by Melody Rose
Once they had engaged in their spellwork, I pictured blue energy of complete purity and tranquility fill my mind, heart, and soul. The cold pinpricks of anxiety that had needled my whole body disappeared, replaced with small charges of confidence and reassurance that flickered within me. As I shifted my gaze to Aurelius, I noticed that he radiated an aura of the same color of the force that had entered my system. His muscles seemed more relaxed, and he breathed more deeply. I even spotted a certain maturity in his once excitable eyes.
I rolled my shoulders and savored the feeling of calm inside me. I stroked the tops of Yavo and Irk’s heads affectionately and murmured, “I am so lucky to have the both of you, and I already feel a thousand times better. I hope I can return the favor one day.”
They were dazzled by my appreciation as though they’d never been acknowledged by anyone other than me before.
I bowed my head and expressed my gratitude yet again. “I can’t fully capture how honored I am that you’re my friends, but I am so thankful.”
With that, I turned my doorknob to become a real initiate, as Theo would say, and immerse myself in my first class. Once I had opened the door and took a few steps with Aurelius, Irk yelped after me in near panic.
“Wait, you can’t go yet!” he called after me in a high-pitched voice. “You forgot your broom!”
“Agh! Of course! I’m just worthless today!” I jumped up and slapped my palm against my forehead. I hoped that it wouldn’t disable their wonderful spell, but I couldn’t help it. While I wasn’t completely defeated by this small hiccup, I also realized that it would take quite some time until this all became natural for me.
“Don’t say that about yourself,” Irk begged as he handed me my cinnamon-scented broom, his scrawny arms shaking with the weight of the heft. I snatched it out of his hands, seriously concerned about the burden on him.
“Alright, alright. I’ll try to be kinder to myself. You do the same, buddy!” I was actually in better spirits despite that tiny setback because of the combination of my deliciously fragrant broom and the power of my friends’ protective spells. “Let’s catch up later and chat about how my day went!”
Finally, I continued down my floor’s corridor to get to my very first class. I was very relieved to notice that the chrono-sigil on my wrist was still within the yellow range. It was rimmed with orange, though, probably to say that I was cutting it pretty close.
As I walked further away from Yavo and Irk with my pup parading next to me, the troll and goblin called out, “Enjoy your first classes at Bouclier!”
I had to admit that I really liked that because it sparked a distant memory of my mother cutting off the crusts of my sandwiches, putting Post-Its on my tin lunch box, and wishing me a good day at school. I hoped that I could hold on to this happiness for just a little while longer.
With renewed self-esteem that I desperately hoped wouldn’t get steamrolled over by my peers or professor, I dashed down the flight of stairs to the entrance hall of Bouclier and opened my map. I followed the bright green footprints on the parchment and stepped through the right archway underneath the master staircase where the lower-level classes were held.
This set of directions had the same type of jokey illustration as the lion statue once I got close to my intended destination. The major difference was that a name was given this time. I guessed that this image was a caricature of the instructor that I would meet soon. According to Nathan’s map, Professor Graham was an incredibly wrinkled elderly woman with uncombed white hair and intense yellow eyes. First, she frowned meanly but then gave a sneaky smile
I didn’t really know who I was about to deal with, so I just gritted my teeth and pushed the heavy oak door open. Not wanting to be targeted by either of my peers or professor, I tried to slink in without looking too insecure. Instead of individual desks, the classroom provided three long tables with bench seats where students could all sit together. I decided on the front row to get a close look at the action, but I thought it would be a good idea to sit on the far end of the bench to minimize the possibility of getting called on.
It seemed that everyone must have gotten the message that Professor Graham was on the cranky side because no one risked being tardy. Every mage had taken a seat before they could be lectured. As I wondered if that was all that we’d have to be careful of, a frazzled yet angry-looking woman burst into the room and glared at all of us like a hungry animal.
“Another year, another wheelbarrow of rock-headed know-nothings dumped into my enchanted kitchen,” she sneered. “I have spent my entire life gathering reagents from realms far and wide only for rambunctious donkeys like you to burn them to a crisp.”
