Witchy Sour(64)

Slowing my walk, I came to a standstill in the middle of a small clearing, the patch of clear grass surrounded by trees. Underbrush snaked out from the edges of the darkness, their tangled masses snarling over the grassy forest floor. I held my breath and listened.

At first, there were no sounds except for the whoosh of leaves brushing against one another, peppered with the staccato snap of twigs in the distance as creatures prowled outside of my line of sight. A dull thwacking repeated itself over and over again, nearly driving me insane until I found the source just on the outskirts of the clearing—a branch knocking against its tree trunk.

My shoulders relaxed for a moment as I watched the branch in its rhythmic song, relieved that the sound wasn’t coming from something alive. However, my spine stiffened as something beyond the edge of the clearing caught my attention. I took a few steps closer.

As I reached the edge of the grassy patch, the object that’d caught my eye shone brighter. Except it wasn’t an object per say, but the subtle glow of light. Squinting, I couldn’t make out anything except for a dull, bluish aura—like that of a lava lamp. It neither illuminated The Forest nor provided a clear path. It merely existed.

Like a moth to a flame, I took a hesitant step outside of the clearing. My gut told me to turn back, since this could easily be a trap of some sort to draw me out of the open space and into the gnarly depths of the trees. But the fact of the matter was that I was utterly, completely lost.

If I didn’t find a way out of here soon, I had no doubt that this night would be a tough one. At best, I’d survive a night in The Forest, curled up in a ball and terrified out of my mind. At worst, I wouldn’t see morning. My only chance was to find help, and to find help, I needed to follow the light.

I stopped every few feet to listen, but there were no sounds at all now. It was quiet, too quiet. Another step brought me right up to the edge of a small island circled by a tiny babbling brook. It wasn’t an island in the traditional sense. Instead, it reminded me of a castle surrounded by a moat. This moat sparkled, however, glistening with the subtle shimmer of magic.

Someone—a wizard—had been here. It might have been days, or weeks, or even months—but not longer than that. The sizzle of magic was fresh enough in the air that this spell couldn’t be over a few months old. After a time, even the strongest of spells dimmed, and this one was still going strong.

I reached out a hand, tentatively feeling for any barrier or trigger, but there was nothing. My hand passed easily over the space above the water without ill effect. The temperature was much cooler. Cool enough that the skin on my arm broke out with goose bumps. When I retracted it to my side, it returned to normal.

The island in the middle of the water was small, about the same size as the clearing I’d just left. However, a thick fog shrouded the moat and prevented me from seeing past the water. It was from the center of the fog that the blue glowed brightest. I’d have to cross the stream to see what lay inside.

My gut told me to walk away, but my mind said differently. I wanted to step over the moat and into the fog, to find whatever was causing the light to glow blue. There was a chance I wouldn’t make it, but…

I jumped over the fog and cleared the stream without much effort. I landed on the island, my body passing through the outer layer of fog and freezing my skin for one flash of time. When I landed on the ground in a crouched position, my hands up in a kung fu stance, all was quiet.

My skin returned to normal temperature, and the fog had all but disappeared. It’d moved to the outskirts of the small island once more. Instead of giving off a sense of foreboding, it now felt like a protective outer layer. Turning my gaze inward, I inhaled a deep breath. I’d discovered the source of the blue light.

I’d also found The Magic of Mixology.





Chapter 22



My heart raced as I rushed forward to scoop up my lifeline to the Mixology world. Just before my fingers touched the cover of the book, however, I paused and surveyed the surroundings. The grass here was lighter, a dulled, pale green compared to the rest of The Forest. Golden letters glinted up from the cover of the book, the words The Magic of Mixology spelled out in gorgeous penmanship. It’d been weeks since the spellbook had been taken from me—weeks filled with stress and unanswered questions. My hope of ever finding the book had been rapidly fading.

But now it lay before me. Perfectly intact and relatively untouched, the cover was closed, though a leaf poking out from the top of the pages made me think someone had flipped through it recently and saved a spell with nature’s bookmark. I wanted to pick it up, hold it close to my chest and never let go, but I was too wary of a booby trap. There was magic nearby, I could feel it.