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Warning!

My dear children, in Magia there are two types of magic—Dark Magic and White Magic. I shall not preach as to which is which; it would be most insulting to your intelligence, and you would most likely put this book down out of boredom. That being said, I must point out the following about the story you are about to read. In Magia things are not always as they should be. Terrible things happen that are not of our choosing . . . things that sometimes befall us against our will, causing loss and suffering.

If you are expecting to read a story about a medieval princess, forced to marry a Dark wizard more than twice her age, or missionary knights setting off to fight and conquer a monstrous dragon guarding two stolen wands of power and glory, then you would be very much mistaken. Although these stories would be exciting to read, they must be left for another time.

It is a terrible thing to be at such a young age in ones’ life, when you find yourself utterly helpless, having your life placed in danger, and living through terrifying situations beyond anything you can possibly imagine. And it is a far worse thing to have to endure the wrath of Dark Magic entities, striving to take what doesn’t belong to them for the sole purpose of revenge, power, greed, and dare I say . . . immortality.

If you find you do not wish to read about the emotional trials and tribulations of a thirteen-year-old White Magic witch-in-training; one that is left in the care of her older sister and brother while her parents are off searching for her grandparents; one who, along with her two best friends, face numerous conjured up beasts and life threatening events managed by the Dark Magic hand of Lady Gondara, then might I suggest you properly place this book back upon the bookshelf, and leave its story for someone else.

As for those of you courageous enough to continue along with Amber and her friends on their magical journey, please keep the following in mind at all times: being born a White Magic witch or wizard is not all wishes granted, wand power, and magic spells to do our bidding as one might believe.

Chapter OnePrivy To The Family Secrets

F

or several centuries in the forgotten lands of England, a magically hidden town populated by White Magic witches and wizards battled Dark Magic. This town was called Magia and its inhabitants were known as Magians. You cannot travel to this place, seeing as its existence is not visible on any map. However, you can travel there by way of imagination.

Let me take you back twenty-five years, nearly as far back as the creation of Magia, when the Magians were up in wands and magic spells. White Magic witches, wizards, faerie folk, and dwarves rotated in shifts, protecting their homes, magical treasurers they may have possessed, and most importantly their families and family secrets. One White Magic family in particular, hid two of the most wanted secrets of the age. Their name was the Shadows family. Those practicing Dark Magic sought and terrorized the Shadows family more so than any other family in Magia.

Oliver Shadows stood six-foot-one, had blondish-gray hair, hazel eyes, and a striking, angular face. He worked at the Magia Law Offices of Magical Offenses in Downtown Magia. It was his job to represent White Magic witches and wizards who misused their magical abilities for crime.

His wife Anna Shadows was the love of his life. She had elfish ears, emerald eyes, and long, dark red hair surrounding her egg-shaped face. During the first year of their marriage, she was a well-known author who took on the position of assistant editor-in-chief at the Magia Chronicle. It was her job to proofread submitted articles, and approve the final typeset layout for the paper before sending it to the printer. Although she was twenty-three years younger than her husband, one would never know the age difference by the way they harmoniously got along. And when she looked at him, you could see the passionate adoration she felt for the man she was in love with. Their love affair was one most could only dream of.

For the last eighteen years, the Shadows hid two secrets in their attic, secrets they hoped their three children would never need to find. And it was these two secrets that led to another secret hidden within the eldest rings of wood, just beyond their back yard. Neither they nor their children were privy to this mysterious secret. However, it was these three secrets that were interlaced by the same quill, and would unfold a whole series of dangerous events.

The Shadows lived on a hidden hill within walking distance from town in a hundred-year-old house. The gray shingles on the roof were still in unbelievably good condition, yet the white siding was peeling, in dire need of a paint job. Torn and worn screens on the windows needed replacing (seeing as they were as old as the house), most of the windows were yellowing, and yet each was still in usable condition, all except for the bedroom window of the youngest Shadows sibling, Amber. If you looked at her bedroom window, you could see in the bottom right-hand corner a mouse-sized hole stuffed with a towel to block out the cold weather. This made the cold somewhat difficult to keep out in winter and the unbearable heat difficult to keep out in summer months. Whenever the Shadows children complained it was too hot to sleep, Mr. and Mrs. Shadows told their children they could only afford to run one air conditioning unit from the living room, and nothing more could be done or said about it. However, this past summer Mr. and Mrs. Shadows weren’t home to remind them of this fact. In fact, they hadn’t been home since Halloween of the previous year.

It was the twenty-sixth of October when Mr. and Mrs. Shadows decided to search for Anna Shadow’s parents, the Chessmans. On the day they left their three children, Oliver and Anna Shadows instructed their children to never go off searching for them, as it was too dangerous to do so. They were to attend school as if all were normal at home, and to stay together no matter the amount of time it took for their parents to return home.

At the time, the Shadows hadn’t expected to be away from their children longer than a week. However, hours turned into days, days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months as the three Shadows children went about their business, acting as though nothing were wrong.

As each day passed, it was getting more and more difficult to pretend all was normal. In fact, it was anything but normal. Each felt abandoned in his or her own way; internally dealing with the anxiety of having parents away for so long, and the possibility that they may even be dead. Yet, the children did as they were told and each privately prayed their parents would soon be home, safe and sound, along with their grandparents.

Crystal Shadows was the eldest child at age eighteen. She kept her dark red hair short and sassy, and had flashy emerald eyes. Most everyone who befriended her labeled her a control freak. However, if you asked her how she portrayed herself, Crystal would simply say she saw herself as being responsible. And she most certainly was.

Mr. and Mrs. Shadows put Crystal in charge of her younger siblings and the household until such time as their return. In addition to her responsibilities, she was a full-time senior student at Candlebury High during the weekdays, and a full-time student in her sixth and final year at Magia Sessions for White Magic Witches and Wizards. Seeing as Magia Sessions were only on the weekends (Friday nights and Saturdays), students were in session year-round. It was this hectic schedule that preoccupied Crystal’s time and thoughts, and long days became a little more bearable when she found herself overwhelmed and missing her family.

Willow Shadows was the second eldest at age sixteen. He wore his blondish hair in an Einstein fashion and had the same flashy emerald eyes as his sisters. If you asked him why he was so antisocial, it would go in one ear and out the other. Now, if you were discussing potions and alchemist theories with him, you would have his undivided attention. However, you would stand the risk of not getting a word-in-edgewise. For you see, potions and alchemist theories were his passion ever since he was thirteen years old. These days, it was common to see him with his nose buried in books, notes, and experiments more than usual. He, too, attended Candlebury High, where he was a junior, and Magia Sessions, in which he was in his fifth year.

The youngest Shadows member was thirteen-year-old Amber. She had the same flashy emerald eyes as her sister and brother, and long, dark red hair as nearly all the Shadows women throughout the centuries before her. She was uniquely talented in White Magic spells and very singular when it came to her intellectual knowledge of the magical world. She could figure out how to reverse spells quicker than her sister and brother, who had been attending Magia Sessions since the age of thirteen. This, among her other unexplainable talents, sometimes provoked jealousy from her brother and sister. And it was this jealousy that sometimes brought on petty squabbles, ending in all three snubbing each other for hours at a time.

In Amber’s mind, she thought she was quite brilliant and clever as far as White Magic witches go, thank you very much! She had no clue as to anything extraordinarily brilliant blossoming within her persona as she grew older. Yet, her parents, and all the head faeries living in the faerie realms of the Bewitched Forest, were privy to just how extraordinarily brilliant she was about to become in her White Magic abilities, ever since the day she was born. Unfortunately for Amber, the Dark Sorceress was aware of her uniqueness too. And it was only a matter of time before Amber found out for herself, and would be forced to call upon her unknown endowment.