None of us dreamed of interrupting her, so we just let her continue ripping us apart with our lips glued shut. Terror was a fantastic way to get students to pay attention. When the irritable witch looked at me, Aurelius must have known that she was out for blood, because as I anxiously crossed my ankles, he lowered himself on his belly to avoid her anger. She raised an eyebrow, apparently satisfied at his submission, and returned her focus back to the rest of the classroom.
“Since I don’t want to empty out my precious pantry on any high-level recipes that you’ll all mangle to death, we’ll start out slow and simple,” she explained in a voice that sounded like she gargled broken glass in her free time. With each passing minute, she just seemed to get more annoyed.
Even though she didn’t come across as super welcoming, I wasn’t really fazed. I was curious about what spices and techniques a cooking witch had hidden up her sleeves, so I was still excited to get started. I figured that I had Aurelius’ warmth on my feet, my friends’ protection spell, and my own enthusiasm for food to thank for this.
“Today, we will be creating moon spell cookies and spirit cider to usher in the new year and to invite in mirth and guidance.” Her tone remained moody, but a twinkle showed up in her eerie eyes. “This is a Bouclier tradition based on the gâteaux et ale, cakes and ale, ritual of the founding witches and warlocks that made Lemuria habitable through both their toil and their ideals.”
My heart pounded in my chest. I could barely contain my excitement once I heard that we would start with sweets, my specialty. This really felt like I had won the luck of the draw. Plus, after my spat with Theo over dessert and rich foods, I was glad that one professor at least wouldn’t mind my knack for flavorful treats. Aurelius wagged his tail softly and was careful to hover it over the ground to avoid making a scene.
“To be successful,” she remarked as she paced in front of us with her knobbly hands held behind her back, “you must be original with your envisioning. Your cookie will be stale, bland, and unappetizing if you cannot be attuned with your authentic dreams. You must also mind your impulses and use your ingredients based on wisdom and judgment rather than blind faith.”
“Thunder!” She snapped her fingers, and a red-tailed hawk flew down with a violent swoop and an ear-piercing shriek. “Would you be so kind as to set my students up with their introductory kit of additives and bases?”
Her question sounded more like an order, but I thought it was fitting that a bird of prey would be her familiar. They both had the same intense eyes, and her hooked nose even resembled its beak.
Thunder flew straight to a shelf that was packed with identical kits shaped like small brown treasure chests with leather handles. Starting with one case at a time, the hawk bit into the handgrip with its beak and swooped to each student. Maybe part of the witch’s intention was to get us to wake up and take the class seriously because it hovered over each of us from a great height and then dropped the trunk with a clattering bang. That, or she thought it was above her to hand out materials to students, and so she left that to her familiar.
I forced myself not to bounce up out of my seat and straightened my posture as Thunder spooked me with my own crashing set of supplies. Aurelius didn’t even let out a low whine, an act of control that made me so proud that I promised myself to give h
im a treat after class. I didn’t know Professor Graham’s policy about feeding familiars, but I didn’t want to test my luck.
My heart fluttered as I flipped open the clasp of the chest and peeked at the contents. Many glass vials plugged with corks packed the box. As I picked them up to examine them, I noticed that some contained crushed herbs or flowers while others were filled with oils and even radiant light. This was certainly new to me, and I hoped that I would do justice to all the possibilities I was provided.
Tucked in the corner of the chest was a small scroll bound with a shiny red ribbon. I tenderly pinched it since it immediately inspired a sense of respect and slowly pulled it out. With gentle movements, I unraveled the cord around the scroll and reviewed its message.
Moon spell cookies: half a litron of star anise, three pincers of pixie berries, one quart of daisy flour, one litron of satyr churned butter, and one pincer of ghost glade peppercorn.
Spirit cider: two quarts of pristine water drawn from the well of wisdom, five apples from the grove of the ancients, two thinly sliced passion stars, and one stick of spiced dryad bark.
