in something destructive? Yet, there was something within him urging him to cast the spell. Matilda had been sure in her letter to him that this spell would solve his problems, and he had to be honest with himself; the crone had been right about him. Surely Matilda was also right about this. What was the worst that could happen? Aside from him blowing up the cottage, well, the fact that the spell might not work was about the worst that could happen. 

Figuring he wouldn’t know until he tried, Jared kept the grimoire open to the spell and got to his feet. Setting the grimoire down on his worktable, he read through the requirements and then grabbed the candles and salt. Setting the candles down on the floor around him in a circle, he then poured the salt around the candles, creating a protective circle around himself, hoping that might help contain his magic when he cast the spell. He stepped out of the circle to pick up the grimoire and then returned to stand in the middle, making sure that neither the salt circle nor the candles had been disturbed. With a prayer to the gods that the spell he was about to cast didn’t wreak havoc on him or the village, he closed his eyes and spoke one word, “Incendiarius.” Feeling the cottage shake, he opened his eyes to inspect any possible damage his magic had caused. Seeing none, he breathed a sigh of relief that caught in his throat when he realized he’d managed to light the candles without anything else within the cottage catching on fire. Feeling more confident in his abilities, he took a calming breath and read from the grimoire. “Hear my call unto you, from lands afar or lands nearby. I call to you, my friend and ally, so that we may bond ourselves to each other and work as one. By the gods, I call for my familiar to come forth, make yourself known, and join me.” He watched the flames of the candles momentarily flare and then extinguish as if they had been snuffed out by some unseen force. He waited a moment to see if anything else would happen before closing the grimoire when it seemed that nothing else would. That night, Jared lay in bed staring up at the darkened ceiling, wondering what his spell would produce for him in the form of a familiar, hoping that the spell had worked and that some magical creature would answer his call. Once this happened, he would recite the words of acceptance, binding himself to his familiar, creating a bond between them that would help tame his wayward magic.

Jensen cracked one vivid green eye open and then slowly opened the other, blinking lazily, yawning as he pushed away the desire to close his eyes and continue to slumber. Slowly, he lifted his right paw, extending it and flexing his toes and stretching, followed by the other, and then stood on four paws, his head and back dipping, leaving his flank and tail in the air. After sunning himself on the inviting, large, and warm rock, he’d fallen asleep under the sun’s rays, feeling it warm his orange and white dotted fur. Something had woken him, and now that he was awake, it was time to investigate. The sound of the wind caught his attention. Cocking his head to the left, his pointed, tufted ears pricking up, he focused on the sound, listening intently for the wind to carry the sound to him again. It was faint but there, a calling. A summoning spell was carried on the wind. A call from one wielding magic seeking help from one who was a magical creature. Closing his eyes, he focused his attention on the call, trying to determine if the call was one of distress or need, the faint sound of a male voice calling out to another who would answer his request. Opening his eyes, he yowled his response, letting any other magical creatures who might have heard the summoning spell know that it had been answered, that the call for a familiar had been for him, and he would honor the request. Jumping down from the rock, he started out in the direction the summoning spell had come from, leaving his home and his solitude. After so long of being on his own, he would finally bond with another and aid his witch as his familiar, which was what his life had been intended for.

Stopping for a moment, Jensen turned his attention to the wind, listening for the call from his witch, the softly carried words spoken in the baritone voice of a young man. He would travel to the ends of the earth to find his witch and offer his services as a familiar. Thankfully, that wouldn’t come to pass. From what he could tell from the summoning and how clear it was becoming, his witch was a day’s journey out, and as long as he didn’t encounter any danger, he’d be there at his witch’s side by nightfall the next day. Satisfied with that, he continued walking, putting further distance between himself and what he’d used to call his home, a nest he’d created in the mouth of a cave that offered him protection from the wind and rain when the weather was at its harshest. He would snuggle into his nest, listening to the sound of the rain falling or the wind howling, lulling him to sleep. When the sun shone, beckoning him out with its warm rays, he would perch on that rock, the one he’d been sleeping on when the summoning spell had woken him, and bathe in the sun, the warmth seeping past his orange and white dotted fur and into his bones. Sometimes he would sleep, other times he would look up at the sky and watch the passing clouds, but always he waited to hear a witch’s call, listening for the summoning spell that never came, until today. His body thrummed with excitement over the possibility of being his witch’s familiar, of finally being with the one he’d been created for. That thought urged him on, getting him to rise from his haunches and move, taking a step forward and then another, moving closer to his destination. He would travel nonstop until he arrived, ignoring his hunger and thirst, his body moving of its own accord, exhaustion be damned; only one goal mattered to him, and that was to answer the call and present himself to the one who had summoned him. 

Jensen stopped just within the witch’s territory, his ears pricking up, swiveling this way and that, listening for any sounds of movement. He felt the unbalanced magic flow over his fur, making his whiskers twitch. The one who had called to him was a mess, unable to control their magic and desperately in need of him. Whoever this witch was, he was younger, much younger than Jensen. Then again, many were. His kind had been around since magic had blinked into existence, created not only to be a familiar but also to aid the one wielding the magic, making the witch more powerful in some cases, helping him or her reach their fullest potential. In this case, he had a feeling that he would be not only the witch’s familiar, but also his companion, and the witch’s anchor to the magical realm, helping this witch harness his magic before real damage was done and people were hurt or worse, the magic ran unchecked and killed the witch. He shuddered at that thought, his body shaking from his paws to his tail, the feeling of magic being snuffed out before the witch had a chance to understand his abilities and come into his own. Sitting on his haunches, he turned his head to look behind himself at the path that had led him here through the quiet and sleepy village to this cottage tucked away past the young trees still growing tall, reaching to the sky, hoping to one day be a forest. He felt the trees’ merriment as they thought of their potential, planning for their future, and he couldn’t help but purr, a deep rumble starting in his chest, working its way up and out of him. Someday , his purr conveyed, confirming that indeed, should nothing befall these growing trees, they would reach their potential and be the forest they envisioned themselves to be. Getting to his paws, he shook himself from head to tail, throwing off the dust that clung to his fur from his travels. Soon, he would be able to relax and bathe, drink, and eat once he reached his destination and the home of the witch who needed him. With one last glance over his shoulder at the village, he turned his attention to the path, stepping onto it, his speed making quick work of the last leg of his journey, bringing him within sight of the cottage and the witch who dwelled within. 

Jensen stopped short of approaching the cottage and making his presence known, staying hidden within the cool underbrush, peering at the cottage and the figure gliding toward him. He watched through hooded eyes as the woman approached, knowing that she had crossed over to the land of the dead some time ago. Even in death, he could feel her magic and knew that at one time this cottage had been her home. State your business , he commanded, halting her approach, knowing that the dead should remain behind the veil, yet curious enough to communicate with the ghost of the witch before him. How have you come to be here? Why have you stepped out from behind the veil where you belong? You’re dead, and the dead have no business being among the living. He knew it took great magic for the dead to walk amongst the living, making him wary of the witch. Did she mean to harm his witch? Had she sensed his witch’s raw power from behind the veil and meant to steal it for herself with the hope of returning to the realm of the living? While it would take a great deal of magic and would upset the balance of nature, it was possible for the dead to break free of the veil’s hold and return, not as a ghost, but as a living being. An abomination always seeking out magic, drawn to it so they could steal it for themselves and remain with the living. He would not stand for it if that was what this ghostly witch’s intention was. Yet, as he looked at the witch, he didn’t sense that she meant to harm his witch. No, he sensed the love and the desire to protect his witch flowing from this ghost and settling around him. 