These days, everyone appeared to be consumed in befuddlement and debatable conversation as to the mystery of the survival of the Dark Sorceress. Even more obvious than usual was the mystery of her hatred for the Shadows family. Amber, too, was caught up in the curious dilemma. Every time she visited the library, she read about events that took place over the centuries several times, trying to figure out what everyone else couldn’t: the reasons the Dark Sorceress continually fought and tortured the Shadows women—the spells she used to survive, and theories of magical spells experts believed she may have used to cheat death, time and time again. However, reading biography books only made Gondara’s survival arouse Amber’s curiosity more than ever. The one thing she managed to memorize without effort (seeing as envisioning it stained her memory) was Lady Gondara’s appearance. The Dark Sorceress had gaunt reptilian skin from several regenerations. Her face now appeared to resemble a serpent, her eyes were outlined in black and purple hues, and dark green and purple attire draped over her deformed body. Her hair was wild and blackish-gray, and her fingertips were sharp; resembling narrow daggers. And no matter how many times Amber tried to forget the horrible image of Lady Gondara, she simply couldn’t. Thinking back, Amber remembered a dozen times over the past year she found herself eavesdropping on her sister and brother when they were discussing the Dark Sorceress. Yet, she was under the impression (by the bits and pieces she could hear) that they were talking of Lady Gondara’s legend, not her existence. But perhaps the one thing Amber couldn’t stop contemplating the most, was the possibility of Lady Gondara having something to do with her parents and grandparents’ disappearances. In fact, it made perfect sense to Amber, but how could she prove it? And if she could, how in the world could she save them before it was too late? Then an even worse thought occurred to her: What if she was too late? On the stormy Thursday afternoon our story begins, Amber Shadows traipsed up the winding road, leavened with flyaway crimson and auburn leaves. She hurriedly unlocked number 416 and dashed into its dark entry, escaping the possibility of being struck by lightning. She flicked the light switch on only to find the electricity had gone out, as it always did in terrible storms. She laid her things down on the floor and pulled out a box of matches from the hallway table drawer. As Amber lit the candle centerpiece just under the mirror above the hall table, she replayed everything in her head that went wrong that day. She had missed her ride home, came home from the Great Hall of Magian White Magic Records empty-handed, and now, here she was standing in the middle of a candlelit living room drenched to the bone. She yanked off her muddy gym shoes, and carrying the candle with her, slipped off her drenched pants in the laundry room. All the while she complained to herself (seeing as no one was home yet) about the number of passing cars that splashed her. Grabbing a bath towel from the linen closet, she wrapped it around her body, and headed back to the living room. As Amber entered the room, odd noises occurred in various places throughout the house. Cautiously looking about the room, she picked up and examined her school things miserably. “Crystal? Willow? Anyone home?” she called out into the surrounding darkness. No one answered. Amber lit the pillar candle center on the coffee table and looked around the room, calling out again in a braver-than-she-felt voice. “Hello? Anyone home?” Again, no one answered. All the rooms except the living room remained utterly dark. She continued gathering her wet books and notes, still uncertain if she was alone in the house. Perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her. Yes, of course, that had to be it. The imagination can create something out of nothing, especially when you find yourself alone in a dark house, during a storm, thought Amber. What else could it be? Of course she wasn’t truly alone; Zappy the family cat was somewhere in the house. Perhaps he was the one making the odd noises. Possibly he was chasing a mouse; then again, what if it wasn’t Zappy? Amber shook her head and muttered, “Stop it! You’re acting like a five-year-old afraid of the dark!” She inhaled and exhaled deeply, turned on her heel, and headed to the fireplace hearth. A trail of water plopped on the wood floor in a zigzag pattern behind her, enticing Zappy, who was hidden under the coffee table. He followed behind, playfully pawing at the plops before they hit the floor. Then his paw accidentally brushed the back of Amber’s heels, startling her. A few papers floated to the floor as Amber stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes widened in fear over what had brushed her heels. Jerking around quickly, she stepped on Zappy’s front paws, not expecting the feline to be there. He let out a nasty meow and flattened his ears as a few drops of water plopped directly on his head. Instantaneously, the long-haired black and white feline leapt onto the couch, and settled with his back turned to Amber. He began an hour-long licking ritual, starting with his forehead. Amber picked up her things with a sigh of relief—it was only the cat. She watched the feline in the candlelight for a short spell and called to him, wanting to explain her stepping on his paws was an accident. “Zappy . . . here kitty, kitty. . . .” He refused to acknowledge her and continued his feline ritual. “I didn’t mean to step on your paws . . . I didn’t see you.” Zappy stopped licking his leg for a second as though he had heard something; then repositioned himself to continue his bathing ritual. “Oh, never mind! I’ve a more important problem to attend to. These things are never going to dry. I might as well have thrown them in the river, for as long as it’s going to take to dry them.” With no electricity, Amber thought it best to lay out her books and notes on the hearth and floor, letting everything dry at the same time. She gathered wood, paper, and kindling, opened the glass doors, and struck a match. In matter of minutes the room became toasty warm. The old fireplace always did put out a good amount of inviting heat . . . thought Amber as she shook and wiped the excess rain from each book and numerous papers. She laid them every place possible near the hearth, hoping her idea would work quickly enough so she could gather her things neatly that same night, before heading off to bed. By the time Amber was finished laying everything out to dry, it looked as though she’d wallpapered half the living room. Satisfied that the fireplace would dry her things in no time, Amber picked up the candle and headed to her room, mindful of her steps. Clothes flew through the air as she rummaged through her dresser for a pair of sweats. She dried her hair and focused her thoughts on her thin reflection in the mirror, debating on whether or not she should have her hair cut short like her sister. The only problem she could foresee was that everyone would make comments on how much she resembled her sister. This in itself convinced Amber it would be a major mistake. She was quite content being her own unique person. And the idea of resembling her sister anymore than she already did made her toss the haircut idea straight out the window. She got dressed without giving it a second thought, tossed the damp towel into the hamper, and gathered her hair into a ponytail. After a long stretch, she settled her hands on her hips and decided she needed something . . . something to help her forget the dreadful day. Now that she was feeling a bit more comfortable, she made her way by candlelight into the kitchen to make a glass of chocolate milk. On the dining room table, a plate of ghost-shaped brownies and Halloween biscuits shaped like cauldrons and broomsticks lay for want. Several bites later, Amber’s frustration was down to a fraction of what it was when she first walked through the door, but two problems remained unsolved. The first one being that she hadn’t a clue as to where her backpack was, and the second, she hadn’t been able to begin her assignment for Magia Sessions. Flickering shadows from the fireplace danced on the beaded-board dining room walls as Amber sat in serious befuddlement as to where her backpack was last seen. She had to find it, her Magia assignment guidelines were in there. After a quick search, she found it tossed in the corner of the dining room, behind a chair under the cauldron wall clock. No wonder I couldn’t find it this morning, thought Amber. Looking at it was only a painstaking reminder of how she waited until now, two nights before her essay was due, to do her Magia assignment. And not having her assignment turned in on time would certainly get her into loads of trouble. This being Amber’s first year attending Magia Sessions for White Magic Witches and Wizards, she wanted to maintain a perfect grade, and at the moment, it appeared she was about to spoil her perfect grade by failing to complete her assignment with days to spare. Amber found it rather difficult juggling two different schools, yet she maintained a B average in seventh grade at Candlebury junior high, and an A average in Magia Sessions. This was amazing in itself based on the number of times she found herself daydreaming of going off on quests to find her family. It didn’t matter whether she was in school or doing homework, it always managed to happen at the most inconvenient of times. One minute she would be concentrating on her work, the next, it would be time to go home, or the grandfather clock would be bonging midnight. She would then have to race through her homework and hope she’d pass the test given the next day. Then there were the daydreams of her coming home one day to find her parents safe and sound. These daydreams filled her muse more often than naught these days. She simply couldn’t help it; she missed her parents. Unfortunately, for Amber this daydream had been nothing more than just that—a daydream. Every day she got up early and stared out the living room window before school, praying for her family’s return. And every night, when it was quite clear they were not coming home, Amber buried her intellect in homework. The silence of the house was almost deafening. The only sound Amber could hear was the crackling of the fireplace, and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. At first, she sat calmly. Then, as the minutes passed she grew annoyed at the clock’s echo. She began tapping her fingers on the table in subconscious synchronicity with its ticking, wishing the clock had no sound at all. As Amber sat thinking of how her efforts to find information for her assignment ended vainly, the ticking of the clock gradually faded and she was lost in the fact that she had just wasted two hours researching her family history. Most descriptions were too vague or had nothing written beneath their pictures. And other relatives she’d known since she was born weren’t even mentioned. There had to be some documented information on someone, somewhere, but where? And what if there wasn’t any information to use? Would Professor Whittlesworth excuse her from the assignment or give her detention? Amber tossed the last bit of biscuit and grabbed her backpack. Fumbling around for some writing materials, she pulled out three leafs, an almost empty bottle of ink, and a black feather quill. Creative thoughts spun around in her intellect as she attempted to pen details of a relative who lived ages ago. “Let’s see now . . . it should be a woman . . . no, a man . . . no, definitely a woman . . . and she has to have extraordinary powers in healing.” Her concentration abruptly broke from crumbs smashing beneath the parchment as she pressed the quill to write. Amber looked at the parchment leaf stained with baking grease and rolled her eyes. “Oh well, guess I can rewrite this once I’m finished.” She quickly lifted the leaf, shaking her head in a bothered state as she dusted the crumbs from the table onto the floor. Just as Amber was about to continue penning her muse, a place she hadn’t thought of came to mind. “Of course, why didn’t I think of it before?” she muttered, turning around and staring into the dark hallway behind her. “Mom and Dad’s room!” That’s where she’d find the information needed; she was certain of it. The only problem was she had been warned to never go into her parents’ room without permission. And Crystal wasn’t home to ask. Just then, Zappy rubbed against Amber’s leg, purring romantically. He seemed to have gotten over Ambers’ drowning him with drops of water earlier. One thing she loved about this feline was the fact that he always purred to distract her when she came home from school in a disgruntled manner. No matter how awful the day may have been, this display of affection soothed her nerves, and always made her feel better. Amber bent down to pet his arched back just as the grandfather clock bonged 5:30, drawing her attention to the fact that her sister and brother were not home as of yet. She’d never known them to be home later than 4:30 on school nights. Then again, midterm finals were coming up in Magia classes, and it was a safe assumption that they stopped off to study at a friends’ house, or went to the school library to do research. Yes, one of these reasons had to be it. Even though Amber appeased herself with these conclusions in mind, it was times like these she wished her family had a telephone to call her friends. With no one home, the house felt cold and empty. No matter, thought Amber, I’ve more important issues to deal with, like getting this assignment written before Saturday afternoon. Pushing her worries to the back of her mind, she shifted her thoughts back to the problem at hand. “Maybe Mom has books of family history tucked away in her bedroom closet,” Amber said to Zappy, who had just lain across her feet, playfully attacking her toes. “She’d never know I looked in them, so it should be all right. What say you, Zappy . . . should I have a look?” Amber stopped scratching Zappy and stood with candle in hand. She was about to head toward her parent’s room, when at that precise moment, Zappy did something extraordinary. For you see, Zappy was not a normal house feline. He was ancient in years, had a glistening wizard birthmark on his chest, and was magically endowed. Vaporizing into wizard form, he bowed and said respectfully, “If there’s anything I can do to help Mistress—” “Thank you, Zapphorya,” she said appreciatively. Amber always addressed him by his full given name whenever he appeared in wizard form, “but I’ll have to sneak a peek into Mom’s room for family history if I’m to finish this report for Whittlesworth. Otherwise, I’ll be history in his class. Crystal or Willow must never know either, so please don’t breathe a word of this to them, okay?” Zapphorya nodded. “Speaking of which, don’t you think it a bit strange they’re not home yet?” “Yes, it does seem a bit unusual for them,” he replied. “Perhaps they stopped off at a friends’ house to study?” “That’s what I was wondering,” Amber said absentmindedly, “but why wouldn’t they send me a message of some sort telling me what time to expect them home? They’re both well aware of the fact that loads of rumors have been floating around school about Lady Gondara lurking about. Not that it makes me worry . . . but it does, make me worry. And their being home would have been a bit helpful . . . they’d know where I should look for the information needed for this assignment. They’ve already done this assignment.” “I am quite certain they are fine, Mistress. Pertaining to your dilemma, what is your assignment about?” “I have to write about someone in our family who led an extraordinary life as a White Magic witch or wizard. So far, I’ve come up with nothing. There was no info on the relatives I thought would be perfect to write about. At least not at the Great Hall of Magian White Magic Records, for that matter, not that there were many, but I needed at least one.” Zapphorya cleared his throat and eyed his cat claws. Even though he was in wizard form, there were still two characteristics that remained feline: His cat eyes were one, and the other, his fingers ended in cat claws. “I happen to know of a place where two secrets are hidden, secrets you may find indubitably helpful in writing your assignment, Mistress.” “Secrets, huh . . .” Amber furrowed her brow in curiosity. “What secrets?” “I am sworn to uphold their secrecy,” Zapphorya said curtly. Shifting his catlike eyes from side to side, he gestured for Amber to come closer. “If they ever found out I broke my promise and revealed the secrets entrusted to me . . . they’d magically take my nine lives away and strip me of my wizard powers!” “Zapphorya . . . spill it,” Amber said, folding her arms. “You know you’re bursting to tell someone, so it might as well be me.” Zapphorya shook his head as though he shouldn’t have opened his mouth. “The consequences would be too severe, Mistress.” “I promise not to tell anyone these secrets you speak of. So c’mon and tip the catnip out of the bag. What secrets?”

Chapter TwoThe attic

P

erhaps I can give you a clue as to where to look for these secrets,” he said anxiously fidgeting, as he tried compromising his way out of the situation he had uncomfortably put himself in. “Oh, do tell,” Amber said, sitting down excitedly. Zapphorya cautiously looked over his shoulder, making certain Crystal and Willow were not home standing behind him before continuing. “My dear Mistress, it is always best to search in those places one would not ordinarily search—places normally left unattended for dust and the like. And it most certainly isn’t in any place you’d think would have easy access.” He bowed and vaporized back into the cat form, leaving Amber befuddled for a short spell. “‘Places normally left unattended for dust and the like’?” she repeated in serious contemplation. “It’s not in any place I’d think would have easy access?” The clock ticked the minutes away as Amber deciphered possible places Zapphorya may have been referring to. Then it suddenly dawned on her.

“Oh no—not the—you mean the—” Amber gasped, staring at the dark hallway ceiling.

Zappy nodded astutely and strode off with his tail flippant and protruding high in the air.

“The attic?” she said, taken aback. For a short spell, Amber found herself slowly heading toward the attic with candle in hand. Of course the attic would have the very information she needed. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? As she reached for the chain to the attic stairs, it suddenly struck Amber that she had an enormous fear of the attic, and with good reason. “Oh, no . . . the attic . . .” Amber gulped hard as her enthusiasm fell to less than nil. She wanted nothing to do with the attic, and with good reason. Her brother and sister used to tell her dark, magical monsters and dark, magical ghouls were living in the dark shadows up there; waiting and lurking about to grab their next victim. Siblings can be so cruel sometimes, thought Amber. Possibly they thought it was a wicked joke that gave them hours of laughter, watching her avoid the attic ceiling stairs at all costs. Then again, perhaps what they told her was really true. After all, this was Magia, and it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for such things to exist. Amber stared at the dark ceiling, reasoning with her intellect that she wasn’t five years old anymore, and to believe in dark, magical ghouls and dark, magical monsters would be utter nonsense. And had there been any dark, magical monsters or dark, magical ghouls living in the attic, they would’ve gobbled up her and her entire family several years ago. Yes, this rationalization made Amber feel much more at ease, and made loads of sense. “Well . . . guess there’s no time like the present to find out,” she said, grabbing at the chain again. Just as Amber had a firm grip on the chain, another chilling thought occurred to her. Her fingers slowly slipped down the chains’ smoothness. Not only was it dark in the attic, but nasty storms always sounded louder and more severe up there. The clap of unexpected thunder always startled her, no matter where she was in the house, and at that moment, the storm was announcing its fury quite well—rumbling and booming as flashing, jagged strips of lightning stabbed the ground. “I-I can’t go up there,” Amber said to Zappy, who was purring loudly as she scratched his ears. “I know that’s where I should look, but it’s dark and creepy with spiders. Then again, I haven’t a choice left, do I?” She glanced at the grandfather clock. It shouldn’t take too much time to look in the attic, but first, she’d have to get over her fear, seeing as her assignment was due Saturday afternoon—no exceptions. Most importantly, she’d have to hurry. In a half an hours’ time it would be six o’clock, and there wasn’t much time if any before her sister and brother got home, if indeed they were still coming home. Amber inhaled and exhaled a few deep breaths. Finally, summoning up enough nerve she turned on her heel and grabbed at the chain. She was going up into that attic, do or die. Struggling with great difficulty, she pulled hard on the chain. The attic stairs appeared to be stuck. And no wonder, thought Amber, no one had been up into the attic for quite some time. The stairs must have become stubbornly stuck from the house settling. It wasn’t until the fourth pull that she lost her footing and fell down on her bottom. Instantly, she rolled out of the way. The dusty stairs nearly hit her as they extended outward and landed hard with a loud thud on the floor. Second thoughts ran through Amber’s head as she lay sprawled out on the floor, frozen in the position she had landed. What was she being so frightened of? She’d lived in this house since she was born. It was now a question of what was more frightening: being up in a dusty, dark attic during the storm, or facing Whittlesworth (her Magia Sessions professor) with an incomplete assignment. It took some doing, but Amber won the fight with her intellect to follow through. The fear she had of the attic was still there; however, it was her thoughts of how Professor Brynmor Whittlesworth would react to her turning in an incomplete assignment that made her get to her feet. She picked up the candle and headed up the stairs. Professor Whittlesworth was a tall man with long grayish-black hair, a long mustache, and a beard to match. Amber and most of her female classmates thought him quite handsome in a frightening sort of way, and he was one of Amber’s favorite teachers; however, he showed no compassion or leniency toward students turning in incomplete assignments, and Amber knew this only too well from witnessing other students turn in their incomplete assignments. Amber slowly pushed the wooden door completely down, letting it fall hard against the dusty floor in a loud bang. The disturbed dust shot up into her face and hair. She coughed for quite a spell as dust settled everywhere on un-animated objects at her feet. Stepping up into the attic, she fanned the remaining free-falling dust away from her face, and held the candle higher to see about the attic. The room appeared dark except for the dim light of the candle in her hand, and when lightning flashed outside, the attic appeared eerie and gray. In fact, now that she thought more of it, the whole house looked just as creepy as the attic. Someone important had to be listed on at least one of the boxes up there. Amber strained her eyes, trying to read by candlelight each yellowing, faded label on the boxes within her reach. As she made her way through the attic to the opposite side, almost everything was covered by sheets. Surrounding these mounds of white were thick, dusty, tattered books stacked five feet high and broken antique furniture. Unexpectedly, thunder banged the sky, startling Amber. She was about to head back down the stairs when she saw lightning stabbing the ground outside through the octagon-shuttered window. The storm sounds much louder up here in the attic, she thought. Glancing upward, Amber raised the candle high to see the condition of the old roof rafters. They were riddled with cobwebs and nails sticking out in several places. She had no knowledge of roof construction, yet it did appear to be withstanding the storm, so she took a deep breath and continued her search. As Amber moved about hoping the roof was strong enough to remain intact, the storm began picking up rather nastily against the shingles, and the wind howled throughout the cracks of the roof. For a fleeting moment, her stomach did back flips and she thought about forgetting the whole idea. Forgetting the whole idea wasn’t an option, however, seeing as there were no more days to complete her assignment. Friday was regular school during the day, and Friday night was Magia Sessions. With a heavy sigh, she stepped further into the middle of the attic and went back to searching for information. Amber clambered over memorabilia, clutter, and boxes. She tossed odds and ends out of her path and stumbled upon several hardback diaries, none of which appeared to have anything written in them. She opened various-sized boxes full of black-and-white photos, quickly glanced at them, then tossed them out of her way. Next, she unlocked three outdated suitcases labeled with different countries, only to find they were empty with ripped linings. She pushed milk crates overstuffed with outdated clothes and unused sewing material out of the way, seeing as she held no interest in finding clothing. She then made her way through the muddle of rummage to a two-drawer file cabinet. Unfortunately, upon opening its contents, she found it was filled with nothing more than financial papers. Amber slammed the drawers shut. Next, her attention was drawn to two boxes stacked next to the file cabinet. Anxiously she tore off the tape, hoping she was about to find what she had been looking for. She kept an optimistic attitude as she opened the box tops. Pulling out crumpled up newspaper, she tossed it over her shoulder until she felt something hard. To her great disappointment, both of the boxes were filled with velvet boxes of old china and tarnished silverware. Straightening up, she shook her head in disappointment. Zapphorya must have been mistaken. There was nothing useful in that old attic. Then, just as she turned to leave, she stubbed her foot on a big object covered by a white-sheet- turned-yellow. “Ow! That Smarts!” she cried, dropping the candle and grabbing hold of her sore toe. As if stubbing her toe wasn’t enough, hot melted wax splattered all over her legs and made her wince even more. “Ouch! That’s hot!” After a short spell of taking deep breaths to lessen the painful impact to her toe and the burns on her legs, Amber pulled out a matchbook and re-lit the candle. She set it on an old wooden foot stool and tore off the sheet, saying, “This had better be worth stubbing my toe over.” To her surprise, the object was an antique trunk. Could this old trunk have something in it? Curiosity nudged Amber to open it. She tried turning the key left in the lock, but it wouldn’t budge. Bits of rust flaked off from the lock and stuck to her fingers. Amber moved things around, searching for something to open the trunk. There had to be something she could use to pry it open, but what . . . old picture frames? Don’t think so, too easy to break, definitely not strong enough . . . dried up calligraphy pens? No . . . the tips would break off. What could she use? Just when it seemed quite obvious she’d have to go out to the shed for some tools to pry open the trunk, her gaze fell upon a protruding, square shape hanging on the wall above the trunk. A yellow sheet, held up by two nails, was hiding its existence. Could it contain something useful? She yanked off the sheet to discover it was a cupboard. Inside this cupboard hung a set of rusty iron and wood tools, some broken, some disfigured. Amber picked out and examined an old hammer and a wood-handled chisel. These tools just might work, she thought, wouldn’t hurt to try, anyway. She wedged the chisel in between the lock and the trunk and began hitting the end of the chisel. “My parents should have thrown this junk out long ago,” Amber muttered, not realizing the true value of such treasured antiques. The wood chisel split in two and fell to the floor, along with the key and lock. Amber hurriedly threw down the hammer and strained to open the heavy lid. Its hinges creaked so loudly, Amber shuddered and winced at its unbearable noise. It sounded as though someone were scratching a blackboard with fingernails. After Amber managed to get the lid open fully, she hurried over to the shuttered vent window to see if anyone had pulled into the driveway. She grew nervous that her brother and sister might come home and question her about why she was in the antique trunk. She pushed and pushed, but the vents wouldn’t push out for her to see properly. Should she continue searching through the trunk? Was it really worth the risk of getting caught? Certain or not, Amber made up her mind to search the trunk. If by chance her sister and brother came home, she’d just have to make up an excuse to explain herself. She was certain she was very close to finding what she needed for her assignment, and it would be stupid not to finish looking. To put her mind at ease, Amber tiptoed across the attic floor, knelt down, and leaned over the attic opening to listen for any bustling noises from downstairs. She cautiously stuck her head down through the opening and perused the dark hallway. The house appeared empty. “Whew!” She sighed in relief. “No one’s home yet—need to hurry!” Amber wasted no time in getting back to the trunk and began pulling out all sorts of things. The first thing she pulled out was an old wedding dress of brown, velvet lace and pearls folded over several spell books. This in itself amazed her. She’d never seen anything so delicate and old fashioned in all her life. Next she pulled out several spell books and two books aged and leather bound. She slowly thumbed through the parchment leaves, squinting to read the half-written dates jotted at the top of several entries. Could be something, thought Amber, but what was with the half-written dates? And who was this sorcerer named Lord Malazar? Amber browsed through each journal once more, eagerly reading a few lines here and there. It wasn’t until she actually read a few of the tragic events completely through, that she realized what she was holding within her grasp. She flipped to the back of the journal to see a woman’s name written in black calligraphy—a familiar name she’d heard her mother mention many times throughout her life. What she held in front of her were two forbidden journals—journals Zapphorya was referring to as “two hidden secrets.” Amber’s thoughts flooded with excitement. All traces of worry vanished from her face as an open-mouthed smile pushed her cheeks back. “Cobwebs and spider legs!” she said excitedly. “I can’t believe I’m holding Jocelyn Shadows’ memoirs! These books are exactly what I’ve been looking for! This is ever so cool!” Amber embraced the journals, and with a gesture of excitement, shouted louder than she meant to. “Yes!”

