Spellbound Chapter 1.

Chapter One.

 

Decision Time.

 

Calizone sat by the fire in her cottage in the Dark Forest, feeling her age. She had been the Witch of the Dark Forest for a very long time, longer than any of those before her. Her diary lay open on her lap, filled with memories of her past.

She traced the edges of the yellowed pages with her fingers, each entry a fragment of her life, a record of the spells cast and wisdom gathered over the years. The forest outside whispered secrets through the wind, as if sharing her memories.

The fire crackled, punctuating her thoughts with its steady rhythm. In the quiet of the night, the witch reflected on her journey, thinking of the faces that had come and gone, the battles fought, and the peace maintained.

Every witch was supposed to keep a diary. In it, they wrote down the ingredients for any potions they made and what the potion was for. They also recorded any spells they used.

She looked across at the bookcase and smiled. Most witches managed one diary. Some of them were quite thick books, while others were just a few pages. When a witch died, her diary magically appeared on the shelf. Only another witch could read them.

There were a few gaps. This happened when either a witch did not write a diary, or the witch was still alive.

Alphaz, the first-ever witch, had laid down the rules. Her diary was not there as she was still alive. She was inside a box made of dragon skin. The box was stored safely on the Island of the Royal Dragons, protected by very powerful magic spells.

Calizone’s diary was the thickest of all of them, which made her feel very proud. She shook her head and sighed. She had not made any new potions nor cast any major spells for a very long time. “I am feeling my age,” she thought.

She had read all of the other diaries over the years, and they had taught her a very valuable lesson. Wicked witches did not live very long. Spells had a nasty habit of backfiring and destroying the person casting them. Also, people tended to get very angry with those who did nasty things. They often found a way to deal with a wicked witch.

Calizone had decided that she would rather live as long as she could, rather than guard against an angry mob, a vengeance‑seeking hero or heroine, or even a misplaced spell. She chuckled to herself. She had done some things in her youth that had given her the reputation of being someone with whom one should not trifle.

She eased herself into a more comfortable position. Even magic spells and potions could not take away the fact that she was getting very old and that her body was beginning to fail.

That was the problem. There had to be a witch of the Dark Forest. Without a witch to protect it, the forest would begin to fail, the cottage would fall into disrepair, and worst of all, there would be no one to make sure that the entrance to the other world was safe.

Near the witch’s cottage was a hedge. In that hedge was a gate. The gate led to another world. In the other world were some very, very evil beings. They had been pushed out of Calizone’s world a long time ago and would return if they could. If they managed to get back through the gate, they would destroy all life in Calizone’s world.

A set of people lived in cottages next to the hedge. Their job was to guard the gate, but they needed the witch’s magic if something went wrong.

It had been a long time since anyone had even tried to become a proper witch like Calizone. She sighed again. When she had become the witch of the Dark Forest, there had been six other women who wanted the position. Calizone had dealt with them. She had turned them all into toads and eventually taken each one’s power for herself, making her the most powerful witch of all time, except perhaps for Alphaz herself.

Calizone had been the witch for so long and had very carefully dealt with anyone who tried to become a witch like her. One of the things she had learned from the diaries was that many witches were removed by a new witch. Calizone had made it known throughout the world that she would deal very harshly with anyone who dared to challenge her.

That meant that now, there was no obvious person to take over when Calizone died. There were a fair number of women who did small magic. These women were sometimes called “hedge witches,” but they preferred to be called “charmers.”

Most towns and villages had one. They made potions for cuts and grazes. They could help broken bones set. Removing warts was one of their tasks. The spells they used were small magic that did not last long. Calizone let them get on with this as it saved her from being bothered by people seeking things like love potions and such.

Now, though, she needed someone to take over after she was gone. She concentrated hard and searched with her mind as far out into the world as she could reach. There did not seem to be anybody trying out magic.

Calizone sighed and said to her cat (the latest in a long line of black cats), “Well, Puss, it looks like I will have to go out into the world and find someone.”

The cat purred but did not answer.

Slowly and painfully, Calizone packed a bag and put it in her carriage. She hitched her horse to it. “Long gone are the days when I rode my big black horse all over the kingdom,” she said to the animal. Like the cat, it did not answer.

Carefully leaving a window open so that the cat could go in and out as it pleased, she set off.

The road through the forest was well‑kept by the King’s Foresters, so the drive was not too bumpy. After a few miles, she caught up with one of the gaily painted wagons of the travellers.

Calizone pulled up alongside it. The driver was a woman. For a minute or so, the two women stared at each other, then the woman gave a big smile.

“Calizone,” she said. “I almost did not recognise you.” She pulled on the reins of her horse and stopped the wagon. Calizone did the same.

“My eyes are not as sharp as they used to be,” she said. “You know me, but for the moment I cannot remember you.”

The woman laughed. “Well, it has been a long time, and I look a lot older than I did when we met.”

She climbed down from her seat and came to stand closer to Calizone.

Calizone stared intently at the woman. “Grace,” she said, nodding. “Grace Lee.”

“You remember me,” said Grace happily.

Calizone nodded. “Time has treated you better than it has treated me,” she said. “You don’t look that much different. And what about that husband of yours, Josiah?”

“Time has not treated him so well,” said Grace. “We stopped travelling and bought a small farm. He finds getting about difficult these days. We could do with one of your potions to ease his pain.”

“If I could make a potion that helped with the pains of old age, I would use it on myself,” said Calizone. “But why are you out and about?”

Grace smiled. “I just wanted one last look at the world before I got too old to travel. Our daughters are looking after the farm and Josiah, so I loaded up the wagon and set off. Something pulled me in this direction, and I just let the horse go where it wanted, and here I am.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, it would be a big help to me if I could travel with you,” said Calizone. “Can you still read people, like you used to do?”

“Oh yes,” said Grace. “I only need to touch someone, and I can tell all sorts of things about them, just like I used to do. Fortune telling is what people called it.”

“That is good,” said Calizone. “I might need you to do that for me.”

Grace nodded. “No problem.”

“I am looking for my successor. I think I may have been too good at stopping anyone from taking up witchcraft, so there does not appear to be a young witch waiting to take over when I die.”

Grace drew in a sharp breath.

“Not to worry,” said Calizone. “I intend to go on for a few more years yet. But I want to make sure that the next witch is not as evil as some of the ones who came before me. Their bad ways caused a lot of trouble, and it took me many years to undo some of the evil.”

“Well,” said Grace. “I can certainly tell if someone is going to be evil or not. Hitch your horse to the back of the wagon and climb aboard.”