I mean you no harm, nor do I wish to harm the one who resides here. Jared is special to me. I watched him grow from a boy to the man he is today. I felt his magic long before it manifested and made itself known to him. From behind the veil, I heard him speak the words, felt him casting the spell to call forth a familiar, and I came to greet the one who answered his call.

From where he lay crouched in the underbrush, Jensen inched closer on silent paws toward the ghostly witch, his whiskers twitching and his tail switching back and forth in warning. Jared , he repeated, finally knowing the name of the one who had summoned him. Young and unable to harness his magic. He will do more harm than good if he does not bond with a familiar.

Matilda nodded, confirming what Jared’s potential familiar had just declared. I hadn’t counted on my passing before I was able to help him control his magic. At the time of my death, I had just enough forethought in me to allow myself to manifest before him that night and direct him to my grimoire before I slipped behind the veil.  

And how have you come to be here now? Jensen demanded from where he remained, partially hidden by the underbrush. He sensed the ghostly witch’s curiosity as to what he was and who Jared’s spell had summoned.

My magic has allowed me to slip past the veil only briefly. I do not wish to remain among the living. My time has passed. I just needed to be here to welcome Jared’s familiar, and make sure whoever answered his summoning spell meant Jared no harm. 

Sensing that the ghostly version of this witch was speaking the truth, Jensen got to his paws, shaking out his fur before sitting on his haunches. Raising his right paw, his pink tongue darted out to lick a blade of grass from his orange fur. Hearing the ghostly witch gasp, knowing that she recognized him for what he was, he lowered his paw and he raised his head, his green eyes meeting her murky ones that spoke of her age before her time among the living had ended. You know what I am, do you not?

It’s not possible… Your kind no longer exists in this world. How can this be? How have you survived all this time? Matilda questioned, looking into the green eyes of the creature that stood before her, knowing that this was no ordinary cat. In fact, the creature standing regally before her wasn’t a cat at all, despite the form he happened to take on. 

Jensen looked down at his front paws, taking a moment to distance himself from the pain of the loss he felt threatening to rise within him. Raising his head to address the ghostly witch’s question, he curled his tail around his paws. Sadly, I am the last of my kind. Those who feared us destroyed what they did not understand, wiping out an entire race dedicated to aiding those whose magic was in need of its companion. As for surviving, it is easy to do when one tends to live a solitary life and is often mistaken for a cat.  

Surely others have called for a familiar. Jared couldn’t have been the only one in need. Matilda turned toward the cottage, looking at it fondly, remembering how it used to be her home and had now become Jared’s. Lovingly cared for by the young man residing within. Turning back toward the mysterious creature, knowing that the cat was more than what it appeared to be, she prayed to the gods that he might be the one Jared needed.

Those before Jared who have cast a summoning spell for a familiar were never in need of me. Their magic was controlled. It was easy to ignore their call, knowing another familiar would answer. But this call, the spell that Jared cast was meant for me, and I have come to answer it. This witch’s magic is wild, and if he doesn’t learn to control it, his magic will consume him. Uncurling his tail from around his paws, Jensen took a few steps toward the cottage and then stopped to look back at the ghostly witch to see her form fading. Witch, your time grows short, and you have done what you intended to do. You have greeted me and told me the name of the witch I will bond with and aid as his familiar.  

Nodding, Matilda agreed. She felt her time running out, knowing that this creature long thought to have perished from existence was accurate in his take on the situation at hand. Yes, sadly, I must return to exist behind the veil.

Before you depart, tell me your name , Jensen requested, cocking his head to the side, his nose and whiskers twitching, taking in the scents all around him.

Many called me the crone, but my given name was Matilda. Please tell me yours so that I know who it is that aids Jared , Matilda pleaded, fighting to stay in the realm of the living until she had her answer.

Jensen, my name is Jensen. Do not fear for Jared. He will no longer be alone. Once he accepts me, he will have the familiar he is in need of , Jensen assured Matilda, watching as the ghostly witch lost her grip on the mortal realm, quickly fading behind the veil that separated the living from the dead. With the former occupant of the cottage now gone, he turned his attention to the one currently living there, making his way over to the door to announce his presence and put an end to the witch’s growing anxiety over the summoning spell that Jared had cast and feared would remain unanswered. He bumped himself against the door a few times, meowing loudly, and then stepped back to sit and wait, curling his tail around his paws. He lifted his head to the light when the door was pulled open, slowly blinking up at the man staring down at him. 

Sitting in the chair by the fireplace, Jared stared into the dancing flames, wondering if he had somehow made an error when casting the summoning spell Matilda had left for him to call forth a familiar. It had been over twenty-four hours since he’d spoken the words and performed the spell, yet nothing had come from it. Sighing, he shifted in the chair, sitting forward to rest his elbows on his knees and cradle his head in his hands. “I’m a failure,” he said to the empty room. Over the crackling of the fire, he heard a thumping sound coming from the cottage’s front door. Raising his head from his hands, he glanced over at the door, wondering if he’d imagined the sound. When it happened again, he got to his feet to investigate. Approaching the door, he heard what sounded like a muffled meow. Pulling open the door, he looked down to see a large cat with orange fur, with white and slightly darker orange markings throughout its fur, and green eyes staring up at him. “Who are you? Are you lost…” he started to ask and then gasped when the cat got to its paws and stepped forward, rubbing its body against his shins before darting inside the cottage. “Hey!” he protested, turning to see the cat stop to look at him before turning its back on him and sauntering over to the fire and gracefully leaping into his chair, sniffing at it before turning around three times and settling down across the seat. “Sure, come on in and make yourself at home,” he huffed, staring at the intruder, watching as the cat raised its head and blinked slowly at him before lowering its head to rest it on its front paws. Shutting the door, he leaned against it, watching the cat make itself at home in his chair in front of the fire. “You can’t…” he started to protest, the rest of his words dying on his lips when the cat raised its head and glared at him. “Wait, are you… No, you can’t be.” He shook his head, trying to clear it so he could think things through. Pushing himself off the door, he took a few steps closer to the chair and the intruder, his eyes never moving off the cat as he came to the realization of what the appearance of this cat meant. A familiar. The spell had worked. “Are you here for me?”

Hearing the question Jared had asked, Jensen huffed, wondering if this witch had somehow been dropped on his head as an infant. The question, ‘Are you here for me?’, caught his attention. Maybe Jared had been stunned by his sudden appearance. He was willing to give the witch the benefit of the doubt. Rising to his paws, he jumped onto the floor and made his way over to Jared, threading himself through the witch's legs, marking Jared with his scent, and laying claim to his witch. 

“Are you… Are you really here for me? Did the summoning spell work? Are you my familiar?” Jared asked, watching the cat’s body moving fluidly, feeling the cat rubbing itself against his legs. As he asked his questions and looked down at the cat, he realized he already knew the answers - this cat was meant to be his familiar. 