Chapter ThreeThe Journals

A

mber smiled, thinking anxious thoughts of how long it would take her to read the entries, and use the information she absorbed into writing her essay. Her confidence rose to excessive heights as she opened the first journal and began reading the first dated entry: 29, October I had been sleeping contently until an hour before midnight, when my slumber was disturbed by wizards and witches shrieking and running down the cobblestone streets of our hidden town, Magia. The sound of chains rattled as the drawbridge closed, and through the windows I could see the Magian sky, blacker than usual. I lay back in bed thinking nothing more of it and closed my eyes. Just as I lay falling into a sound sleep, shrills so terrifying curdled the wind and startled me out of my drowsiness. Pulling the covers up over my head, I lay uncertain of what to do. Screams of those left behind tormented the whistling winds; horrifying death lay writhed through the streets like bloody aftermath. Souls were sacrificed by his Dark Magic hand. My family’s hundred-year-old castle, built oddly enough deep in the valley below the enchanted mountains, was surrounded by evil, and I dared not move a muscle for fear of my life. “An evil sorcerer named Lord Malazar—’e’s going teh kill the Shadows family! The castle is doomed!” an old witch shrieked from the streets below. I dashed to the opposite window at hearing these words. All who passed by and saw what was left of his horrific appearance, cringed under their cloaks and tore away as though their lives depended on it. Then my gaze fell upon him. He staggered down the winding road leading to my family’s keep. There was no mistaking his identity . . . I was most certain it was Lord Malazar. I had only overheard stories of his terrifying reign over Magia by eavesdropping on conversations among the servants in the castle. I believed him to be nothing more than a myth; that is to say, until that horrific night he appeared in my family’s castle. He must have been searching for something, something that only my family had, of which I was not allowed to see, touch, or talk about. I wasn’t certain of what he was searching for. The only thing that came to mind was the narrow locked cabinet in our dungeon. My father forbade me to even look upon its doors until I turned eighteen. I could only imagine the contents within to be very powerful in magic. But I was forbidden to inquire about it; the less I knew, the safer I was. My curiosity took hold of me. I had to see for myself if the panic outside my family’s castle was true. Opening my bedroom door, I tiptoed down the antechamber and quietly lurked barefoot in the shadows, looking for Lord Malazar. I didn’t have far to roam when I caught a glimpse of his billowing black robes trailing after him. He stopped and turned his head with a jerk, glancing to see if anyone had followed him. Backing away, I hid within the shadows. When he seemed certain that no one had followed him, he headed toward one of my family’s guest bedroom chambers. I cringed at the sight of him. My skin crawled, and my stomach felt queasy. He was tall, old, weak, and living on borrowed time by the look of him. Words failed me upon seeing his monstrous face and hands, having no skin to hide his bones and blood. My curiosity grew extensively as I watched at a distance, following his every move. He unlocked every door with spells, searched every room, and left in a fury when he found nothing to his satisfaction. It wasn’t long before he came upon the chamber of two of my eldest family members. I wanted to scream to warn them, but my throat tightened as if the sound of my screeching had been plugged from an invisible hand, throttling me in strangulation. Restricted in what I could see, I moved closer and stood frozen in place as Lord Malazar magically opened my grandparents’ door. Suddenly my grandmother screamed. “Ethanial! Ethanial! Wake up! Wake up!” she grabbed at the blankets, pulling them up to her neck. Grandfather Ethanial sat up in a jolt, his eyes squinting and straining to make out the horrendous figure standing before him at the foot of the bed. My grandfather clutched his chest, pleading for their lives, “No— No! P— Please do not harm my wife! I-I’ll do anything you want, just please, please don’t harm us!!” “You are not worth my time,” Lord Malazar said gravely, his eyes seething with a madman’s greed. “I want what I came for, and you will help me get it. Where is it, old man? Tell me, or you shall watch your old hag of a wife die!” Grandfather Ethanial got to his feet and grabbed at his robe with stricken fear. He nearly stumbled, trying to avoid contact with Lord Malazar. With raised arms over his head, he passed Malazar in a hurry and dashed out the bedroom door. “I-I n-need to wake up my son,” stuttered my grandfather, swiftly heading toward my parent’s bedroom just down the antechamber. “H-He has it h-hidden . . . p-please, sir . . . f- follow me.” He knocked frantically. “Joseph! Eloise! Please let me in . . . it’s terribly important. Please!” “Father, why in heaven’s name, are you waking us up at this late hour?” My father unlatched the door and opened it full sweep. His eyes met Lord Malazar’s and his mouth fell open. I’d never seen my father’s eyes filled with such fear as I did that night. And I certainly will never forget it. Lord Malazar wasted no time in thrusting a spell on him, causing him to holler in pain. Feeling completely helpless, I watched my father be lifted and thrown against the opposite antechamber wall. “Where is it, Shadows?” Lord Malazar demanded angrily, staring at my injured father with seething greediness. “I know you have what is rightfully mine.” By the tone of his voice, it was apparent his patience had worn thin, and my father hadn’t a chance of survival, no matter what his answer. I wanted to defend my parents and grandparents, yet my legs wouldn’t move. Just the sight of the evil sorcerer petrified my thirteen-year-old brain and churned my stomach. My body felt glued to the wall I hid behind. Nervousness writhed through my insides intensely. Feeling faint, I tried to keep my wits about me, taking deep breaths every so often to remain alert as I witnessed what was happening to my family. My mother appeared in the doorway. “What in all the heavens is going on out here?” she shrieked. “Joseph! What have you done to my husband?” She quickly knelt down beside my father. “You’ve killed him, you beast! You’re a sorry excuse for a sorcerer!” She hovered over my father, cradling him in her arms, sobbing. “Hold your tongue, woman!” said Malazar, his face red and disgruntled. “He’s not dead yet . . . however, soon he shall be nothing more than a grain of dust when I’ve finished with him. Now, I want what I came for. Where is it? Or would you care to join in your husband’s anguish?” Lord Malazar stepped closer to her, grabbed her by the throat, and lifted her off her feet with inhuman strength. “I shall never tell you!” she said, struggling ad gasping for air. Grasping Lord Malazar’s hands, she used all her strength to make him release her. “It belongs to my parents—you have no right to own it! I shall die before I give you what you ask for!” “Foolish woman!” bellowed Lord Malazar. “You are just like your mother . . . Die!” He flung my mother down the antechamber. My heart leapt as her head hit the side of the wall and she collapsed. I feared her dead and began to panic. Then upon raising my eyes, I saw her rise to her knees. The side of her head bled from hitting the wall, yet she held her hand to her ribs, crawling and collapsing as she tried desperately to reach my father. I fidgeted nonstop as my thoughts raced. If only I could do something! Lord Malazar next rounded on my grandfather Ethanial and grandmother Emaria. Lifting them off their feet without a flinch, he flung them into my mother, knocking all three of them unconscious. He laughed wickedly as he turned his attention back toward my father. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember any of the spells taught me in school to zap Malazar into oblivion. My thoughts were completely jumbled. He sneered at my family as if they were merely grains of salt, easily swept aside when the muddle was over, and continued threatening them. “Now tell me, Shadows, where—is—it?” he said raising his hand, his temper flaring impatiently. “I will not answer to his evil lordship,” my father weakly retorted. Just as Malazar was about to cast another spell on my father, Lady Gondara appeared in a cloud of purple vapor. I knew instantly who she was from pictures I’d seen of her in the Magia Chronicle. Her face was just as dreadful as Malazar’s, except she had scaly skin, gaunt and aged. Her eyes were the blackest of spades, thickly outlined in black and purple face paint. The shape of her face reminded me of a serpent, and her tongue slipped in and out as she spoke, like that of a reptile. “Malazar— you have no right to be here,” she said in a wicked, raspy voice. “What this family has in their possession is mine and mine alone. This family stole it from me several years ago when I was Head Enchantress over the Magians, and it shall be mine again. Be gone! You annoy me!” Lady Gondara pointed her narrow fingers at Lord Malazar as he approached her in fury. Making the shape of a box, she entrapped him in an iron cage surrounded by a fiery shield. “How dare you, witch!” shouted Lord Malazar, zapping at the iron bars. “It belongs to me!” The more he zapped the iron bars with his magic, the thicker each iron bar became. “Quiet, you fool!” Lady Gondara bellowed, glowering at him as if he were merely a misbehaving child. Malazar continued zapping at the bars. Pretty soon, the iron bars thickened until transformed into a solid iron box.Gondara continued threatening him as he disappeared from sight. “I shall eat dirt before I ever let you lay hands on it! As for you, Sir Joseph, you shall tell me where it is, or I shall cause your in-laws a most painful death, as well as send you and your pitiful wife into oblivion, a place only I know of, to keep you prisoner until such time as your deaths. . . . ” “Do what you will; we will never tell you,” my father groaned, scowling at her in repulsion while he embraced his ribs. “It never belonged to you. You stole it from my family, just as you so desperately want to steal it once again!” “Did I?” she said, furrowing her brow. “Then I shall finish what Malazar has kindly already begun for me!” The words slithered from her tongue so wickedly my father closed his eyes, and with one raised arm, waited for death to strike him. With a flick of her serpent scepter Lady Gondara chanted an entrancing incantation in a sinister voice, pointed her narrow bony fingers at my mother and father, and sent them spinning into a bottomless, black hole with one wave of her hand. I watched helplessly as my parents were sent screaming into oblivion. My feet stood dormant, as if entrenched into the stone below me. I tried to scream, but my voice failed me. Lady Gondara appeared unaware of my presence. She closed the black hole and focused her attention back on my grandparents, casting a death spell so formidable on them, that within seconds, their bones turned brittle, and their muscles rotted from the inside out. I tried closing my tearing eyes, but the event of witnessing my grandparents die before me shocked them open. Stumbling backwards, I ran up the stairs petrified by what I had just witnessed. Turning around the corner, I fled down another set of stairs leading to the kitchen on the lower level of the castle. Unable to stop trembling, I struggled to unlock the door gently, so as to not alert Lady Gondara of my presence. With one last glance over my shoulder, I ran for my life through the mist of rain. Running into the Bewitched Forest, I found solace behind a grove of red berry bushes. The Wood surrounding me turned darker, as death wafted in the air. Billowing gray clouds slowly engulfed the full moon. Holding my wet, crimson-brown hair tightly in my hands, I felt cold and ill. After catching my breath, I stood and turned toward my family’s castle, praying that what had just happened was nothing more than a nightmare . . . one that would soon be over. I looked up to see the seven heavens stirring in anger as the sound of death pierced the sky, and church bells rang in Nomagia, the next town over. It was midnight. The sudden realization that I was an orphan facing an uncertain future of life or death began fermenting in my brain. I drew my attention back to my family’s castle upon hearing Lady Gondara’s voice echo a horrifying curse over my family’s home. The earth upturned over the castle; enclosing it like a tomb. Lady Gondara wickedly laughed as she vanished in a cloud of purple vapor, leaving the castle entombed in a mountain of earth and rock, as though it never existed. “No!” I screamed, falling on my hands and knees. Crawling a few inches closer I sobbed and trembled in anger. “My family—” Excessive crying made the dirt below me turn into mud. I wiped my tears with muddy hands, staining wet earth on my face. I took one last look at what was once my home. It was now up to me to avenge my family. Anger coursed through my veins, as though it were being pumped in by pine needles. I decided to take matters into my own hands and wander away from the trauma that would forever stain my memory, leaving it behind me, buried in the earth. Without warning, Lady Gondara’s wicked laugh surrounded me in a maddening fury. I looked all about me, fearful of running into her. Her voice echoed on gusty winds in every which direction. Covering my ears, I ran further into the black trees and shrubbery feeling as though madness was overwhelming my every thought. Unable to escape the one voice I swore to someday silence, I stumbled upon a tree root and landed in front of a huge stone. Looking up, I noticed carved writing covered by twigs and thick green vines. I pulled at the branches and creepers until I could see the carved writing on the stone clearly. It was written in rhyme: To each his own; to own, must seekThou hath come thus far, thy must conjure in speechMagic is but within one’s reach I read it several times, until—