I blinked and tried to process the mysterious instructions. However, as my instructor raised her voice again to direct the class in their attempts, I thought it was best not to expose my confusion. I kept a neutral expression and nodded agreeably as the witch rattled off her expectations for us.
“Please do respect the process, mages. I know that respect is a virtue lost in the youth, but if you are clumsy as an ogre and witless as a headless cockatrice about this,” she warned, “then I will know whom exactly to denounce when Abelard considers your future at Bouclier.”
I gulped softly as her words sank in and set to work. Even with my concerns, I thought that any cooking challenge could be handled with creativity. I decided to unpack the recipe and estimate what it tried to aim for because the measurements were gibberish to me.
The only spice that immediately called out to me because it was used sparingly in my own world was star anise. I began focusing on its uses to get a better sense for the whole flavor profile of these cookies. It had a bitter quality to it and was cooked into delicacies to offset sweetness. For instance, it added a layer of depth to chai or sharpness to jams. The catch was that you have to pull out the pods painstakingly and throw out the whole star. Unless I was making a whole roast, they could be too overpowering.
This wasn’t my world, however, and now that I was starting to get a handle on this one, I realized that a lot of actions at Bouclier revolved around concentration and managing your energy well. I started to get the hunch that, just like my teamwork with Chef Douglas, I’d have to put a bit of myself into these recipes and not be stingy with my mental effort or self-expression. I couldn’t just phone it in by sticking to the principles of taste.
I began to wonder if the ingredients were chosen more for symbolism than flavor because they were just a bunch of tiny vials that couldn’t possibly make a whole batch of cookies. Maybe I’d have to use some imagination with what I was given and make sure the cookies were actually edible.
I replayed the witch’s lecture in my head to squeeze out all the information before I created my cookies. Professor Graham mentioned mirth, which I recognized from Christmas carols, but she also brought up guidance. Maybe these baked goods were singled out because it was the beginning of the year, and that her words had significance in that light. To do well as a student, I guessed it was best to enjoy the jitters of possibility and look forward to the opportunity as much I could. However, you also had to avoid mistakes that would end up in embarrassment or maybe even expulsion.
Then it hit me. That must be the point of the star anise: I’d have to be just careful enough to make good decisions, but not so anxious that I sabotaged myself.
The other ingredients, though? This was definitely going to be a brain teaser, and I seriously had to think about the basics of enchanted cooking and not lean on old habits. As I pieced together what I could, I recognized that there seemed to be a pattern with earthy flavors, like with the daisy flour and the pixie berries.
I’d never heard of grinding daisies into flour before, but I had topped salads with them on the request of a bride who really wanted to go for the enchanted forest theme. I smirked at my memory of the skinwalker. She was just a little off base with what a magical world can actually be like! Anyway, it was actually a good suggestion because the bright white flowers looked gorgeous on the greens and gave the salad a nice sour-sweet pop.
I’d also seen pixies in little gift shops in the form of figurines or on holiday cards, and they always looked cheeky, like they were up to no good. I was picking up on the message that maybe I’d need to aim for some whimsy when I considered the future instead of just focusing on my responsibilities. When I closed my eyes and ran through my mental catalog of cookie recipes, I remembered a variety with mixed berries. I liked to use the more traditional blueberries with the underrated raspberries, then throw in some lemon zest for good measure. That last flourish was pretty funny because everyone who’d eaten them thought that there was some mysterious third berry, but it was really just some creative cooking!
The last part of this recipe, however, needed more maturity and deliberation, just like Professor Graham had warned. I’d never been to any ghost glade here, but I felt a cold sensation trickle down my back when I read the name. Some grief about my mom twisted my stomach, and I thought about how proud she would be if she knew that I could make food out of thin air with enough effort. After all, she was the one who had taught my dad and me how to cook, and we tried to continue the legacy with our bakery. Even though I left my own world, I wondered if I could use that same knowledge here for greater purposes. I mean, this Abelard did say that I had those in store for me.