Moving out from between Jared’s legs, Jensen looked up at the witch and meowed in response to the witch’s questions before turning his back on Jared and returning to the chair and the warmth of the fire. Jumping up onto the chair, he sniffed at it again, catching the scent of Jared now mingled with his. Deciding that it was a pleasurable scent, he lowered himself down, curling himself up into a ball, and began to purr in contentment. He could hear Jared moving closer to him, and he waited patiently to see what the witch would do next. 

With the cat settled in his chair again, Jared closed the distance between them. He stood there looking down at the cat, smiling when he realized the cat’s orange fur was dotted with white spots. “The spell worked,” he said softly and then reached out to touch the cat, his fingers making contact with the soft fur. He felt the rumble of the cat’s purr, the sound becoming louder as he gently ran his fingers through the orange fur, over the cat’s back, and up to its neck, where he felt something smooth. “What’s this?”

Jared’s fingers running through his fur felt wonderful, and Jensen was loath to move but knew he had to when the witch’s finger made contact with his collar. He shifted away from Jared’s touch to sit on his haunches and present himself so that the witch could see the collar he wore, the collar he had been gifted by his parents before they had been taken from him, leaving him alone in the world until now. Like him, the collar was magical, allowing him to bond with his witch when the time came, which would be later. Now was the time for him and Jared to become acquainted with each other. He sat still, not moving, when Jared reached out a shaking hand to run his large fingers along the collar and pluck at the encased jewel hanging from his neck. 

Moving slowly so he wouldn’t spook the cat, Jared ran his fingers along the metal links of the collar down to the pendant hanging from it. The green jewel encased in the pendant matched the green of the cat’s eyes. Feeling something etched on the back of the pendant, he crouched down, hoping that the cat wouldn’t swipe at him with its paws, and gingerly turned it over, his eyes widening when he saw what was inscribed - Jensen. “Jensen,” he said, and then pulled his hand back, feeling as if he’d been burned. He looked down at his hand, seeing that he hadn’t actually been burned. He looked at the cat, understanding that the cat’s name was Jensen and he was also a creature of magic. “Your name is Jensen, and you answered my call for a familiar,” he said, watching the cat nod at him. “You… You can understand me?” he asked, astonished when the cat nodded in response. “You really are my familiar?”

Jensen huffed and then turned his back on Jared, moving across the floor slowly while he took in his new surroundings. The cottage felt welcoming, clearly offering those who possessed magic and meant no harm to the one who resided within a safe place to stay. He searched each corner of the room, jumping up on the table and then the worktable, pawing at the shelves and batting at anything within his reach. Turning his attention to the shelves, he raised himself onto his back legs with his front paws hooked over the wood so he was able to peer into the shelving and see what lay hidden farther back. Seeing nothing of interest to him, he dropped back down onto his paws and then jumped down onto the floor, ready to explore more of the cottage. He skirted around Jared, his tail wrapping around the witch’s leg, and then darted off into another room, discovering the bedroom with its large and inviting bed. Seeing the bed, he swiftly jumped onto it, sniffing at it, his whiskers twitching as he picked up the lingering scent of Jared and something not of his witch. His nose twitched as he sought out the scent that wasn’t Jared’s, finding a shawl that had been discarded at the edge of the bed. Placing a paw on it, he found the material to be soft. Liking the feel of the shawl underneath his paws, he gently pawed at it, turning himself around a few times until he found just the right spot and sank down into the softness of the bed and shawl combined, purring in satisfaction.

Jared watched Jensen with curiosity, wondering what the cat was doing. A few times, he had nearly admonished the cat for jumping onto the table and then his worktable. He walked closer to Jensen when the cat got up on his hind legs to see what the shelves contained. His hands had reached out a couple of times, ready to stop Jensen when the cat batted at a few items. “Where…?” he started to say when Jensen jumped down and darted past him. Turning, he followed Jensen into his bedroom to see the cat investigating the room and then his bed. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Jensen kneading at Matilda’s shawl, worried that the cat’s claws might rip the soft woolen material. “Hey! You can’t…” he started to protest when Jensen made himself at home on his bed, using the shawl as a soft cushion for himself. 

Hearing Jared’s voice, Jensen lazily lifted his head and slowly blinked at his witch. Cocking his head to the left and then to the right, he regarded Jared for a moment before deciding that his witch couldn’t possibly be protesting his presence on his bed. He was Jared’s intended familiar and therefore, everything that his witch owned was essentially his. The sooner Jared understood that, the better off his witch would be. Ignoring Jared, he began to purr, making his contentment known. He chirped when he felt the bed dip from Jared’s added weight, his purring increasing in volume when he felt the witch’s fingers running through his fur. His ears pricked up when he heard Jared’s baritone voice speaking to him.

“Please, Jensen…” Jared swallowed around the lump forming in his throat. He hadn’t meant to leave the shawl out, having forgotten about it after fetching the grimoire so he could perform the spell to call forth his familiar, who was now lounging on it. “The shawl… It means something to me. It’s special, irreplaceable.” 

Lifting his head, Jensen saw sadness reflected in Jared’s eyes. The shawl that he’d found soft and pleasing under his paws was precious to Jared. Understanding that Jared feared that something might happen to the shawl, he carefully got to his paws and stepped off of it, moving to the pillows at the head of the bed and making himself comfortable. With his head cradled on his paws, he watched Jared carefully pick up the shawl and fold it before storing it in the trunk.

“Thank you,” Jared whispered and then sat on the bed, propping himself up next to Jensen. Reaching out, he ran his fingers through the cat’s soft fur, listening to Jensen purr. “The shawl… It was Matilda’s. This cottage was hers before it became mine. She was a powerful witch and my friend. I miss her.”

Loss. Jensen understood loss all too well. Getting to his paws, he climbed onto Jared’s lap. Placing his front paws on Jared’s shoulders, he lifted himself onto his hind legs and rubbed his head against his witch’s jaw, scent marking Jared and offering his witch some much-needed compassion. He heard Jared’s soft laughter as he dropped down onto his paws, kneading at his witch’s thighs. Feeling Jared’s fingers running through his fur, he lowered himself down, curled up on his witch’s thighs, and began to purr, lulling both of them to sleep. 

When Jared woke, he found himself alone. Rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes, he wiped the sleep away, and then got to his feet, softly padding into the main area of the cottage searching for Jensen, wondering where the cat had disappeared to. Finding himself alone, he sat down at the table, wondering if Jensen had been a figment of his overactive imagination, his desire for a familiar having created an imaginary cat after having cast the spell that hadn’t actually worked. With a heavy sigh, he got to his feet, knowing he had chores to do, tending to his gardens, preparing salves, drying herbs, and making an appearance in the village - something he wasn’t looking forward to since every time he was there, he had a run-in with someone. Given that his spell to call a familiar hadn’t worked, he considered putting off the walk into the village, thinking it could wait a day or two. The sound of a meow caught his attention. Looking around, he saw a twitching tail making its way closer to him. “Jensen.” 

Hearing his name being spoken by Jared, Jensen stalked toward his witch from the bedroom where he’d been curled up in a tight ball under the bed. He hadn’t realized that Jared had gotten up and left the bedroom until he’d jumped up onto the bed with the intention of waking his witch. He chirped at Jared, weaving himself in and out between his witch’s legs. 