“Amber . . .” Crystal called out, looking in each room for her younger sister. “I’m home. Are you?”

At first, Amber didn’t hear Crystal calling her; she was a bit preoccupied, but as Crystal drew near the hallway and glanced up the attic staircase in curiosity, Amber dropped the journals, startled by footfalls climbing the attic steps. She hurriedly picked up the journals, hid them in an oversized photograph album box, and quickly placed the box on the attic floor near her feet. “I’ll be down in a minute, Crystal,” Amber said hoping she didn’t sound like she was up to something. “I’m doing some research for my homework.”

Panicking, she rearranged Jocelyn’s trunk, tossing spell books into a stacked heap, and draping the wedding dress across the books. Amber had just turned around when Crystal popped her head through the attic opening. Unable to see Amber properly in the dimly lit room, she climbed into the attic, and tossed aside a box of dusty clothes blocking her path.

“Sorry—didn’t hear you—what did you say?” Crystal coughed out. “Where—are—you?”

“Over here, by the window.” Amber jerked her head around and grabbed hold of the candle hastily, causing its wax to burn her hand. She held it safely away from her face, at chest level.

“Don’t do that!” Crystal shrieked, trying to compose herself.

“Do what?” Amber asked oblivious to the fact that her face looked eerie in the candlelight.

“You scared the cobwebs out of me with that candle in front of your face.”

“Oh,” Amber slightly laughed under her breath.

“It’s not funny, Amber!”

“Sorry,” Amber said, turning her lips inward to avoid laughing further. “And to think . . . you and Willow used to tell me stories about dark, magical monsters and dark, magical ghouls living up here . . . honestly.”

“Yeah, well . . . never mind about that.” Crystal glanced around the attic as though expecting to see something out of place or peculiar, and then changed the subject. “Mom never was much for cleaning when she was ‘round.” Crystal touched a few dusty things and then wiped the dust from her hands. “Anyway—didn’t hear what you said earlier.” “I said I was looking around in some of the boxes up here for something to write my assignment on,” Amber repeated, picking up and embracing the photo album box tightly. “I have to write about someone in our family who was extraordinarily brilliant in White Magic witchcraft or wizardry. I couldn’t find anything at the library, so I was hoping to find something of reference up here. Unfortunately, all I found were these old photo album boxes Mom used to show us when we were little—thought I’d just reminisce.”

“Oh,” Crystal said caught off-guard. “Well, whatever . . . it’s time for bed. Willow and I have an early start tomorrow—doubt you’ll find anything useful up here.” Crystal nervously eyed the box in Amber’s arms, hoping her sister had told her the truth and hadn’t found the journals her parents warned her and Willow to never read. She glanced behind Amber as she strolled about. Clearly everything had been searched through and moved out of place.

Then it happened. Crystal came upon Jocelyn’s open trunk. Her eyes widened, she swallowed hard. There lay the wedding dress tossed untidily inside the trunk over several spell books, and on the floor beside the trunk were a few potions books. There was no way of knowing for certain if Jocelyn’s secrets were still safe within the trunk, and this made Crystal very worried. She couldn’t look for the journals, not with Amber around. She’d have to wait until Amber left the house.

Crystal moved a few things around, placing everything back inside the trunk properly, and said, “Best keep Great-Great-Grandma Jocelyn’s trunk together and closed, so Mom doesn’t know you were in it.”

“Why should Mom care?” Amber asked, shrugging. “Besides, we have no idea if she and dad are ever coming home—do we?”

“Let’s not go there, Amber,” Crystal warned her, as she closed and covered the trunk with the yellowing sheet.

“Don’t you think we should organize a search?” Amber began needling Crystal. “I mean, they’ve been gone for nearly a year. Aren’t you worried in the least—don’t you care anymore?”

“Amber, you of all people should know I care about Mom and Dad, but they left explicit instructions as to what they expect of us. We can’t go against their wishes and risk Wizard Welfare Services finding out we’re on our own. Now, let’s not hear any more about something we can’t change. The best thing we can do is stick together as a family and pray for their safe return.”

Amber said nothing more in argument. She recalled previously having this discussion on various occasions, but nothing ever changed in her sister’s answer. As Crystal stood before the trunk, bracing her arms, Amber was watching her reaction. She was certain her sister was worried about something her little sister may have found that she wasn’t supposed to. Her expression appeared like an opening title to a blockbuster movie, thought Amber, one with capital letters flashing on the screen: JOURNALS FOUND! TIME TO PANIC! Crystal’s behavior led Amber to believe she had found a goldmine of forbidden information. She turned her lips inward so as to avoid blurting out her discovery of the two journals, and held onto the box containing them tightly.

The next few hours were rather difficult for Amber to stay quiet about the journals. There were so many questions bombarding her, but calling attention to Jocelyn’s memoirs would only cause a fight between her and Crystal—she was certain of it. Then again, keeping the journals secret would be deceiving her sister and brother, which she had never done before. And if by some off chance they found out, they’d definitely take the journals away—leaving her with nothing to write about. And Amber already had a hard enough time dealing with the fact that Crystal and Willow ordered her around every chance they got. So with this thought in mind, Amber decided to remain quiet about finding Jocelyn’s journals.

Chapter FourThe Emerald Wands Of Chrysalis

L

ater that evening, the electricity was finally restored. As Amber held the two journals, a strange feeling that they were in some way going to aid her in finding her parents and grandparents, made her eager to search for them. She stretched out on a patchwork quilt her mother made for her the previous Christmas, cradled her throw pillows, and began thinking about her parents. The most vivid memory she had was the day they promised they wouldn’t leave their children on their own for longer than necessary: “I promise children, we’ll be home as soon as possible, so don’t worry. Crystal and Willow will take care of you Amber until we come back. Remember my dears, we love you.” Mrs. Shadows kissed her three children good-bye. Then Mr. Shadows picked up Amber, giving her a bear hug and a kiss, saying, “We’ll be home soon. Mind your studies and mind your sister.”

At the time, Amber was okay with their leaving, but she hadn’t really understood the seriousness of the situation. She believed they would only be gone for a few days and then return with grandma and grandpa Chessman safe and sound. She hugged her mother and father good-bye a second time. Then, in an instant, they were gone. Amber, Crystal, and Willow watched them hold hands and chant the Disappearance Spell. They vanished, leaving dissipating vapors where they stood. Amber went back to playing Wizard’s War (a card game very much like the American card game version of War, except the cards have White Magic witches and wizards on them instead of hearts, clubs, diamonds, and spades). Willow had just started teaching her how to play the game at the time.

If only Amber’s intuition had told her they’d be gone indefinitely, then she’d have tried to change their minds to stay, but it seemed a moot point now. Amber embraced the only picture she had of her parents and grandparents. After a few minutes, she propped its frame back against the lamp, wiped a few tears, and fought herself to stop crying. Staring at the ceiling, she began thinking . . . thinking about how much she missed her family . . . thinking about the possibility that Gondara may be the one responsible for their disappearances . . . thinking about the two journals and how they might help in finding her family . . . thinking about going off on her own to search for her parents and grandparents . . . .

Just then, Crystal passed Amber’s bedroom door with a stack of overly thick, heavy White Magic spell books from the library. She placed them on the coffee table in the living room and wandered back into Amber’s bedroom empty-handed.

Leaning against the door, she said, “Someday soon, we need to get up in that old attic and give it a good cleaning.” She hadn’t given consideration to the possibility that she had just disturbed Amber’s thoughts. Crystal eyed each book spine on top of Amber’s desk to see if any of her Advanced White Magic books found their way into her sister’s room. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time, and most definitely would not be the last.

“I’ll be sure to mark it down on my list of things I never want to do,” said Amber miserably, turning away. She wiped her tears, sat up in bed, and stared at her dangling feet.

Crystal remained oblivious to the fact Amber had been crying. She was too preoccupied with the paper cut she had just got from one of the books she picked up and thumbed through.

“See you in the morning,” she sighed, backing out the door without raising her gaze. She squeezed her finger to see how deep the cut was then wished she hadn’t. “Ouch!”

“Yeah, night,” Amber said gloomily, preoccupied with Zappy’s swishing tail sticking out from under the bed.

Crystal then poked her head back in Amber’s room, pointing a finger at her in warning. “Don’t forget to do your chores on Saturday morning if you want Marianna and Jasper over for your birthday campout. Willow and I will be running errands most of the day and will not be home. We were hoping to celebrate your birthday with Mom and Dad and Grandma and Grandpa Chessman, but it looks as though that isn’t going to happen. We’ll do something next weekend to celebrate it since you’re having the campout.” She turned out the light in the hallway, went to her room, and leaned backwards, bidding goodnight to her brother as a last minute afterthought.

“Night, Willow,” Crystal said, sucking the blood from her finger.

“Yeah, night, Willow,” Amber said in a low voice, closing her light. She sat in the dark without changing into her nightdress.

