Page 76 of Magic's Dawn

I expect him to make a snide remark, since everyone has been telling me I’m a witch since I returned to Hartford Cove. And Aspen has spent the last two weeks trying to beat that knowledge into my skull.

But Aspen simply says, “Welcome home, sister.”

Tears fill my eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”

“We are all bound by magic. Our coven is our family.” He walks over to crouch across from me. “Are you ready to make your first wand?”

I blink away the tears and nod. “Yes. Teach me.”

* * *

Owen’s worried gaze sweeps over the widow’s walk. “Tell me again why we can’t do this in the workshop?”

“Because being underground isn’t good for some witches.” Aspen sets the box of tools on the rough boards and settles cross-legged beside them. “Rowe, especially, seems to struggle when cut off from the elements. This also seems to be the place she is most at home with her magic, so it’s the most logical place for crafting her first wand.”

I sit across from Aspen, place my bucket between my legs, and settle my new grimoire on top. “Come on, Owen, relax. I won’t fly off the rooftop.”

He grumbles and paces a few times before he comes over to join us. “You’re small enough to fly off.”

That earns him an annoyed squint. “Any more of that, and this will be the end of any magic time happening today.”

The worried look doesn’t leave his eyes, but he presses his lips together.

Who knew the threat of withholding nooky held such power? I make a mental note to try it on Haut later.

I open my grimoire, flipping past the title page that Tris had helped me cut out and tape into my new book. Seeing it still makes me smile, despite how warped the paper is and that I can no longer read half the comments.

The next page holds the printout Tris had made from his original grimoire’s notes, as well as others I had copied from Delilah, since she obviously knows more about all this magic stuff.

Aspen frowns when he sees it. “That’s not—”

“I’m bad at note taking and learn better from hands-on work,” I interrupt, refusing to let him ruin this moment for me by listening to him harp about what my grimoire looks like. “Not everyone learns the same way, and combining what we are good at will help everyone advance.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Rowe, and if none of you truly have any interest in taking the circle tests, then I won’t say anything further.” Aspen rubs his hands on his thighs. “But if you do ever decide to take the test, that grimoire will automatically fail you.”

My head lifts, and I frown at him. “Why?”

“The first part of the exam is to surrender your grimoire.” He looks off into the distance. “If a witch can’t properly record how to replicate the spells they perform, then it puts their future success at risk. Your grimoire is your first proof that you are responsible enough to wield magic.”

“Wow, that must have really sucked during the Salem Witch Trials.” I reach for the chalkboard and piece of chalk to draw out the diagram for the spell. “Back then, having a magic book would have gotten witches burned at the stake.”

Aspen’s lips part before they close, and a puzzled look crosses his face.

“A wand would have been dangerous, too.” I focus on replicating the complex design before I look back up at him. “The Inquisition would have made having such obvious magic tools a death sentence, too.”

“Yes, a lot of magical knowledge was lost during those times, when families burned their grimoires and magic was only taught through oral tradition,” he admits.

“So, what did witches do for their circle tests back then?” I set the chalkboard aside. “Or did everyone just fail, and no covens were formed?”

“The tests changed to fit the times,” he says.

“So nothing you teach now is set in stone.” I pluck a piece of rough grit sandpaper from the box. “Just because sharing knowledge isn’t currently in fashion doesn’t mean it’s wrong. People who want to be bakers aren’t forced to create recipes from the moment they pick up a mixing bowl.”

I smooth the sandpaper over the chunk of wood we cut off the tree trunk, careful not to touch the burned side. “First time bakers are given books that were written by people who are actually knowledgeable in baking. Most don’t even learn the science behind why the recipes work. They just follow the directions.”

Aspen frowns. “Magic is more dangerous than baking.”

“And don’t you think having a beginner’s book for magic would make it less dangerous?” I work the sandpaper over a small knot in the wood, smoothing it out. “Thinking witches should create their own first grimoire sounds like a recipe for failure. And then testing them on their ability to create recipes, when they’re still learning how to use their magic, is just stupid. Your current system sucks.”

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