“Where did you disappear to?” Jared asked, crouching down to scratch behind Jensen’s ears. “I thought I’d imagined you.”

Jensen headbutted Jared’s knee and then sat on his haunches, curling his tail around his paws. He looked up at Jared and blinked at his witch, wondering why Jared thought he’d been imaginary. He twitched his nose when Jared reached out to pet him again and then raised his right paw. Placing his paw on Jared’s hand, he waited for his witch to realize that Jared still had one more step of the spell to complete before they were bound to each other, and he could aid his witch with controlling his magic and reveal his other form. 

“Well, I guess since you’re real, I should probably finish the spell.” Jared waited for Jensen’s reaction. Feeling the prick of claws, he chuckled. “I guess that’s your way of telling me to get on with it.”

Jensen meowed in response and then retracted his claws, careful not to draw blood. Raising his right paw to his mouth, he licked at his paw, grooming himself before lowering his paw to the floor. He waited for Jared to solidify their bond, pacing when his witch remained crouched next to him. When Jared didn’t move, he took it upon himself to get his witch to finish the spell. Jumping up onto the worktable, he stood next to the grimoire, pawing at it and meowing. 

Rising to his full height, Jared chucked. “Okay, okay, I get it. Bossy, aren’t you?” he commented. He gently shooed Jensen away from the grimoire so he could open it to the page he needed, thankful that he didn’t have to light candles or pour a salt circle. All he had to do was read the words and claim Jensen as his familiar. “Okay, I guess here goes… Well… Everything,” he said.

Stepping closer to the grimoire, Jensen pawed at the page, eager to have Jared read the binding spell so that their bond could form. Sitting back on his haunches, he curled his tail around his paws and looked up at Jared, waiting for his witch to speak those final and crucial words.

Keeping his eyes on the grimoire, Jared read out loud the words on the page that would create the bond between himself and Jensen. “I stand before you, of open heart and with honest intentions. I offer myself to you, my accepted familiar, so that we may bind ourselves to one another. You, my familiar, answered my call willingly, and I, in turn, accept your companionship and your ability to aid me with my magic. Today, let this vow create an everlasting bond between witch and familiar.” With the last word spoken, Jared reached out to pet Jensen. When his fingers connected with the cat’s fur, he felt a jolt of magic being exchanged between himself and Jensen. Wide-eyed, he gasped when he realized the exchange of magic was an actual bond forming between himself and Jensen, with him being able to sense his familiar in the back of his mind.

With the bond forming between himself and Jared, Jensen raised himself up onto his hind legs and placed his paws on his witch’s shoulders. As he did the night before, he rubbed his head along Jared’s jaw, scent-marking his witch as his. Feeling Jared’s fingers running along his back, he began to purr and then lick across his witch’s skin.

“That tickles,” Jared laughed, and then gently eased Jensen down until the cat was standing on four paws. “I’m gonna go put this away for safekeeping.” He pointed at the grimoire. “Then I’ve got work to do in my gardens. You can join me if you’d like.” Picking up the grimoire, he carried it back into the bedroom and stored it in the trunk before making his way back into the main part of the cottage to find Jensen sitting by the back door. “Guess this means you at least want to go outside.” Opening the door, he watched Jensen dart past him and disappear into the underbrush. While he tended to his gardens, he would stop and look for Jensen, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of the cat. Every once and a while, he saw an orange tail darting here and there, making him smile. When his gardening was done, he turned in the direction he’d last seen Jensen’s tail, hoping he might be able to find the cat. “Jensen!” he called out when he didn’t hear movement coming from the underbrush or see the cat’s tail poking up. 

Here , Jensen called, waiting for Jared to respond to him.

Hearing a man’s voice, Jared turned around, sure that he’d heard the voice coming from somewhere near his cottage. 

Jared , Jensen called out from the rock he’d found that received just the right amount of sunlight for him to relax on, waiting for Jared to answer him. When no response came, he tried again. Jared, our bond allows us to speak telepathically . 

Sure that he was losing his mind, Jared shook his head, trying to clear it. Was it possible? Had the bond that had formed between him and Jensen created such a manner of speech for them?

Yes , Jensen replied. Sensing that Jared would need more coaxing to understand what their bond had created, he jumped off the rock and stalked toward Jared, finding his witch standing by the back door looking perplexed.

“Did you…” Jared started to ask. Shaking his head, he chuckled at himself. There was no way Jensen could have spoken to him, and certainly not in his mind. 

Sitting on his haunches, Jensen looked up at Jared. Yes, I spoke to you. Yes, you can hear me in your mind. You can speak to me this way as well. No, you’re not losing your mind. Any other questions?

Jared stared at Jensen, his mouth gaping, while he tried to make sense of things. The spell he’d cast to call for a familiar had worked. He’d followed that spell with the binding spell, ensuring that Jensen would remain with him as his familiar. Now, he’d just found out the side effects of both spells, something that hadn’t been recorded within either spell. How was this even possible? Chuckling to himself, he realized he already knew the answer - Magic. “So, let me get this straight, because of our bond and because you’re my familiar, this is possible between us?”

Yes, because you’re my witch and I’m your familiar , Jensen confirmed. Now , you need to try speaking to me with your mind.

Taking a breath, Jared decided to give what Jensen asked of him a try. Okay, this is strange. Can you hear me?

Yes , Jensen answered before getting up and walking into the cottage, where he made himself comfortable on one of the overstuffed chairs. He heard Jared’s footsteps falter after closing the door before continuing on to do whatever it was his witch needed to take care of. He knew his presence would be enough to help Jared gain control over his magic, and if he needed to step in, he was more than capable of doing that, so Jared wouldn’t hurt himself or anyone else. 

Seeing Jensen curled up in Matilda’s chair caught Jared off guard, making him stop in his tracks. He thought about trying to get Jensen to move out of the chair he was curled up on, wanting to tell his familiar who the chair belonged to, and then reminded himself that Matilda was gone. 

Raising his head, Jensen looked up at Jared. She was here to welcome me. She loves you. 

Finding it difficult to vocalize, Jared did the next best thing. Matilda? She was here? Is she still…?

No, her time among the living was short. She felt you cast the spell and stepped out from behind the veil to greet me. She wanted to make sure that whoever answered your summoning call meant you no harm.

You met her. Jared found himself feeling more secure with his acceptance of Jensen and their bond. Can we stop this? Speaking telepathically? He needed to know how this worked between them. There were things about himself that he wanted to keep private.

Yes, we each have the ability to shut the other out so we can keep our thoughts private. Just think of putting up a wall around your thoughts. It may take some time, but you’ll get it if it’s something you want or need.

Oh, okay. I’ve gotta… Jared pointed at his worktable and then turned away from Jensen, ready to get to work on the spells he wanted to master.

We need to protect our home. Do you know of any wardings? We should cast them around the cottage to keep us safe. 

Jared turned back to Jensen. “What? Why?”

For protection. Jensen huffed at Jared. He’d thought he’d made that obvious when he’d said they needed to protect their home. There are things that exist in this world that would do you harm, and me harm, because of what we are. The wardings will also help protect you while you’re working your magic.

“Oh, right. I’ll figure something out.” Jared hadn’t thought of something like that before. Matilda had never mentioned anything, but he supposed taking such a precaution wouldn’t hurt. 