“Night,” Willow absentmindedly reciprocated from down the hall. His quill was busily scratching his singular thoughts, as he worked on one of his many complicated potions assignments. Lying across her bed with her feet on her pillow, Amber stared at the dark star-filled sky. Her eyes fixated on the full moon showing through the narrow crack in her drapes. Thoughts and questions about the journal and her parents and grandparents’ disappearance interweaved into the most terrifying situations. Something had to have happened to them, for them to be gone so many months. Amber hated the fact that Crystal reminded her numerous times she couldn’t go off on her own to search for them. However, if truth be known, she still thought about it, and thought about it often. If only she had an idea as to where to look. Several hours later, the house was in darkness except for Willow’s candlelit room. His room was the only room in the house that had no electricity, and none of the Shadows children had any clue why. Then again, it never occurred to any of them to ask about it when their parents were still at home. Amber’s eyes drooped down to narrow slits from exhaustion, but no matter how many different positions she tried to fall asleep in, she simply couldn’t shut down her mind. She turned on the light and stared at her family’s photo again. There had to be something she could do to bring them home. Tossing the picture to her bed, she got to her feet and pulled out Jocelyn’s journals from between the mattresses. Zappy jumped up on the bed and sprawled out at her feet as Amber settled herself with the first journal across her lap. She held high hopes of finding something—anything that would give her a clue as to where to begin searching for them. Amber licked her fingertip to turn the pages. “Now . . . where did I leave off?” She had just found her place when a premonition of her sister walking in on her, telling her “lights out” made her glance at the doorknob—it was unlocked. She dashed to the door, locked it, and hurried back to the book. “Whew!” said Amber. “Have to be more mindful of what I’m doing.” Settling herself back in bed, Amber opened Jocelyn’s memoirs and lost herself in Jocelyn’s world. 29 October -evening I could not make heads or tales of what the carved riddle in the boulder meant—only that it was something I had to decipher in order to make the boulder move from in front of the cave. It sounded like a spell I had heard my mother use several times. As to its meaning, I hadn’t a clue. Continually repeating the carved riddle in my mind, it finally made sense to me: “To each, his own” means every witch or wizard has his or her own magic spells and incantations. “To own, must seek” means I have to look for or come up with the magic spell if I want to enter the cave. “Thou hath come thus far, thy must conjure in speech” means to recite the spell, to open the entrance of the cave. “Magic is but within one’s reach” means most likely if it is a spell, it will be written around here somewhere disguised as an object. Now what could it be? Perhaps it is as simple as a key shaped like something in nature? I looked around the stone for ridges and more carvings. I then ripped away the branches and vines as well as several medium-sized, yet heavy, rocks. Still there was nothing to suggest on how to get in. Just then, I had an odd feeling to look behind me. A pair of golden-red eyes stared at me from behind, then the creature let out a big hooting sound. Startled, I stepped backwards and stumbled on loose branches, falling against the boulder that covered the entrance to the cave. The creature’s face was partially hidden in the shadows of the night. I lay stiff on the ground waiting for the worst to happen. Suddenly, the most beautiful tawny, pepper-speckled owl I’d ever laid eyes upon came into full view in the moonlight and spoke. “Hoo, hoo . . . who are you, young maiden?” hooted the owl. It stretched its vast wings twice and looked at me with intensity. There was nowhere to run. I couldn’t outrun the creature, so I stood very still, and very frightened. “I . . . rather . . . my name is . . . J-Jocelyn,” I stuttered. I feared she would attack if I dared move a muscle. “I didn’t mean to intrude. Is t-this y-your home?” Her size intimidated me. She was quite large for an owl. The owl ruffled her feathers. “Hoo, hoo . . . yes it is, my fair maiden, I’ve come to help. I saw what Lady Gondara did to your family’s castle in the valley—such tragedy it is—most tragic, yes indeedy.” My hammering heart sank like sand through an hourglass when I realized she was kindhearted in manner as she spoke. “So you are not here to harm me?” “Hoo, hoo . . . no, my fair maiden, you’ve come to seek Mrs. Tuttles’ help, I do believe,” hooted the owl. “You are here looking for a way in, are you not?” “Well, yes,” I said, “but I was only looking for shelter. I have never heard of a—Mrs. Tuttles. Can she help me? Is she a White Magic witch?” I stepped closer to the owl in anxious hope. “Hoo, hoo…” The owl profoundly hooted. “Oh yes, indeedy, she is magical—that she is. However she is not a White Magic witch. She is Queen of all the Faeries in the Bewitched Forest.” “Pardon me . . . but what is your name?” I asked out of curiosity, picking up a branch and picking its leaves off, one by one. The owl hooted and took a grand bow. “Hoo, hoo . . . my name is Mystasia—at your service.” “I am honored to meet you, Mystasia,” I said, curtsying. “Do you know of a spell to open the cave?” “Hoo, hoo . . . look under and around the rocks you’ve already found,” Mystasia said curtly. She ruffled her feathers and side-stepped every so often, as if she were uncomfortably hot. I began picking up and turning rocks over until I found a peculiar shaped rock, cold to the touch, with a shimmering glow about it. It was in the shape of a toad with a spell written in tiny letters on its left webbed foot. “This surely cannot be the key, can it?” I asked Mystasia as I held and perused the stone, studying its possibilities. “Hoo, hoo . . . it surely is, yes indeedy,” hooted the owl, expanding and flapping her wings. Feeling thwarted, I asked, “Where am I supposed to put it? I see no entry for a key.” “Hoo, hoo . . . push the key against the boulder in every place while reciting the words found on his left webbed foot,” hooted Mystasia. “If you choose properly, the boulder will move aside like an unfolding hand.” She flew to a tree standing left of the cave, perching on a high branch to watch safely from a distance. I had a difficult time reading the words, “Umo openia caverono.” They were most definitely not words of common sense. Yet, I spoke them clearly and pressed the toad key across the boulder until finally, the toad key pushed completely in on the bottom left corner. The ground rumbled and bits of rocks began falling from the overhead mountain behind the cave. I fell backwards from the quake of the ground, bumping my head on an overgrown tree root. The boulder divided into two halves, then turned into faerie dust as each side vanished. I picked up the key and tucked it securely in my sash for safekeeping. Mystasia hooted as she flew down and settled on top of the open entrance. She craned her head under her feet, glancing inside the cave and then back at me. Hoo, hoo . . . you must take the tunnel, dark though it may be,” Mystasia hooted again, flapping her wings twice. “Keep following the path until light you will see.” In high hopes I asked, “Mystasia, will you come with me? I’m sort of . . . not fond of the dark.” “Hoo, hoo . . . there is nothing to fear in the dark, my dear,” hooted Mystasia, “however, I shall be happy to guide you to the light.” I followed Mystasia into the dark tunnel through cobwebs and spiders. I have always hated spiders, having no use for them whatsoever, and always thought them frightening creatures. The tunnel was cold and damp with eerie noises of high-pitched echoing voices, flapping wings, and rodents scurrying by every now and again. Out of frightened anticipation, I picked up a stone and grasped it tightly. I had no idea where this kind creature of feathers was leading me. Yet, as fearful as I was, the mere thought of anguish I held within my heart over my grandparent’s death, and my parents being trapped in oblivion, gave me the courage to move ahead without hesitation. I needed help; someone with magical powers to help me avenge the loss of my family and home. Mrs. Tuttles, Queen of the Faeries, was my only hope. Mystasia led me to an opening with a bright light. I looked around and slid down a crystal slide elaborately detailed with faeries and angels. Just beyond the end of the slide was a clear blue waterfall and two fruit trees—one on each side. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. Red roses and white lilies cloaked the damp earth around the crystal slide. River rocks adorned the waterfall; the air felt warm and inviting; and the sound of sparrows peacefully chirping in mystic melody flooded the cave. One would never know one was in an underground cave. The walls brilliantly glistened with diamonds and emerald gems of the most flawless nature. It was unlike any other place I’d ever been to or dreamt about. I began to wander around when suddenly a brilliant, glittering, gold light zoomed around me in three circles, landing on the fourth. Fearful of going blind, I squinted from its brightness, and watched the light slowly descend and fade. In its brilliance, there stood before me a pale, plump faerie with gold glitter on her face. White satin handkerchief hems and feathers graced her figure and enormous wings of white sustained her weight. She clutched her crystal scepter and looked at me puzzled, then turned to Mystasia as if I were invisible. “Who is this young maiden seeking my help, Mystasia?” the Faerie inquired with a prim and proper attitude. Mystasia bowed her head respectfully and hooted in reply, “Hoo, hoo . . . her name is Jocelyn Shadows, my Queen. She lost her family at the Dark Magic hand of Lady Gondara and Lord Malazar.” “Pardon me, but what is your name?” I interrupted uncertain if this was the queen faerie Mystasia had been referring to. The Queen Faerie gazed down at the earth below her miserably, as though she’d been dethroned in one simple question. “My child, my name is Mrs. Tuttles, Queen of the Faeries, yet I fear I am not able to help anyone at the present time.” “Hoo, hoo . . . what is troubling you, my Queen?” asked Mystasia empathetically. She had never seen Mrs. Tuttles in such a saddened state. “One year ago today, my betrothed was taken by Lady Gondara and locked up in the dungeons of her castle,” began Mrs. Tuttles as a crystal tear fell from her ocean-blue eyes. “I tried to stop her, but she wounded me and took possession of my wand. It was the highest in power of two wands owned in all the Wood. Alas, my powers . . . are almost nil without it. It is known as the Silver Emerald Wand of Chrysalis. It holds every thought, wish, and enchanted magic spell known to the Bewitched Forest. Without it, I’m almost completely powerless.” Mrs. Tuttles sat down on an oak stump magically converted into a throne and averted eye contact with me. “Who owns the other wand?” I asked curiously, kneeling down at her feet. Mrs. Tuttles turned to face me and replied, “I believe the wand is hidden in the Shadows Castle. It was owned by your family. However, Lady Gondara must have it by now, seeing as you’re here after witnessing her terrifying deed upon your family.” “I can’t say for certain . . . I left before she buried my family’s castle in the earth with a curse.” My words choked me as I spoke the unspeakable, forcing me to remember the horror inflicted upon my family. “I watched her torture and kill my grandparents. My parents . . . she sent into oblivion. I didn’t know what else to do but run. That’s when I met Mystasia and she brought me to you.” Amber sat up in eye-opening realization.

“So that’s what Lady Gondara was after . . . the Emerald wand of Chrysalis my ancestors owned! She’d already stolen Mrs. Tuttles’ wand and needed the other to have complete power!”

Rubbing her half-open eyes, Amber tucked the journals back in between the mattresses and lay back in bed, still unable to sleep. The journal entries were too fascinating to forget. If only Jocelyn had written better dates on her entries, it would have made Amber’s Magia assignment a bit easier to write. Her thoughts shifted from how to write the assignment to several questions zooming round in her brain. What if the journals magically appeared in the trunk after being invisible all these years? What if my parents and siblings knew the journals existed and kept them secret on purpose? But why would they want to keep them secret all these years? Perhaps I’m wrong and they never opened the trunk, then they would have no way of knowing about the journals. Then again, perhaps they did. Crystal had a strange look on her face when she saw Jocelyn’s trunk open. Obviously Jocelyn wanted me out of everyone in my family to find them, but why?

Amber’s thoughts intertwined in inconclusive answers and faded. Yawning, she turned over and reasoned with her mind that whatever the reason, she would make sense of it all in the morning.

In a matter of seconds, she fell into a deep, deep sleep, and the parchment on her desk lay blank.

Chapter FiveLosing Track Of Time

F

riday morning came and went and Amber still hadn’t breathed a word to Crystal or Willow about the journals. She arrived late to school, and from there, the whole day seemed to be one big rush with no time to stop and chat.

Hoping to reveal her secret to Jasper Silverton and Marianna Wentworth, (her two best friends since the age of five) Amber waited in the cafeteria, eating lunch and finishing her algebra homework. But Jasper and Marianna never showed. They got held up in the library, having difficulty in finding the reference books needed for their history assignments before the bell rang. Even during free period, when all three were together, turned into a big rush to finish writing essays due that afternoon for English class.

After school, Marianna and Jasper’s parents were waiting to pick them up as they walked out the front doors. If only Amber could have had one minute alone with them to tell them about the journals. Sadly, she withdrew from telling her sister and brother about how her day went, and sat staring out the window as they headed home in the downpour.

That night, Crystal drove Willow and Amber to pick up Marianna and Jasper, and the whole lot of them headed off to Magia Sessions. The downpour had turned into a violent thunderstorm, yet Magia Sessions were still scheduled. As Amber sat with Marianna and Jasper in the back seat, she thought about whispering her secret to them, but remained silent after thinking more of it. She didn’t dare mention the journals with her sister and brother in the car. There was every possibility they would overhear her private conversation.

All during Magia Sessions, Amber sat thinking she’d have a chance to chat with Marianna and Jasper after class, so she waited patiently until the dismissal bell rang at eight o’clock. Hurrying out of her seat, Amber sighed in relief that she was finally going to be able to tell them the secret she had been hiding since Thursday evening.

Amber pulled Marianna and Jasper by the arm, and was just about to fill them in on what she had found, when just outside the classroom door, Crystal and Willow stood, waiting to drive them home. She had no choice but to wait until Saturday afternoon to let her friends in on her secret.

Next day, Amber woke extremely early. That is to say, extremely early for Amber, around eight-thirty or so, instead of sleeping in as she always did on Saturday mornings. Today was her fourteenth birthday and the day of the campout. She was eager to continue reading Jocelyn’s journals and confide in Marianna and Jasper all she had read thus far. Crystal and Willow had already left to run their errands, and had trusted Amber to do her chores while they were gone. However, Amber had other plans.

The morning was rather wet and gloomy as the October wind rustled crimson, brown, and burnt-yellow leaves outside Amber’s window. She removed the terry cloth towel blocking out the chill of autumn, inhaled a deep breath of fresh air to wake up, and lost her senses in its glorious scent.

Autumn was Amber’s favorite time of year. Although the weather was dismal a majority of the time, it was this time of year when she read the most books. She loved escaping into the fantasy world of the adventure she was reading. And if she didn’t have an adventure to read, she would create one.

Curiosity pressured Amber for answers as she ate breakfast. She wolfed down the last bit of dry toast and strawberry-kiwi juice, cleared her dishes to the sink, and headed toward her bedroom at full speed. She had to continue her read.

Pulling out the first journal, Amber settled on her bed and began delving into its contents. The intensity of her curiosity withdrew her attention from doing her assignment, and drew her into the adventurous world of Jocelyn. A world of magical objects and a dangerous entity she was certain had something to do with the disappearance of her parents and grandparents.

