Page 97 of Flowerheart

She blew me a kiss farewell and joined a queue of other certified magicians dressed in elegant black gowns and suits.

Just as I rejoined the group of other initiates, a loud bell rang through the building. Single file, we students walked into the ceremonial hall. I gazed at the chessboard floor to help keep my steps measured. Every time I peeked towards the soaring arcs of the ceiling, I got dizzy again. Then, when the line had come to a stop, we turned and took our seats before a black-and-white sea of magicians and apprentices who’d come to see us.

Three magicians stood at the front of the hall atop a wooden stage, bathed in golden sunlight.

A man with long silver hair spoke, his words amplified by the same kinds of potions my teachers sometimes used to advertise their wares at loud marketplaces.

“Welcome, initiates, guests, and members of the Most Esteemed Council of Magicians. Initiates, you are about to enter a noble and ancient order. You will go into the world and act as representatives of our Council. You will heal those who come to you for help. All of you have been given a powerful gift, and with it, you will go forth and bless the citizens of the world.”

He took a step back, and a short woman in a pointed black hat stepped forwards. “As future magicians, you will not only heal people. You will uphold our law. You will convict the unjust. You will rescue those in need. You will share your knowledge and build up your siblings in magic. Together you will add to and improve our understanding of, and use of, enchantments.”

Another magician stepped forwards, reminding us of the lessons we had learned—healing broken bones, curing illnesses, creating beauty. Then they said, “Now, we invite the initiates to come forwards and receive their title from their teachers.”

They called someone’s name. A plump witch in a gorgeous, flowing white dress ascended the stage. I leaned in my chair, craning my neck to watch.

Her teacher, a short witch with curly gray hair, climbed the stairs on the other side of the stage to stand at her apprentice’s side.

The witch in the black hat approached the two. “Madam Bellamy,” she said, “do you find your student worthy of the title of witch?”

“Yes, I do.”

The lead witch turned to the student.

“Miss Day, will you uphold the laws of the Council?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Will you speak out against injustice, serve our Council,and contribute to the community?”

“Yes, I will.”

Her teacher smiled and drew closer to her student. “Then with this symbol, I declare you Madam Isabella Day.”

All of a sudden, the girl’s dress went from pearly white to a beautiful raven black, as if her teacher had poured ink all over the fabric.

The older witch beamed, turning Isabella to the crowd. “Madam Day, as a gesture of your zeal for your community, will you please show us the power of the gift you’ve been given?”

Madam Day took a deep, noisy breath, and then lifted her hands above her head. Beautiful, multicolored sparks appeared above her, twirling and fizzling and whirling to the floor. Everyone in the hall applauded; some whistled and whooped to cheer her on.

The teachers and students continued the ceremony, coming onto the stage one by one. After their clothes had been turned black, each certified apprentice proved their powers. Some leapt into the air and hovered for a few seconds. Some made moons or stars appear in the air. Some breathed fire.

Then, representing Queensborough, Robin took to the stage. Looking over their shoulder, they caught sight of me and grinned.

They looked beautiful. Like a moonbeam.

Their hair was white to match their outfit—a loose, lacyblouse under a well-fitted vest, with a knotted cravat and a billowing skirt like the wing of a moth. They took their place beside the beaming Madam Ben Ammar.

The two repeated the vows, and after Madam Ben Ammar had enchanted Robin’s gown, turning the magician’s ensemble from that of a snow-white moth to a black butterfly, she pivoted her student towards the audience.

“Fellow magicians,” said Madam Ben Ammar, “I would like to embarrass my student for a moment.”

A wave of laughter spread through the crowd. Robin turned red.

“As I continue other work for our noble Council,” said the witch, “I’ve decided to retire from my storefront. I hereby give Magistrate Robin Santos the deed to my shop. There is no one I’d rather have serving the good people of Queensborough than them.” She handed Robin a piece of paper, and as the crowd erupted in applause, Robin threw their arms around their teacher.

Madam Ben Ammar smiled proudly. “Now then, Magistrate Santos, show them your power!”

Robin turned to the crowd, bowing amidst the continuing applause. When they lifted their head, their hair was long, black, and curly. They had grown tall, and their slim figure had gained curves. Their small nose was sharp and angular; their thin lips were full and dark red.

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