Three days later, Jared, with Jensen’s help, he placed wardings around their home. He was tired from the exertion of using so much magic, but he was also pleased with himself. Since summoning Jensen, he’d been able to control his magic and hadn’t had any backlashes, no shaking of the cottage, no levitating furniture that ended up crashing to the floor and breaking. For the first time since his magic had manifested, he felt in control. I’ve gotta tend to my gardens.

I need a nap.

Jared couldn’t help but laugh at Jensen’s declaration. His familiar loved to catnap, especially if there was a sunbeam involved, or an overstuffed chair, or his bed. So, pretty much anywhere was a good place for Jensen to nap. Come on, I’ll let you in. Opening the back door, he watched Jensen dart inside the cottage, his familiar disappearing to find a comfortable place to nap. Enjoy!

You could join me. 

Some of us have work to do.

Your loss.

“Jensen?” Jared called out, wiping the sweat from his eyes as he stepped inside the cool confines of the cottage. “Where’d you get to?” he asked when he didn’t see his familiar curled up on what he now called Jensen’s chair. Stepping into his bedroom, he stopped, his breath catching in his throat when he saw a naked man lying on his bed. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my home?” he demanded, his fear turning to anger at feeling violated. He watched the man stir on his bed and then sit up. 

Sitting up, Jensen blinked slowly at Jared, confused at first by his witch’s reaction. Realizing why Jared had reacted the way he had, he smiled at his witch. “It’s me.”

“Me? I don’t know you. Get the hell out of my home before I make you regret ever stepping foot inside my cottage!” Jared bellowed. 

Understanding Jared’s panic and anger, Jensen decided to try a different route. Jared, it’s me, Jensen. This is just my other form.

Hearing Jensen’s voice in his head halted Jared from gathering his magic, ready to defend himself and his home from the stranger who had invaded it. “Wait… What?” he asked, dumbfounded.

I’m able to shift from my cat form to my human form. Slowly, so he wouldn’t scare Jared, Jensen rose from the bed, not giving a care to the fact that he was standing there naked. To him, being naked was as natural as being in his cat form. Look at me. See me.

Jared blinked rapidly. Trying to make sense of things, he shook his head and then did as he’d been asked. He looked at the man standing before him to see startling green eyes staring back at him. He noticed the collar around the man’s neck, and he found himself stepping closer to see it. Reaching out with a shaking hand, he ran his fingers along it, feeling how familiar it was under his fingertips. Picking up the pendant that hung from it, he felt the familiar burst of magic burn his fingertips as it had done the first time he’d touched the pendant. Pulling his hand back, he shook it and then took a step backward from Jensen. 

“Do you believe me?” Jensen asked, this time speaking to Jared.

“How is this even possible?”

“You’re a witch who possesses magic, and you’re asking me how this is possible?”

“I mean…” Bringing his hands to his face, Jared rubbed his fingertips along his forehead. “I mean, what are you? Clearly, you’re magical… But I don’t understand…”

“I am magical,” Jensen agreed. “I’m what you’d call a shifter. I’m able to shift from one form to the other.”

“So, you can become anything?”

Laughing, Jensen shook his head. “No, it doesn’t work like that. I only have two forms - this,” he said, waving a hand over himself, “Or my cat form.”

“Oh.” Jared had felt those feelings before when he’d been in town and he’d come face-to-face with Thomas, a strapping man a few years older than him. He’d felt arousal and a pull toward the man, helping him realize that he preferred to bed a man and not a woman, adding to his oddity and keeping him away from the village he’d grown up in. He didn’t know of anyone else who had these feelings and had certainly never seen another act on them, be it men or women. His desire was just another thing that made him different, that made him keep others at arm’s reach. His magical abilities had scared people, even his own mother and father, and he knew his decision to reside in the crone’s cottage had been the right one. Removing himself from the village lessened the chance that he might harm someone because he hadn’t been able to get a handle on his magic. He knew he would never be able to get over the grief he would carry if he harmed anyone, especially his mother and father. Now, as he looked at Jensen, his strong shoulders and trim waist, pale skin dotted with cinnamon-colored freckles, he couldn’t help but feel aroused by the creature standing before him in the guise of a human man. It was wrong for him to feel this… This want for the one he’d summoned through a spell to bind his magic to so he would be able to control it and no longer wreak havoc. Forcing himself to turn away, he pulled open the wardrobe and rummaged around, searching for something Jensen could put on because he needed to distract himself from the feelings rising within him. Pulling out a tunic, he tossed it to Jensen. “Here, put that on because… Well, you can’t just walk around naked.”

Huffing, Jensen caught the tunic and pulled it on. “Why?”

“Why what?” Jared asked, glancing over at Jensen to see that he was at least somewhat covered. 

“Why can’t I walk around naked?”

“Because you just can’t. People don’t do that,” Jared answered, his exasperation rising. Jensen was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it. 

“Well, that seems stupid,” Jensen grumbled, not at all impressed with the fact that he was expected to wear clothing.

To distract himself from the image burned into his mind from seeing Jensen naked, Jared asked, “Are there more like you?” He’d never heard of shifters being mentioned by Matilda, and he was pretty sure the crone would have told him about them.

“No, I’m the last of my kind. We were hunted down and killed because of our magical ability to shift.”

“I’m sorry.” Jared couldn’t imagine being the last witch in existence or dealing with such loss as Jensen had endured. 

“The pain lessens with each passing year, but I doubt I’ll ever be over it even though it happened long ago.”

“How… How old are you?” Looking at Jensen, he would have to say that he was only a few years older than him.

Jensen shrugged. “I stopped marking the years after I turned one hundred.”

Jared’s eyes widened. “One hundred,” he repeated.

Smiling, Jensen explained, “Yes, those of us who possess magic tend to live long lives.”

“Oh… Matilda mentioned something about living a long life, I just never put the two together.”

“Yes, we do.”

“Will you be staying in this form?” Jared waved his hands at Jensen, suddenly feeling awkward for wanting Jensen to remain as he was. 

“There will be times when I will prefer to be in this form. There will be many times when I shift into my cat form. Why, does this form bother you?”

“No!” Jared blurted out, feeling his cheeks beginning to burn from his embarrassment. Jensen’s current form definitely didn’t bother him. In fact, he found it quite pleasing, which he thought should bother him, but it didn’t. “No, I’m fine with it and your cat form. I was just wondering. It’s just going to take me a little time to get used to this.” He waved his hands at Jensen again. “I mean, the fact that you can shift.”

“If you prefer me in my cat form, that can be easily arranged,” Jensen offered, pulling the tunic off and dropping it to the floor.

“What are you…” Jared didn’t get to finish his sentence, watching while Jensen easily shifted into his cat form and then jumped up onto the bed. “That’s… Amazing,” he whispered, awed by what he’d just witnessed. Reaching out, he ran his fingers through Jensen’s fur, enjoying the sound of his familiar purring. I can’t believe you answered my call for a familiar. 

You were in need of a familiar, and I felt the pull to be yours.

I guess we’re both lucky.

As an answer to Jared’s statement, Jensen scent-marked his witch before turning and plopping down on Jared’s pillows, making himself comfortable. He curled up into a ball, tucking his nose under his paws, and closed his eyes. 