29 October Entry Continued . . . How is it that my family possessed the second Emerald Wand of Chrysalis and you the other?” I asked completely confused as I paced back and forth. I had to understand for myself what the connection was between Mrs. Tuttles and my family. “Until both of the Emerald Wands of Chrysalis are found,” she began, “it is forbidden to speak such knowledge. Keeping silent is the only way to protect the miraculous powers of the two wands and those involved. If such knowledge ever fell into the hands of Lady Gondara, I fear it would be the end of Magia and the peaceful Magian community.” I stopped pacing and glared at Mrs. Tuttles a little insulted that she couldn’t trust me with such knowledge, seeing as my family owned one of the wands. However, I understood her reason for keeping a silent tongue, so I changed the subject. “What if we help each other?” I asked out of desperation to find my parents. “I have very little magic without my wand,” she replied wearily. “However, I want my betrothed back and—” Mrs. Tuttles broke off in mid-sentence as though she’d become prisoner to her own miserable thoughts.
“I must rescue my parents!” I said desperately, getting to my feet. “We can’t let her continue to terrorize the Bewitched Forest and Magia! And we most certainly can’t let her get away with your wand and the one my family owned.” Mrs. Tuttles said nothing as she turned her back to us and stared at the glistening waterfall. After several moments, she turned back to Mystasia and me, her brow furrowed and lips pursed. She had made up her mind. Standing up lividly she said, “I will help you in any way I can. I must rescue my betrothed, and I most definitely want back my Silver Emerald Wand of Chrysalis—it is rightfully mine. Gondara has no right to keep it.” Fluttering her wings, she flew toward the crystal slide and gestured for me and Mystasia to follow her. “Take hold of my crystal scepter and hang on.” She closed her eyes, raised her free hand, and magically lifted us both up to and through the dark tunnel. Mystasia followed close behind, hooting and calling out, “Hoo, hoo . . . wait for me!” Moments later, we reached the outside entrance of the cave. Mrs. Tuttles turned and waved her hands, making the boulder to the entrance magically appear once more. I touched it out of avid curiosity to see if it was solid—indeed it was. No one would ever know that the cave had been opened. As the night progressed into dawn, Mrs. Tuttles and Mystasia were ahead of me by at least a couple of feet. All I could think of was how much I wanted to sleep, but there was no time. I sprinted to catch up, which wasn’t easy in bare feet. Birds chirped all around us and the ground was damp from morning dew. Trees of oak, birch, pine, and fur swayed and dodged the bitter breeze that blew intensely through their branches. “What’s our plan?” I asked, rubbing my shoulders to keep warm. “Where’re we going?” I watched all around me as I traipsed onward, envisioning possible dangers lurking about. “We must go to Waterfall Castle—Lady Gondara’s castle,” Mrs. Tuttles said decisively. She flew higher into the sky and headed in the direction of the castle. “This way—follow me!” I gathered my nightdress around me, trying desperately to keep warm as the chilling breeze whistled around me, chilling me to the bone. I wasn’t looking forward to journeying onward to Lady Gondara’s castle. My hatred for her was anything but shy. My thoughts were relishing in seeing her suffer even though I knew it would not bring back my family. To make matters worse, I couldn’t shake the fearful possibility she would end my life before I had a chance to fight her. The orange and pink sun began to rise as our journey continued. I wasn’t certain if Mrs. Tuttles’ infuriation helped matters any. I only knew she had good reason and fortitude. My blood writhed so intensely with retribution against Lady Gondara, that I had a difficult time watching where I was going. My bare feet ached from having tripped on several tree roots along the path, and I was wretchedly hungry. Mystasia flew overhead, sometimes in circles, making sure I wasn’t left behind. It was amazing to watch her soar in good spirits, even though we journeyed on for what must have been miles. “I have to sit down, Mrs. Tuttles,” I said, rubbing each foot. “My feet are aching unbearably. Mystasia can fly, you have wings to glide with, but I have to burden my feet. How much further is our journey to Waterfall Castle anyway?” Mrs. Tuttles pointed to a clearing between two giant evergreen trees and said, “My dear, you can make it. It’s just over that clearing beyond the trees. Here, let me attend to your feet.” With a wave of her crystal scepter, glistening faerie dust entwined around my feet like satin ribbons, making them feel tingly and light—free of pain. “Euphoria!” I sighed in relief. “Thank you!” I stood up ready to continue on with our journey. “Hoo, hoo . . . we better get a move on before Lady Gondara finds out what we’re up to.” Mystasia warned us, as she landed on a nearby tree stump. “Yes, we mustn’t lose any more time,” Mrs. Tuttles added, flying upward and forward, down the path to the clearing she pointed to just seconds before. It took me a rather short time to push through the thick Wood as the sun began to shine extensively bright. Waterfall Castle was now in full view. We hid behind the underbrush until sunset, devising our plan to get into the castle without any of her guards being the wiser. Mrs. Tuttles gestured for us to lean in closer and said, “Lady Gondara has an enchantment spell on the castle to ward off intruders. We must make our way in, but it has to be consummated in an intelligent manner, or we stand every chance of getting ourselves caught and killed. And I just happen to know exactly how to go about it.” A look of deviousness glossed over her eyes. I could tell she had a brilliant plan in mind. “The castle is under an enchantment spell to ward off intruders: humans, faeries, wizards, and witches, that is to say. What say you, if I transformed us both into animals?” “What about Mystasia?” I asked worried about her safety. “Is she coming with us, or is Lady Gondara clueless as to who she is?” “Mystasia must stay here at the edge of the Wood to warn us of any trouble,” said Mrs. Tuttles, pacing back and forth in contemplation. “Now let’s see, what shall I transform into?” “I always wanted to be a wild cat, is that okay?” I blurted out excitedly, interrupting Mrs. Tuttles’ train of thought. She stopped pacing and leered at me, than continued sorting through her choices. I looked down at the ground in embarrassment and apologized under my breath for interrupting her. I quickly got over my awkwardness as I sat down and broke a thin branch into bits and pieces. I began worrying that Mrs. Tuttles’ magic may not work, and if it did, how long would it be before we would start transforming back into our true forms? Rather than interrupt Mrs. Tuttles again, I sat patiently, waiting for her final decision. “I think I shall be a seagull, since I have wings already,” she said after nearly five minutes had passed. Pointing a finger in warning at me she added, “And as long as you don’t follow your animal nature and try to attack me as a bird, I shall transform you as you wish.” “I’ll try not to,” I said, getting to my feet. “I’m ready any time you are.” Closing my eyes, I stood very still and uncertain of the consequences for being transformed. And then one last thought popped into my head just as Mrs. Tuttles was about to transform me. “Is this going to be painful?” “It’s a little uncomfortable, but you won’t remember it,” said Mrs. Tuttles as if it were nothing to worry about. She pointed her crystal scepter at me, and within seconds I became a sleek, black panther. Mrs. Tuttles then transformed herself. Within seconds she was a beautiful seagull. As for me, there was no other word to describe my peculiar feeling other than strange. I still felt like me, except that I was no longer walking on two feet, rather, I was walking on four paws and my eyesight was incredibly perceptive, to say the least. “You must go in through the moat and enter through the drawbridge,” Mrs. Tuttles called out, soaring toward the castle. She landed on the highest turret and turned to face me. Taken aback, I repeated, “Go through the moat? I’m a cat, Mrs. Tuttles . . . and there are crocodiles in that water . . . they’ll eat me alive!” I swallowed hard, staring at the moat with wide eyes, completely opposed to the idea of entering water, housing man-eating creatures of the ugliest life form. “All right, then, you’ll have to wait until horses enter the drawbridge and follow them in,” Mrs. Tuttles replied snobbishly. “However, you cannot attack them, and you must sneak in. Otherwise, we shall most assuredly get caught!” Mrs. Tuttles expanded her wings for a brief spell. “Hurry, you’ve no time to lose! Here come a couple of guardsmen on horses now!” She flew behind the castle arrow slits, watching cautiously from a distance. I hid beneath the underbrush not far from the moat, waiting until two guardsmen in greaves, armor breast plates, and quilted body suits passed. I looked up on instinct. Triple-horned dragons with flashing black onyx eyes adorned each side of the entrance, intimidating me, and giving me the awkward feeling that I was being watched. I cautiously slinked lower behind the two guardsmen until I was over the drawbridge, then I safely slipped into the castle. The two guardsmen went one way; I, the other. The sensitivity of my senses distracted and amazed me as I moved about. The aroma of stuffed, roast pheasant wafted throughout the castle. If only I could have a taste, just a morsel of its delectable creation . . . I was truly starving. It took every bit of willpower I had to abstain from jumping on the table and devouring all the food. Although my stomach growled from hunger, I kept in mind that Gondara would order the guards to kill me instantly, should I dare to make such an appearance. Craning my neck around the entrance to the great hall, I could see and hear Lady Gondara ordering her servant to bring her guests their dinner and wine. It was now or never, as Gondara was occupied with her servant. I climbed up the stairs to the highest west tower where Mrs. Tuttles said she’d wait for me. “Mrs. Tuttles, are you here?” I whispered nervously, continually checking behind me for guards. The room was damp and moldy. I could not see Mrs. Tuttles anywhere. Then I thought perhaps I was in the wrong tower. I was just about to leave when suddenly a pecking sound came from the closed window. I jumped onto the ledge, unlatched the lock with my mouth—an awful taste, not worth remembering—and Mrs. Tuttles flew in, landing next to me with her crystal scepter in her mouth. She wasted no time in transforming us back into our true forms. Mrs. Tuttles spat out the taste of the crystal scepter in her mouth and looked about the room. “Now we have to find somewhere to hide until Gondara goes to bed. The only question is . . . where?” My stomach muscles twisted into spasms just thinking about the possibility that Gondara would have ways of knowing where we were hiding, so I said, “She’s bound to know we’re here in the castle and set the guards on us. She is a sorceress, after all.” “As long as no one sees us to inform her of our presence, she will not check her crystal ball to see if the castle has been intruded upon,” said Mrs. Tuttles confidently. “She’s arrogant enough to believe no one could possibly figure out how to get into her castle under an enchantment spell. However, we must stay hidden. Here, take this . . .” Page after page Amber eagerly read and scribbled notes here and there for quick reference. She was certain she’d need them later on, when Marianna and Jasper were over for her birthday campout. As she read the second to last entry, the grandfather clock bonged half past eleven o’clock. She glanced at the cauldron alarm clock on her bedside table and realized it was getting late, and she should’ve stopped reading an hour ago. She hadn’t done any of the chores on Crystal’s list, hadn’t started writing the first rough draft of her Magia assignment, and more than likely, she wasn’t going to make it on time to meet up with Marianna and Jasper for their routinely walk to Magia Sessions. Amber seriously thought about taking her time in writing her assignment and blowing off her chores, but then Crystal would send her friends home as punishment. So rather than having her birthday campout ruined, she closed the journals and hurriedly hid them away. There was only one way Amber could handle the situation; she’d have to divide the time left to get both done. First, she wrote up her assignment and read it through in a rush. Everything seemed to be written in chronological order and made sense. Next, she hurried to the kitchen counter, where she found the list of chores Crystal had written out: 1) Dust the living room 2) Do the dishes3) Sweep the kitchen4) Clean the bathroom sink and tub Make certain your chores are done if you plan on having Jasper and Marianna over for a campout tonight! See you later, Crystal The clock bonged 12:15 as Amber grabbed the dusting spray and rag out from under the kitchen sink. She tackled the chores, continuously checking the time. Talk about being under pressure! If only she could stop time. But stopping time was not possible and this wasn’t the first time she was under pressure to get things done, and rest assured, it most certainly wouldn’t be the last. Although Amber wasn’t one to complain, her private thoughts were a different story. Why couldn’t Crystal do some of these chores herself? She hated doing dishes, and most especially, hated cleaning the bathroom. To help relieve the antagonistic feelings she felt for being bothered with time-consuming housework, Amber turned on the radio to her favorite station. She scratched off each chore as she finished each one, and sang a few songs here and there as she went along. A short while later, Amber checked the clock to see what time it was. She only had fifteen minutes to get ready and head down to Marianna’s house, but she wanted to finish reading the last entry of 29 October-evening. Five minutes should be enough time, thought Amber. She’d already gathered everything she needed into her backpack for class, and had already showered earlier this morning, so five minutes wouldn’t cause her to be late. Then again, when it came to reading, Amber had a bad habit of losing track of time when she was engrossed in a good read. Amber pulled out and thumbed through the first journal until she found the last page she had been reading. Just as she settled herself in bed with the journal laying across her lap, Zappy the family cat pranced in with a note tied to his ruby collar. He jumped on Amber’s bed, purring loudly as she untied the note, and stepped onto the open book for Amber to scratch his ears in appreciation for services rendered. Suddenly, the book zapped his paws. He slinked backwards, spitting and hissing at the open book, then jumped to the floor and vaporized into wizard form. Amber closed the book on her hand, completely shocked by the book zapping him. “I see you found the secrets, Mistress,” he said, blowing on his cat-like fingertips. “Indeed I did!” Amber said, smiling. “Thank you for cluing me in on where to look. As to the journal, I don’t know why it zapped you, Zapphorya, but I’m truly sorry. Are you all right?” “Yes, Mistress, I am all right,” Zapphorya winced, “burned, but all right.” Just then, he vaporized back into a feline and took off like a bullet; chasing a mouse scurrying across the floor that caught his eye. Out through the broken screen of Amber’s bedroom window flew the mouse, and into the screen crashed Zappy. A bit dazed, he shook his head and dashed off the bedside table, out of the room with flat ears and fur on end. “Wonder why the journal zapped him?” Amber muttered, shaking her head in puzzlement. She ripped open the wax seal on the folded letter and read: Amber, Your brother and I will be home just after supper. Make yourself a sandwich and get your things ready for the campout. We ran into the Wentworths and Silvertons at the market. Both will be out by seven o’clock tonight, weather permitting. Have fun. We’ll see you soon. Stay out of trouble! Crystal P.S. Make sure your chores are done! Amber crumpled up the note and tossed it into the dustbin alongside her rickety wooden desk. Always trying to push me around, even when she’s not here. She shook her head side to side and sighed. Crystal’s little reminder was one of many over the last several months and not worth getting upset over. Just as she was about to continue reading, goose bumps prickled on her forearms, and a shiver zipped up and down her spine from the chill in the room. The wind outside was forcibly blowing in brisk air through the hole in her window. She’d have to stuff it with something to block out the cold, but what could she use? It had to be something old and not likely to be missed. Using the towel she normally kept on her bedside table wasn’t an option at the moment, it was in the laundry. Grabbing a pair of old, painted up sweatpants from the floor, Amber stuffed them into the hole. She then slipped into an old cotton robe her mother had given her last year on Christmas Eve. With the cold air now trapped in the room, Amber gathered the patched quilt around her tightly for added warmth and resumed reading. She had completely forgotten about meeting Marianna, Jasper, and about attending Magia Sessions. 29 October-Late evening Mrs. Tuttles opened a silver box the size of a cracker and pulled out two crystal-clear pills with silver glitter inside each. She took one for herself and gave me the other. “What is this?” I asked curiously. It resembled the size of shrunken caterpillar lying dormant in my hand. “These are invisibility pills,” explained Mrs. Tuttles. “They will make you invisible until midnight. That is all the time we have to find my betrothed and retrieve the Silver Emerald Wand of Chrysalis. Once I have the wand, I can free your parents.” I had never heard of pills before, only liquid concoctions for spells and such. I looked at it, rolling it around in my hand in amazement. Mrs. Tuttles swallowed her pill as though it was nothing to cringe at. In a matter of seconds, she had completely disappeared. I then closed my eyes, sheepishly swallowing the pill. I kept my eyes closed for several seconds, afraid to look into the mirror on the opposite wall of the antechamber. Then all of a sudden I opened my eyes . . . I was invisible! Being so caught up in amazement of my own invisibility, I had forgotten Mrs. Tuttles was invisible too. I began searching for Mrs. Tuttles when a hand grabbed my shoulder, startling me enough to jump out of ten years’ growth. “It’s only me, Jocelyn,” whispered Mrs. Tuttles. She led me by the hand out of the tower and down the stairs. We passed the great hall where Lady Gondara was eating and chatting with other witches and wizards, complaining of how horribly prepared the dinner was. She was nearly finished with her main meal when an elderly dwarf woman came into the great hall with a tray of dessert and port. I could tell by the look on Lady Gondara’s face that she was not at all pleased with what had been served for dessert. While Lady Gondara was belittling her servant, Mrs. Tuttles and I tiptoed past the great hall entrance. I abruptly stopped, watching the sorrowful scene. Mrs. Tuttles bumped into me and stumbled. “Would you get moving before someone sees our gel forms?” Mrs. Tuttles whispered in my ear impatiently, pushing me along. “Where would she keep the keys to unlock the dungeons?” I turned and whispered back to Mrs. Tuttles. “Let’s worry about the wand first,” she replied, pushing me yet again to get a move on. “It shall be of great use to us once we have it in our possession.” Mrs. Tuttles kept pushing me forward, down the antechamber. Apparently, I was not moving fast enough for her liking. I looked in every display case as we crept along, perusing each one for the wand, but the wand was nowhere in sight. Murals of hangings and torture displayed every so often along the walls throughout the keep. Upon reaching the end of the antechamber, we stopped and stared at several glass display cabinets. Inside each sat various cracked skulls, three to each shelf. I could only assume Gondara was keeping them displayed like trophies for her viewing pleasure. “She really is quite sick, isn’t she?” I whispered in repulsion. “Morally deranged, would be a better way of putting it,” Mrs. Tuttles whispered back in my ear. “Never mind the skulls . . . the wand must be in a secretly hidden room somewhere below the main level of the castle. It will not be in one of the dungeon chambers we can simply unlock with a key.” Even at my age, I could’ve figured that out for myself, but I went along with her without any further conversation. I wanted to get as far away from Lady Gondara and her arts of torture as quickly as I could. Mrs. Tuttles grabbed my hand and led me through the kitchen, through another antechamber, through an arched doorway, and down a spiral staircase. I couldn’t help wondering how she was able to see me, seeing as we were both invisible. It wasn’t until we approached the stone stairwell, that I pulled my hand from hers, and subdued my curiosity. “Mrs. Tuttles, I have to ask this,” I said as if what I had to ask had to be answered right then and there. “Make it quick and mind your voice!” she replied sternly as if I didn’t already know this. “How is it you know exactly where I am at all times?” I asked, folding my arms. “That, my child is one of my given gifts,” she said proudly. “The gift of seeing invisible people was bestowed upon me the day I was crowned Queen of the Faeries. Now let’s be on our way! Time is of the essence!” Wrought iron cressets lit the curved stone stairwell as we stepped down three stories into the dungeons. Flame-lit cressets were on our left, and rooms with iron doors and iron locks were on our right. Of all the places on earth I most likely would never want to be, this dungeon was at the top of my list. “There must be more than ten chambers down here,” I said softly. “How are we going to search every one before Lady Gondara comes down here? Surely she has a routine to check that the wand is safely hidden in her possession.” “Quiet!” Mrs. Tuttles said, grabbing hold of me. “I hear someone coming! Quickly! This way!” Mrs. Tuttles pulled my arm hard, nearly pulling it out of its socket, and led me into an unlocked room quite minute in size, dark, to say the least, and very, very dusty. I had to hold my nose to avoid sneezing, which was quite difficult, seeing as it was such an awfully cramped space. “Mrs. Tidbits, are you down here?” Lady Gondara called furiously. We kept the door open a smidgen to hear and see Lady Gondara coming down the winding staircase. She stopped every so often to listen for noises. It seemed to me, from what little I could see through the crack in the door, that by the way she shifted her eyes looking about the dungeon, she had a premonition of someone or something lurking about. “Why are we hiding, if we’re invisible?” I whispered in Mrs. Tuttles’ ear, completely puzzled. “Shush!” Mrs. Tuttles nervously hissed in my ear. “We don’t know the extent of her powers; she may be able to see invisible people. Now, shush!” I was about to press my question further when Mrs. Tuttles instantly cupped her hands tightly over my mouth. I could feel her trembling behind me as Lady Gondara stopped to listen for noises in front of our hiding place. After a moments’ silence, Gondara moved on in search of Mrs. Tidbits. Mrs. Tuttles removed her hand slowly after Lady Gondara was out of sight. “Let’s see where she goes,” she whispered in my ear. “Maybe she’ll lead us to the wand. Make it a point to mind your breathing. And most importantly, stay at a far distance so she doesn’t sense she’s being followed!” We waited until the sight of her robes was completely gone before opening the door enough to slip out and follow her. From a distance, we watched Gondara reveal a hidden entrance with an enchantment spell. Suddenly an arched doorway appeared, and no sooner did she step through, it disappeared instantly, without a trace of existence. We approached the curved wall and pressed against the stones. It appeared we had come to a dead end. “How are we going to get in?” I softly asked Mrs. Tuttles. “Do you know the spell she used?” I felt frustrated that we had come this far, only to find there was no way to get to the wand, if it was indeed hidden in that secret room. I paced the floor, trying to think of something, yet my brain grew tired and I felt drained of ideas. I didn’t feel comfortable moving about invisibly and hated the fact that I couldn’t see Mrs. Tuttles, yet she could see me. I was never certain if it was Mrs. Tuttles’ footsteps I was hearing, or if it was one of Gondara’s guards waiting to lock me up. And to make matters worse, every time I felt a hand on my shoulder I jumped ten feet out of my skin. Of course, this was widely due to my being nervous and overreacting out of fear. Mrs. Tuttles, on the other hand, appeared to be quite comfortable with her invisibility. Amber looked at the miniature cauldron clock on her bedside table. “Cobwebs and spider legs . . . it’s nearly one-fifteen!”