Just then, it all fell in place. The butter could represent the extravagance of life right now, while the peppercorn can be the bite that makes me think about the past. When I created the moon spell cookies, I would think about this epiphany. My intention for this new school year would be to try to be the best mage possible and bring my mother’s love into my enchanted crafts.
After I’d gotten over the hurdle of decoding the cookie recipe, making sense of the spirit cider was a lot easier. First, any good beverage would have to complement what it was served with, so that eliminated a lot of guesswork. Second, I had already caught onto a theme. I’d have to strike a balance by bringing together bubbly optimism and calm mindfulness, as well as dreams of the future and memories of the past.
“Now that most of you have gathered your bearings and put some thought into the matter,” Professor Graham announced, “it is now time for the incantation. Do focus on your most prudent instincts and then perform the ritual just so. J'apporte l'avenir avec la lune et l'esprit. I bring in the future with the moon and the spirit.”
Of course, it couldn’t be that easy.
“In order to assess whether you’re putting all your will into it,” the witch’s voice took on a sinister air, “I will be making my rounds and observing each of you individually.”
To be honest, though, I looked forward to the challenge. I felt that I had gotten everything I could from the recipe and was eager to see how it would play out. I felt my fondness for my mother combine with Yavo and Irk’s fortune spell. While I wasn’t exactly on top of the world, I felt that I had a great deal of good energy on my side.
Since I was on the far end of the row, Professor Graham hadn’t selected me as the first student to hover over. Instead, she stood in front of a girl with piles of blue-grey hair and furry cat ears. Her robe also had a slit to allow room for her tail to breathe, which was now straight as a ruler. The girl clawed the table nervously as she picked up her ingredients with the hand that wasn’t fidgeting. With a judgmental expression and a raised eyebrow, Professor Graham tilted her head forward slightly, and a gurgling cauldron materialized in front of the student. After she puffed her chest out and let out a sigh that almost sounded like a hi
ss, the girl uttered her incantation.
“J'apporte l'avenir... avec... la lune et l'esprit,” she uttered with little confidence. Her pauses and hesitation reminded me of how crappy public speakers would read from cue cards.
When the first incantation was complete, she picked up her vials with jittery hands, unplugged them, and dumped them into the cauldron without any grace. Due to her shivers, she even managed to empty all the contents of one flask onto her sleeve and completely soaked it. I noticed that as soon as the fillings of the vials tumbled out, they transformed into the full forms of ingredients outlined in the recipe. I was dazzled to watch a whole star anise fall like a miniature comet as glimmering bark dove into the cauldron.
The beautiful scene was short-lived, however. Within moments, the pot began to boil up to the rim until everything in it bled over with a gross sour smell. Before it could singe the tabletop, a plate shaped like a slice of a tree stump replaced the angrily spewing cauldron. It carried sickeningly burnt cookies that spit out thick smoke. A couple of seconds later, a wood goblet popped up next to disappointing creations. Professor Graham picked it up, turned it over, and a vile, gummy ball that wasn’t at all close to cider plopped onto the table’s surface.
“Well, girl, you’ll find that I have mercy in me yet,” the witch said loudly, but her claim didn’t fit with her mean glare. “I won’t subject you to the misery of ingesting your own horrid concoction.”
The student scrunched up her nose, and her talons seemed to stick out even further. She looked like she wanted to attack the bad-mouthing witch as though she were a ball of yarn. Thunder trained his eyes onto the annoyed student to tell her it’d be a deadly mistake. The girl took the hint but still poked the orb of jello in front of her as a way to handle her stress.
“You clearly allowed your nerves to best you, and if you keep going at your rate,” Professor Graham cautioned, “then you will curse all your years at Bouclier with mediocrity and defeat. Your homework is to repeat this spell every evening in your dormitory until it is worthy of eating. Since moon cookies only bring good fortune if made correctly on your first day of classes, the ritual itself is useless for you now, but perhaps repeating it until you get it correct will aid you in the future.”