Jared stood for a few moments watching Jensen, amazed at his luck at having such a magical creature as his familiar. Realizing that he was staring at the shifter, he shook himself out of his stupor and then made his way out to his worktable, where he lost himself in his work, not stopping until he heard a soft meow and then felt Jensen rubbing against his leg.  

Over the next couple of weeks, Jared found Jensen’s companionship welcoming and enjoyable, whether his familiar was in his cat or human form. He never pushed for more than what Jensen was willing to give him in either form, yet he found himself wanting more. He did his best to keep his inappropriate thoughts about Jensen in his human form to himself, but he still feared that even though he’d learned to wall off those feelings, they might somehow bleed through, making things between them awkward. He soon found that his worry over his growing feelings for Jensen was for naught when one night, while lying in bed looking up at the darkened ceiling, his bedroom door was pushed open and he saw the shifter standing there in the doorway. Raising himself up on his elbows, he looked at Jensen and realized the shifter was naked. “Jensen,” he whispered, and then went silent when Jensen entered the bedroom and made his way over to his bed. “What… What are you doing?” he asked when Jensen pulled the bedcovers down and slipped into bed with him. “Jensen…”

Having sensed Jared’s growing feelings for him, Jensen had taken it upon himself to act on his own growing feelings. Shifting into his human form, he slipped into Jared’s bed and stopped his witch from speaking further by kissing Jared. Feeling Jared responding to his kiss, he deepened it, not stopping until they were both panting for breath. “I want what you want,” he said when he was able to speak. 

Cupping Jensen’s face with his right hand, Jared shook his head. “How could you… You felt it through our bond. Are you sure about this?” 

“If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be naked in your bed.” Leaning in, Jensen kissed Jared again, hard and needy, and then murmured, “Why aren’t you naked?”

Chuckling at Jensen’s single-mindedness, Jared pulled away from the shifter long enough to pull his clothes off, letting them fall to the floor, and then reached out to pull Jensen to him, shivering at the touch of the shifter’s skin against his. Shifting so Jensen was underneath him, he kissed his way down the shifter’s stomach, savoring the sound of Jensen purring. He couldn’t help but wonder what Jensen would sound like when he made love to him. Would Jensen moan or would he purr?

Make love to me and find out.

That’s an invitation I won’t refuse. Jared reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the small jar of oil he used for himself and poured some onto his fingers. 

Jensen purred in response, a deep rumble forming in his chest that worked its way up to his throat and turned into a moan when he felt Jared’s slick fingers prodding at his hole. His purring intensified, becoming louder as Jared worked him open with his fingers. 

When Jensen was able to take three of his fingers, Jared withdrew them. Slicking his throbbing cock with the oil, he slowly pushed into Jensen, inching himself in until he was fully sheathed in Jensen’s fluttering channel. Leaning down, Jared captured Jensen's lips in a heated kiss, distracting him until Jensen had adjusted to being breached, not moving until Jensen bucked his hips. He pulled out and thrust back in, loving the sound of Jensen’s moans. 

Reaching up, Jensen pushed Jared’s hair out of his eyes, wanting to see his face while Jared made love to him. “Jared,” he moaned, arching his back when Jared hit that sweet spot within him, making him see stars. Snaking a hand between their bodies, he wrapped his fingers around his cock, fisting himself in time with Jared’s thrusts, pushing himself over the edge. He came with a cry, spilling his release between their bodies.

Feeling Jensen clenching around him pushed Jared over the edge, and he came, calling out Jensen’s name. He felt his arms give out on him, and he barely managed to roll them onto their sides before he collapsed on top of Jensen. When he was able to move, he sought out Jensen’s lips, kissing him softly. “I love you,” he said and then buried his face in the crook of Jensen’s neck, suddenly feeling as if he’d laid himself bare, sure that Jensen was about to tell him that he didn’t feel the same way that Jensen enjoyed their intimacy, but didn’t want more than that from him. 

“You’re wrong,” Jensen said softly. “I do love you, and I want whatever you’re willing to give me.”

“The bond,” Jared grumbled, having forgotten that they were able to pick up on what each other was feeling and thinking through their bond. 

“Yes, the bond.”

“A blessing and a curse… Mostly a blessing.” Jared shifted so he was lying on his back with Jensen in his arms. “I want a life with you, if you’re willing.”

“I want everything with you,” Jensen admitted, and then laid his head on Jared’s chest, softly purring and lulling them to sleep. 

Each morning after their first night together, Jared would wake first and quietly slip from their bed to tend to his gardens before returning to their bedroom to wake Jensen. “I’m going to sit on the porch, would you care to join me?” he asked, not taking his eyes off Jensen, who was currently curled up in their bed. Leaning against the door jamb, he tilted his head to the right and crossed his arms over his chest while he stood there waiting for Jensen’s answer, knowing most likely it would come in the form of a grumble. While Jensen took his human form more often than not these days, he still acted like a cat, hating to wake up and wanting to be catered to, something he had no complaints with. Jensen enriched his life, took away the isolation he’d been dealing with, and had stabilized his magic to the point where he no longer feared that he would harm himself or another. 

Cracking open a green eye, Jensen regarded Jared from the bed with a scowl. “No,” he answered and then closed his eyes before reaching out to pat Jared’s empty side of the bed. “Come back to bed.” He burrowed further into the warm bedding, purring, attempting to lure Jared back into their bed.

Licking his lips, knowing Jensen was naked underneath the bedding, Jared shook his head. “As tempting as that invitation is, some of us don’t like to sleep all day.” He heard Jensen’s purring intensify, and he found himself walking toward the bed to kneel on one leg. Leaning forward, he placed his lips on Jensen’s sleep-warm skin, kissing his shoulder. “You do realize you need to get up at some point, don’t you?” 

“Not if you come back to bed,” Jensen responded, blinking lazily up at Jared. 

“Not going to happen. I’m going to sit on the porch for a bit, and then I have work to do,” Jared announced, forcing himself off the bed and away from the temptation Jensen was for him.

“Your loss,” Jensen grumbled, watching Jared walk away from their bed and disappear from their bedroom. When Jared didn’t return to bed, he pushed aside the bedcovers and got to his feet. If Jared intended to work, then he needed to check the wardings they had placed around their home to protect Jared when he performed magic, just in case something went wrong and to protect them from anyone who might wish to do them harm. With a forlorn look back at the ever-so-inviting bed, he made his way out to the main area of the cabin to find it empty and that Jared had been true to his word. Grumbling about being awake and not having Jared’s body warmth to keep him warm and content, he stepped out onto the porch and met Jared’s wide eyes.

Hearing the sound of approaching footsteps, Jared hid his grin behind his hand, knowing that since he’d refused to give in to what Jensen wanted, the shifter had been lured out of bed, not wanting to remain there by himself. When the footsteps got louder, he looked up to see Jensen standing there naked, his pale and freckled skin on display. “Jens… Jensen, you can’t…” He forced himself to look away from Jensen and toward the empty path that led to their home, relieved to see that no one had ventured to their cottage this morning, not that many paid them a visit. Most of the villagers preferred to wait for when he made a trip into town to request his services. It was only on a rare occasion, such as an illness needing a tincture, that anyone from the village showed up on their doorstep. Still, it didn’t mean that Jensen could parade around naked, something he’d thought Jensen finally understood. “Jensen, why aren’t you wearing any clothing?” he asked, turning his attention back to Jensen, his cock twitching in interest at the sight before him. 