Chapter SixThe Birthday Campout

A

mber would most certainly be in trouble now, but what could she do? Not only did she miss meeting Marianna and Jasper on time, she was also late for class. Professor Whittlesworth was certain to be very cross indeed, no matter what excuse Amber came up with to avoid detention. Should she miss class and say she was sick? No, then Crystal would cancel the campout. And she had been looking forward to this birthday campout for several weeks now. Hurriedly clambering out of bed, Amber flung off her robe, and ripped a piece of paper to hold her place in the journal. She snapped it shut, hid it under her mattress, raced out of the house, and headed off to Magia Sessions. With every step, Amber tried to come up with an acceptable explanation to give Professor Whittlesworth as to why she was late. Twenty minutes later, Amber appeared in class thoroughly winded with her feet soaking wet and muddy. She closed her umbrella and hesitantly stepped into the classroom, disrupting Whittlesworth’s lecture, and drawing the attention of her fellow classmates. “Miss Shadows . . . how kind of you to join us,” Professor Whittlesworth said pretentiously, placing his hands behind his broad back prominently. “I’ve heard of being fashionably late to parties, but never to class.” The students guffawed and snickered behind their hands. Whittlesworth gave them a stern look and the giggles ceased. “S-Sorry—I—” she attempted to explain when Whittlesworth raised his hand and interrupted her. “Never mind, Miss Shadows,” he said, drawing his attention back to writing notes on the blackboard. “Get out of those muddy shoes and put them in the hall. Then if you wouldn’t mind, do sit down so I may continue today’s lecture.” “Yes, sir. . .” Amber said dismally, turning on her heel. “Oh, and Miss Shadows . . . see me after class.” Whittlesworth added. Several students simultaneously said, “Oooooo . . .” “That’ll be quite enough of that.” Whittlesworth turned around and folded his arms, giving a stern look at the students. Instantly the students fell silent, and the only sounds disturbing the room were the sound of quills scratching notes and Whittlesworth’s voice, lecturing on the many uses of healing potions and their various concoctions. Amber did as she was instructed and found an open seat behind Jasper. She kept her eyes focused on the floor and pulled out her assignment, hoping her classmates would stop staring at her and pay attention to Professor Whittlesworth. Whittlesworth began calling on students to come to the blackboard. He wanted to see how many people memorized the various formations of ingredients to the Healacia Potion. Amber slouched down, cowering behind her hand from embarrassment. She sat hoping Whittlesworth wouldn’t call on her, since her mind was a bit preoccupied with the secret she’d been keeping, and the fact that she wasn’t looking forward to a lecture on punctuality and possibly a detention, especially today of all days. Several hours and scribbled notes later, the town hall belfry bonged 3:30. While a majority of the class headed home, there stood Amber at Whittlesworth’s desk, waiting for the worst to happen. Marianna and Jasper waited outside the classroom door, hoping to eavesdrop on Amber and Whittlesworth, but their plans were spoiled when he gestured for them to move along and stood waiting to close the door. They walked backwards smiling innocently, and turned on their heels to find their lockers. Whittlesworth closed the door with raised brow and headed back to his desk. Marianna and Jasper immediately dashed back to the classroom door and glued their ears to its wood near the bottom; hoping Whittlesworth wouldn’t open the door and catch them. “Miss Shadows,” Whittlesworth addressed Amber firmly, sitting down, “would you mind explaining why you were late for class?” “Professor, the truth is I was engrossed in the book I was reading,” she answered quickly, gazing at the floor. “I lost all track of time . . . I promise it won’t happen again.” “Amber, look at me . . . this is the tenth time you’ve given that same excuse.” “Yes, sir.” “I’m surprised at you,” he said, folding his hands on the desk. “Your being an avid writer and reader as such, I expected a more intelligent and original excuse. I must say I’m quite disappointed.” “Yes, sir, but as lame as you believe my excuse to be . . . it is the truth.” Whittlesworth nodded and grunted, “I do admire your honesty.” Laying his quill down and closing his textbooks, he looked her square in the eye. “Seeing as your grades are excellent, I’m willing to let you go with a warning. Ordinarily I would hand you an hour of detention, however, I seem to recall hearing Wentworth mention earlier to Silverton that today is your birthday. Mind you, this will be the last time I ever allow you to be late. Next time, I will have to give you a written punishment to be carried out in detention. You have to learn to prioritize your time, Shadows. Have I made myself perfectly clear?” “Yes, sir, very.” Amber nodded, relieved to be let off the hook. “Thank you, sir!” Amber hurriedly left his desk to retrieve her shoes just outside the classroom. When she opened the door, there laid a red-faced Marianna and gangly Jasper sprawled out on the floor, rubbing their heads. They got to their feet, grabbed their backpacks, and rushed to Amber’s side to find out what the head professor said to her. “Whittlesworth let you off, eh?” Jasper said, nudging Amber playfully in the arm. He tossed his curly blond hair from his face. “I see you two have obviously been eavesdropping again,” Amber said, unsurprised. “Us?” Jasper gestured to Marianna and himself. Both shook their heads. “Nah—couldn’t really hear what he was saying. Now if he had raised his voice, we could’ve heard a bit better.” “Actually, we kind of guessed by your smile that he let you off,” Marianna said, narrowing her dark brown, Asian eyes at Jasper. She shifted the weight of her backpack as they walked and pulled her straight black hair behind her ears. “Tenth time . . . huh?” Jasper gave Amber an impressed look and a crooked smile. “Have you really used that same excuse ten times?” “I thought you said you weren’t eavesdropping.” Amber grinned slightly, exchanging looks with Marianna. “Yeah, well, Marianna was the one eavesdropping!” Jasper gestured to Marianna as if he was innocent. Marianna’s mouth fell open. “I eavesdropped?” Marianna repeated, raising her brow, her hands on her hips. “You have some nerve, blaming it all on me!” “Well, you were,” Jasper said, raising his hazel eyes to the ceiling. “I was not!” Marianna snapped. “Oh, yes you were my little China doll.” Jasper smiled and averted eye contact with Marianna and Amber as they sauntered through the hallway. Marianna’s face of earth-tone colors turned to red with fury. Jasper was now getting on her last nerve. And as they continued arguing about who was guilty of eavesdropping, poor Amber attempted several times to get a word in edgewise. It seemed the two of them had forgotten that she was there and carried on arguing. “Maybe I was, but then again, so were you!” Marianna argued hotly. “Was not—I only heard a smidgen of the conversation, nothing worth mentioning—considering I couldn’t hear very well.” “Yeah, right—you were and—” “Will you two malady wannabes give it up?” Amber cupped her hands over their mouths and changed the conversation to what she had been dying to tell them all day. “I don’t care if either of you eavesdropped. But if Whittlesworth had caught you, neither of you would be coming over tonight for my birthday campout, and our plans would’ve been completely spoiled. Now, let’s hurry and get your things for tonight. I’ve loads to tell you about two secrets I discovered on Thursday night.” They hurried down the front stairs, down the winding road that led to Jasper’s house, then headed to Marianna’s house. All the while, Amber kept them in the dark about what she’d found for fear of eavesdroppers in the Wood along the road. “Jasper—Marianna—hurry up and come in,” Amber said excitedly, pulling them in by the arms. “They’re hidden in my room!” She stuck her head back out the door, glancing around the side of the house toward the back to see if Crystal and Willow were home yet. So far, so good, the driveway was desolate and thick with mud from the heavy rain. “The coast is clear, c’mon.” Amber gestured for them to hurry getting out of their raincoats. “C’mon already, they’ll be home any time now!” Jasper and Marianna dropped their overnight bags on the wooden floor just inside the front door, then slipped off their raincoats, throwing each over their bags as if they were nothing more than old rags. Wiping the rain from his face—seeing as he was the only one without an umbrella—Jasper followed Amber to her room with Marianna at his heels. I’ve two things I’ve been dying to show you,” Amber said excitedly, pulling the journals out from between the mattresses. “I came across these when I was in the attic looking for something to write my assignment on, for Whittlesworth.” Amber’s eyes lit up like fireworks as she held out the two journals. “So these are the secrets, eh?” Jasper asked, taking one of the books from Amber. “These are memoirs of my great-great grandmother, Jocelyn Shadows,” Amber said excitedly, rocking back and forth on the tips of her toes. Just as Jasper was about to thumb through the first journal, Amber yanked the journal out of his hand like a paper on fire, saying, “Not here, not now, later, when we’re alone in the tent.” Jasper and Marianna exchanged puzzled looks then stared at Amber as she quickly tucked the journals deep into the center of her sleeping bag. “I’ve been secretly reading the entries when my sister and brother are busy doing other things. You won’t believe the tragedy that’s written in these memoirs. And . . . if my intuition is correct, what Jocelyn wrote in these journals may very well aid me in finding my parents and grandparents.” Perplexed, Marianna stared at Amber as she went on and on about all she had read. Jasper decided to shift the conversation to the present. He glanced outside to check the weather, hoping to avoid discussions of whatever Amber was brewing in her brain. “Not to change the subject, seeing as it sounds incredible, to say the least, but we better get the tents set up. It looks like the rain has lightened up—it may be ending.” “Once we’re all set up in the tents, I can tell you more about how I want to use the journals.” Amber’s eyes gleamed in excitement. “And maybe you two can help me figure out what I should do next.” “Do next?” Marianna and Jasper exchanged taken-aback looks. “I know I can trust you both to keep my secret and help,” Amber said confidently, heading out of her room with her sleeping bag tucked under one arm. Marianna and Jasper looked at each other as though they had the same burning question on their minds: What could Amber possibly have meant by ‘helping her figure out what to do next’? Jasper nudged Marianna hard in the arm, mouthing for her to ask Amber exactly what she meant. And if by pure coincidence, it was what they were both thinking; he’d already decided to hightail it out of there before Amber persuaded him to stay and help. Not surprisingly, Marianna was planning on doing the same thing. They picked up their sleeping bags, raincoats, overnight bags, and followed Amber. “What do you mean by ‘help you figure out what to do next’?” Mariana asked, catching up to Amber just outside the back porch. “They’re just memoirs—right?” “Yeah, what could there possibly be to do?” Jasper called out to Amber, closing the back door. “Something is telling me Jocelyn wanted me—out of all the Shadows family members—to find her journals,” explained Amber astutely excited. “Hurry up, Jasp, let’s go!” Amber and Marianna headed toward the farthest end of the back yard and dropped their things. Jasper rolled his eyes, shifted the weight of his bags on his shoulder, and picked up the pace to catch up with the two girls. “And just what makes you think Jocelyn wanted you to be the one to find them?” he asked Amber point blank. “Who else would dare to use them?” Marianna and Jasper exchanged looks, thinking the same thing: Amber’s answer could only mean one thing—trouble.