“I don’t need them.” Jensen stood there with his hands on his hips, glowering at Jared. 

“Yes, you do. I thought we’d discussed the need for you to wear clothing when we’re not in the privacy of our bedroom,” Jared pointed out, finding himself unable to look beyond Jensen’s hips.

Jensen leveled his green eyes at Jared, smirking when he saw the blush creeping up his throat and spreading across Jared’s cheeks. He knew that Jared was appreciative of his human form if last night’s coupling had been anything to go by. He could still feel the effects of their coupling, how Jared had held him down and breached him, making him see stars. Raising his right index finger to his face, he said, “Jared, my eyes are up here.”

Blinking several times to clear his thoughts from how good it had felt to have Jensen writhing underneath him last night, he slowly looked up into Jensen’s eyes to see the mirth reflected in those green orbs. “Wha… What?” he stammered, forcing himself to remain seated and not get up and crowd Jensen back into their bedroom. 

“I’m going to check on the wardings,” Jensen announced and then jumped off the porch, changing into his cat for mid-leap. When his paws hit the ground, he glanced over his shoulder, his tail twitching, to see that Jared was watching him, those multicolored obs tracking his slightest movements. With a chirp directed at Jared, he turned his attention back to his task and took off running, disappearing into the underbrush.

Jared sat on the porch in contemplation, looking out over the quiet forest he called his home. Jensen had roamed off in his cat form a while ago, needing to stretch his legs and strengthen the magical wards they had placed around their home. His heart was heavy as he sat there thinking of Jensen. He hadn’t meant to fall in love with the magical creature, but he had, and to his surprise, his feelings were reciprocated by Jensen. They weren’t just a witch and a familiar bound together by magic; they were something more. They were, if he dared to label what they were, a bonded pair, and while that made him incredibly happy, it also saddened him. Jensen was long-lived, a magical creature that had been alive for far longer than Jared could ever hope to live. What would happen to Jensen once Jared died? That thought troubled him, and he had no idea how to approach the subject with Jensen. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, not having realized that Jensen had returned, using the back door to enter their cottage and hopefully dress. 

“For someone who hasn’t said a word, your thoughts scream out,” Jensen teased, trying to draw Jared into a conversation. 

“Sorry,” Jared mumbled, not daring to look up at Jensen. 

Pulling his hand off of Jared’s shoulder, Jensen joined him, sitting in the empty chair next to Jared. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s bothering you,” he urged softly, debating on whether or not to reach out and take Jared’s hand in his. He remained unmoving, giving Jared the space he needed, hoping he would confide in him.

Glancing over at Jensen, Jared was relieved to see that he was clothed, knowing that after spending so many years in his cat form in solitude, at times, Jensen’s ability to understand social norms was lacking. While he had no problem with Jensen being naked inside their home now that he was used to it, the fact that Jensen still didn’t see his issue with him walking around outside and not wearing clothing was a problem to be dealt with another day. “It’s nothing,” he huffed, his mind whirling with thoughts he couldn’t voice. 

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing,” Jensen admonished. “It’s something, or I wouldn’t be able to feel your inner turmoil.” Shifting in his chair so he was looking at Jared and not over the forest, he met Jared’s guarded eyes. “Or have you forgotten that we are bonded?” 

“No,” Jared said sadly. “No, I haven’t.” The bond that had formed the day he had accepted Jensen as his familiar didn’t just stabilize his magic; it allowed them a connection on a deeper level. Now that they were intimate, the bond between the witch and his familiar had taken on a completely different meaning. “I just…” Bringing his hands to his head, he ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it a mess and not caring about the state of his hair. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he finally said. Getting to his feet, he ignored the look of hurt mixed with concern on Jensen’s face and walked inside, ready to get to work and create the potions and salves the villagers had requested. He was surprised when Jensen didn’t follow him, joining him as he normally did to aid him with the magic he would be wielding. Forcing aside the dejected feeling threatening to overwhelm him, he set about gathering the herbs and other ingredients he would need, setting them down on his work table. 

Remaining on the porch, Jensen leaned against the door jamb, watching Jared while he worked, knowing that with Jared’s heightened emotions and his refusal to talk to him, whatever it was that Jared was attempting wouldn’t have the outcome he was hoping for. 

“Damn it!” Jared bellowed when the spell backfired on him, a plume of black smoke billowing up from the bowl, knowing it should have been white.

“If you cannot be honest with me, how can you expect your magic not to react the way it is?” Jensen asked while he stood in the doorway.

“Jensen,” Jared huffed, annoyed with himself and his familiar. Looking up from the bowl, he glared at Jensen, watching Jensen shake his head at him.

“Fine,” Jensen murmured, knowing that any attempt to push Jared to speak to him would be useless. If Jared was going to turn his back on him, then his next course of action was to remove himself from the situation. Turning away from Jared, he made his way into their bedroom to strip off his clothing, folding it neatly as Jared had requested and placing them on the bed. Arching his back, he closed his eyes and he let himself shift into his cat form again. With a soft meow, he left the bedroom and darted for the still-open cottage door, disappearing into the sunlight to find a place to hide until Jared was ready to talk to him. 

Hearing Jensen’s meow, Jared watched as the shifter appeared in his cat form and ran for the open door. “Jensen!” he called out, suddenly hit with a wave of sadness that he knew wasn’t his own. Crossing to the open door, he saw the tip of Jensen’s tail disappearing into the foliage and knew the shifter wouldn’t be returning any time soon. “Please… Jensen… I’m sorry,” he called out, hoping to hear a chirp from Jensen in response. When none came, he closed his eyes, using their bond to try and locate Jensen, suddenly feeling scared when he realized he couldn’t feel Jensen through their bond. “Jensen?” he called out again, stepping off the porch in the direction that Jensen had disappeared in. “Please… I can’t feel you…”

At first, Jensen ignored Jared. If Jared didn’t want to talk to him or tell him what was wrong, then he would make himself scarce until Jared did. Needing space from Jared and doing his best to drown out the hurt he was feeling from being shut out by Jared, he did the only thing he could think of: he shut down the connection they shared through their bond. That disconnect, while unsettling, would give them both the clarity they needed. Neither he nor Jared would be able to feel what the other felt, and they wouldn’t be able to communicate with each other. Hearing the panic in Jared’s voice, he momentarily opened their connection. Time apart , he conveyed through their bond and then waited for Jared’s response.

“So, you’re shutting me out because I won’t talk to you?” Jared yelled, feeling his frustration growing. 

Do not yell at me , Jensen responded, doing his best to keep his emotions at bay. Whatever it was that Jared was dealing with and keeping from him, he was determined not to add his hurt feelings to the mix. 

“This is childish. You’re being childish!” Jared called out, knowing he was also being the same way at that moment.

You clearly do not need me . Knowing if he conveyed any more through their bond, he would only manage to flood Jared with his sadness at being shut out, Jensen closed off their bond again.

His anger fueled him, making Jared overlook the hint of sadness he’d just felt from Jensen. “Fine!” he yelled. “Stay out here and sulk like a child. I have work to do!” Turning, he stomped back up the porch and into the cottage. With a flick of his wrist and a bit of magic, he slammed the door closed and stood in the middle of the room, clenching and unclenching his fists, refusing to go back outside and smooth things over between himself and Jensen. 

Jensen curled up on the rock he’d discovered one morning while out strengthening the wardings he and Jared had placed in the forest to protect their home. The sun’s rays filtered through the canopy of leaves, warming the rock and making it an ideal resting spot for him when he was in his cat form. He’d heard the anger in Jared’s voice directed at him and couldn’t understand it. He had only tried to help Jared, wanting Jared to open up to him and tell him what was troubling him. Above all else, he was Jared’s familiar, and it was his duty to aid his witch, yet it had been made clear to him by Jared that he wasn’t needed. The only logical thing for him to do was to remove himself from the cottage, separating himself from Jared so that his witch could work out whatever it was that was bothering him. He remained outside long after the sun’s rays no longer warmed the rock or his fur, hoping Jared would come out and find him, wanting to finally talk. When Jared hadn’t, he began to worry, thinking that what his witch had been keeping from him was the fact that Jared had changed his mind about them, that he no longer wanted to be intimate with him, and Jared was trying to figure out a way to tell them that he only wanted him as his familiar. If that were the case, he would respect Jared’s wishes and restrict himself to only offering Jared aid when working with his magic. He would no longer shift into his human form, and he would remain in the main part of the cottage. He would be lonely, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t known loneliness before. 

Uncurling himself from the now uncomfortable position he’d been sleeping in, Jensen jumped off the rock, landing on his paws, and then stretched. After shaking out his fur, he started walking back toward the cottage, careful to keep his connection to Jared closed so his witch wouldn’t pick up on his heartbreak. When he reached the porch and saw that the door was closed, he contemplated curling up on the porch to sleep for the night, knowing it wouldn’t be the first time he hadn’t slept in a warm home before. 

Hearing movement on the porch, Jared got up from his chair by the fireplace and went to investigate. Pulling open the door, he saw Jensen sitting on the porch with his tail curled around his paws. He watched as Jensen uncurled his tail and got onto his paws, slinking past him without rubbing up against him as he normally did, and disappeared into the cottage. After closing the door, he turned to see the tip of Jensen’s tail disappearing into the bedroom. Following Jensen, he stood by the bed, watching as the shifter shed his cat form to stand there naked, not moving or looking at him. He tried to reach out to Jensen through their connection, only to find that Jensen hadn’t opened up to him. “Jensen,” he started to say, only to be cut off by Jensen. 

“If you no longer wish for us to be intimate…” Jensen found it hard to speak, and he pushed down the lump forming in his throat. “If you do not want me as anything other than your familiar, all you had to do was tell me,” he said and then shifted back into his cat form, slinking out of the bedroom to find someplace else in the cottage to make his bed. He would go back to living in just his cat form, aiding Jared with his magic, and offering nothing else to his witch but that of companionship as Jared’s familiar. He settled on the floor by the fireplace, finding it warmed by the fire and inviting. He settled down, curling himself into a tight ball, protecting himself from the cold he knew would settle over the room during the night when the fire died, just as much as the ache he felt in his heart from Jared’s rejection. 

It took several moments for Jensen’s words to penetrate Jared’s mind and register what had been said to him. When he realized what Jensen said, that the shifter had come to a conclusion that was so far from the truth, he turned and walked out of their bedroom, searching for Jensen. He found Jensen still in his cat form, curled up in front of the fireplace. Determined to make Jensen understand that he’d been wrong, he walked over to the shifter and reached down to pick Jensen up, ignoring the indignant yowl. 

Hearing approaching footsteps, Jensen’s ears twisted, but he didn’t lift his head. He felt the added warmth of Jared and knew his witch was standing next to him, but he remained curled up. Feeling Jared’s large hands on him, picking him up, he yowled in protest, hissing, but not clawing at Jared, figuring that his witch was about to toss him outside, which was Jared’s right since it was his cottage after all. To his surprise, Jared didn’t bring him to the cottage’s door, but carried him into the bedroom, firmly closing the door by kicking it closed. He found himself being placed gently down on the bed and then felt the bed dipping with Jared’s added weight. He remained motionless, waiting to see what Jared’s intentions were. 

With Jensen on the bed next to him, still in his cat form, Jared reached out to run his fingers through his fur. “I’m sorry,” he said, knowing he had to explain himself, hoping he could fix things between them. “I’m scared,” he admitted. “Not of you or what’s developed between us. I don’t regret that. I’m just… I’m just worried about you.”

Jensen chirped, showing his interest and confusion at what Jared had just said to him. He raised his head to look up at Jared, pawing at him, prodding at him to continue speaking. 

Feeling Jensen’s paw on him, understanding what he wanted, Jared nodded. “I love you and I know you’ve lived a long life.” He scratched behind Jensen’s ears, trying to find the words he needed to convey his fears to Jensen. “I’ll never live as long of a life as you have. I may be a witch, but I’m also human. I know my magic will help me live a long life, but it’s nothing compared to you, and I don’t want you to be alone when I’m gone,” he said, finally admitting his fears to Jensen and hoping in some way that the shifter would understand and forgive him. He felt the bed shift with Jensen’s movements, and the soft fur that he’d been stroking changed to smooth, warm skin underneath his fingertips. 

Now understanding what had been bothering Jared, Jensen shifted into his human form. Kneeling beside Jared, ignoring the coolness of the room nipping at his exposed skin, he gently cupped Jared's face in his hands. “That is what has been bothering you?”

“Yes,” Jared whispered, feeling his heart beating rapidly when he looked into Jensen’s green eyes. “I never meant to hurt you or make you think I’d changed my mind about us.”

“Jared, I’m bonded to you. That means my life is entwined with yours. We are lovers, but I am your familiar. It’s my purpose. It’s what I was created for, to aid my witch and as a familiar, bound to you, once you pass from this world to behind the veil, so will I.”

While that news should have saddened him, that his death would result in the end of Jensen’s life as well, it didn’t. It soothed Jared in a way he couldn’t explain to himself, let alone Jensen. “I’m sorry for keeping my fears from you. I just didn’t know how to talk to you about it.”

Placing one hand over Jared’s heart, Jensen looked into his eyes. “Just always be honest with me.”

“I will, I promise,” Jared vowed. 

“How about we get under the bedcovers? In this form and without my fur, I’m getting cold.” Tilting his head, Jensen motioned toward the head of the bed, hoping Jared would agree to his suggestion.

Smiling, Jared nodded and leaned in to kiss Jensen. “Come on, I’ll warm you up.” He watched Jensen scramble to pull the bedcovers down while he quickly pulled his clothes off, letting them fall to the floor. After climbing under the bedcovers, he pulled Jensen into his arms. “I love you, always and forever.”

“I will love you until the end of time.”

Jared lay there with Jensen in his arms, happy, content, and in love. He’d never in his wildest dreams thought it possible that by casting a spell to call forth a familiar, he’d find the love of his life, yet he had. And he knew that even when he took his last breath, he would do that with Jensen by his side and that their love would still exist even when they slipped beyond the veil.