“Jasper, don’t give me that look!”

“I am giving you this look, ‘cause throughout all the years Marianna and I have known you, every time you get excited about something, we wind up bailing you out of trouble!”

“First of all, to answer your question . . . I just know it, that’s all,” she retorted, folding her arms. “And secondly—if memory serves—I bailed out the two of you plenty times in return, Jasper.”

“Come on, you two, give it a rest,” Marianna intervened wanting to forget the whole conversation. She was in no hurry to find out what Amber was planning and was certain that arguing with Amber at this point, was a lost cause. She’d simply say “no” when the subject came up later. Dropping her bags, she changed the subject. “Where shall we set up our camping gear?”

“Under this oak tree is a good place as any,” Jasper grunted, tossing his sleeping bag and overnight duffle hard on the ground.

The three of them headed off to the back of the tool shed, picked up their camping gear, and began setting up the campsite. Amber and Marianna gathered armloads of thin branches and logs from the back porch, to a secluded place between the tents and the hundred-year-old oak tree. The gnarled oak stood vast with thick branches shading the backyard by several feet. Its millions of leaves rustled in the drizzling rain, sprinkling raindrops here and there as the overhead clouds hovered in the seven heavens. Just as Amber finished helping Marianna situate the logs for the campfire, the sound of tires on the front gravel driveway startled Amber. “That must be Crystal and Willow pulling in,” Marianna said, dusting the dirt off her jeans and hands. Amber got to her feet and was nearly halfway to the driveway when she turned on her heel and said in a low voice, “Now don’t forget—not one word about the journals to Crystal or Willow. If one of us slips up and says anything, they’ll take the journals away from me.” She saw the old car in the driveway and scrambled back into the house while her sister was unloading the trunk. Amber managed to slip into her room, collect a pillar candle, a plate to set it on, and matches she left on her bedside table earlier just as Crystal was placing groceries on the kitchen counter. She waited until her sister went back out to the car to slip through the house and out the back door unnoticed. The screen door slammed hard against the cracked doorframe as she ran down the porch steps to the tent. Tossing everything in the corner Amber sighed in relief. “Whew! That was too close!” “Amber, how come you don’t want your brother and sister to know you found Jocelyn’s journals?” Marianna asked, tossing her bags into the tent. “I mean, they were written by your great-great grandmother. It’s not like they’re forbidden Advanced Dark Magic spell books or secret Dark Magic potions ingredients to commit crime.” “I found the journals in a locked antique trunk,” Amber put simply while trying to catch her breath. “Obviously, they weren’t meant to be found—especially by me. The trunk looked like it hadn’t been open in centuries. And on the same night I found the journals, Crystal came up to see what I was doing. Her facial expression was a dead giveaway. She knew something forbidden was hidden up in that attic, I’m certain of it. She kept staring at Jocelyn’s trunk as though she wanted to check its contents on impulse.” “How do you know?” Marianna asked, struggling to unzip her sleeping bag. “Did you ask her?” “It was her strange behavior,” Amber replied softly. “And no, I didn’t. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I found these journals. But if Crystal or Willow ever found out I had them, they would take them away from me quicker than reciting a short spell—saying I was too young, and I shouldn’t go meddling where they feel I ought not to be.” Marianna’s face remained blank as she listened intently to Amber. Jasper finished setting up his tent, dusted off his ripped jeans and red flannel shirt, and checked the stakes in the ground. After double-checking the last stake, he walked over to Amber and Marianna, wiping his hands clean of the mud soiling his fingertips from the soggy ground. “Well, both tents are secure—the campfire’s going—now all we need are roasting sticks, marshmallows, and some refreshments for the cooler.” He wiped the sweat from his brow and took in a deep breath. “I’ll run in and get the marshmallows.” Amber gestured for them to follow her into the house. “Marianna, grab several waters. Jasper, fill up the cooler with ice, pop, and the waters Marianna brings out.” It was just like Amber to take charge of things. She had a natural-born leadership quality in her personality, and it made her popular at school among those who weren’t in cliques; however, Amber was one for taking chances, too, and she was planning something—something that worried Jasper and Marianna immensely. What bomb was she planning on dropping later that night in the tent? Crystal had just brought in the last bag of groceries when Amber burst in through the back door. “Crystal—you’re home!” Amber gasped trying to sound innocently surprised. She smiled weakly, twisting the belt loops on the back of her jeans. Jasper followed at Marianna’s heels, and no sooner did he step through the screen door, did it hit him hard in the caboose. He jumped up, unintentionally pushing Amber and Marianna forward into the counter. Turning a lovely shade of red from embarrassment, he slightly laughed, “Sorry . . .” He then nonchalantly rubbed his sore behind. “I trust the chores I gave you are all done?” Crystal asked curtly, busily putting away the last of the groceries. Amber said nothing and gestured for her to inspect the house. Glancing at Amber, Crystal placed her hands on her hips and walked around the house, expecting to find nothing done, as once before. To her surprise, Amber had done everything on the list and everything appeared to be as clean as a whistle; that is to say, at least at an eye’s glance, clean. “Well, off with the lot of you then.” Crystal waved her hand, dismissing Amber, Marianna, and Jasper. “We’re just getting what we need for the campout, and then we’ll be out of your hair for the night.” Amber rocked back and forth on the tips of her toes. Uncertain of what next to say, she turned to Jasper and Marianna and mentioned the weather. “Well, let’s grab what we need before we get caught in the downpour. It’s starting to drizzle out there.” Grabbing marshmallows, chips, and white fudge pretzels as an afterthought before closing the kitchen pantry, Amber nervously bit her lip, gathering everything they needed into a brown paper bag. From the corner of her eye, Amber could feel Crystal suspiciously watching her every move with folded arms. “Have a great time, and happy birthday sis,” Crystal said, still slightly suspicious of what her younger sister might possibly be up to. “Here’s the key to the back door so you guys can get in for whatever reason.” Amber tucked the key into her pocket and opened the fridge. She handed several water bottles and pop to Marianna, saying, “We shouldn’t be inside too much.” Shaking a finger, Crystal warned them, “Make sure you three don’t disturb me, I have two spell tests coming up next weekend, and I need to get a lot of studying done. Oh, just in case you’re wondering where Willow is, he’s still in town hanging out with his buddies from school, so don’t expect him home tonight. He said something about staying over at Denlock’s house to quiz each other, and that I should make certain you stay out of his room. Understand?” “Why would I ever have the need to go into his room?” Amber innocently smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “Besides, I have a lot of catching up to do with Marianna and Jasper since they got back from their holiday in the States.” Amber glanced back at Jasper and Marianna, trying desperately to hide her enthusiasm and eagerness to fly out the back door. She looked away and cleared her throat, composing her face to look semi-serious. “Come on, you two . . . let’s get back to the tents before the rain starts really coming down.” Crystal continually stared at her sister as the three of them turned to leave. She was nearly convinced her little sister was up to something. Then again, perhaps she was simply overreacting. She still hadn’t checked Jocelyn’s trunk to see if anything was missing, and at the moment, she hadn’t the time to head up into the attic to confirm her suspicions. So, rather than worry about something that may not be anything at all, Crystal went about her business, turned on the light in her room, and delved into her studies. Amber, Marianna, and Jasper dashed out the back door and piled into the tent. Jasper and Marianna settled and grabbed the snacks they wanted while Amber lit the pillar candle. She then began telling them all about how the Shadows Castle was covered with earth by Gondara’s curse, how Jocelyn’s parents were sent into oblivion, and how Jocelyn’s grandparents were turned to dust by Gondara. Most importantly, Amber told them about the two Emerald Wands of Chrysalis, one of which Mrs. Tuttles had to get back in order to reclaim her rightful place as Queen of the Faeries. “So that’s about all I’ve read.” Amber ended breathlessly. “That’s why I was late to Magia Sessions. I couldn’t tell Whittlesworth what I was really reading, so I told him I was engrossed in an interesting read and lost all track of time. I thought we could read more tonight and see what happens together.” She found where she had last left off, and tucked her hand inside the journal to hold her place. “Amber,” Marianna began, “maybe we shouldn’t be reading about things in the past that were meant to be kept secret.” She repetitively ran her fingertip through the candle flame, daring it to burn her fingertip. After several attempts (nearly getting burned by the later) she examined her fingertip. “Reading Jocelyn’s memoirs may cause unwanted turmoil.” “Marianna, reading these journals gives me insight as to what happened in the past, and they have answered a lot of questions concerning my family’s bout with Gondara over the centuries.” Amber argued, patting the cover gently. “Maybe I’ll even be able to find out where my parents are. There has to be a connection between their disappearance and these journals—I just know it!” “Are you certain your sister won’t come out here?” Jasper nervously glanced out the mesh tent window, toward the house. “Quit being such a worry wart!” Amber said thinking him ridiculous. “Crystal said she had two tests to study for. If I know my sister—and I like to think I do—her nose will be diligently buried in her studying until she falls asleep reading her books in bed. Now, where did I leave off . . . should be . . . right here. Jocelyn was trying to escape from Waterfall Castle, that’s the name of Lady Gondara’s castle. According to her entry, people called it the Castle of Dark Secrets.”

Chapter SevenThe Entries

T

he wind echoed in howling, eerie tunes—tunes that would make a person’s skin crawl so horribly, they’d want to run into the house, lock all the doors and windows, and hide under the bed. The trees swayed feverishly as hard and steadfast rain beat heavily against each branch. Rows and rows of rain pelted the vinyl tent as Amber began reading in a low voice: 1 September “We’ll have to hide and wait until she comes out,” said Mrs. Tuttles wearily. “If Gondara recites the Disappearing Door Spell loud enough for me to hear, I can figure out the spell to make it reappear.” As I looked around, the possibility of hiding was not as easily done as Mrs. Tuttles presumed. “There are no rooms to hide in,” I said, sitting down. “We’ll have to take our chances on Gondara seeing us.” “No,” Mrs. Tuttles said firmly. “I will stay behind. If she has the gift of seeing invisible people, then it’s best if I’m the one that gets caught. You go and hide where we were hidden earlier. You’re of no use to me if we both get caught.” Mrs. Tuttles aggressively pushed me back down the antechamber. Although Mrs. Tuttles hadn’t outwardly admitted it, I was positive she was terrified in not knowing the extent of Lady Gondara’s powers, one of which she feared the most, was the gift of seeing invisible people. After all, it made sense to assume Gondara would have the same gift as her. But as neither of us knew for certain, and as Mrs. Tuttles was insistent on my leaving her behind, I did as I was told. I quickly glimpsed at the night sky in one of the dungeon funnel windows before heading toward the room we had hid in earlier. Judging by the darkness of the sky, we only had two hours left until the invisibility pills wore off, and there was no way of knowing when Lady Gondara would emerge from the magically hidden room. I felt guilty leaving Mrs. Tuttles. I wanted to help, to do something useful, so I passed the place we hid in earlier, and searched the castle myself. I headed up the stairs, hoping my invisibility would protect me. While Lady Gondara was preoccupied with whatever it was she was doing, I had time to find something that would lead me to the wand, or my parents, whichever I came upon first. Mrs. Tuttles was adamant that we find the Silver Emerald Wand of Chrysalis first, because of its powers, but I had to see for myself if there were any hidden clues or diaries mentioning where Gondara held my parents and grandparents captive. I remembered her mentioning that it was a place only she knew of, when she sent my parents into a black hole, so when she made reference to oblivion, it had to be someplace she conjured up inside Waterfall Castle. I wandered through the antechamber until I came upon Lady Gondara’s library. Successfully slipping past the two guardsmen attending the front door to the keep, I found myself in a room with books on every possible type of magic, mostly Dark Magic. One book in particular Gondara had bookmarked and left open on a side table, was on how to defeat White Magic, a magic which I, and every Shadows family member, past, present, and future, practiced throughout the centuries. Although this came as no shock to me that she should have possession of such a book, I immediately grabbed hold of it and tossed it into the flames of the fireplace, hoping the fire would consume the secrets of our Heavenly White Magic power against Dark Magic. Such a book could ruin our existence and the existence of all those fighting evil. I wasn’t about to let her get the upper hand and destroy the good of the earth to satisfy her thirst for power over Magia, not to mention that her owning such a book would endanger every hidden Faerie Realm within the Bewitched Forest. I held no remorse in my heart for destroying the book of our White Magic secrets, and went about my business looking for anything that might lead me to my parents and grandparents. The circular room towered at least two stories high, with books stocked from floor to ceiling. In the back corner, left of the door, there stood a black cauldron over a magical fire on the floor. Various potions of every size and color sat waiting to be opened on the wooden tabletop beside it. Supplies of snakes, cat eyes, lizard tails, and roots, to name a few; were displayed along the wall on shelves made out of two half-cut oak trunks. A thick spell book rested on an old, black iron book holder, and a horrible stench brewed inside the black cauldron beside it. I hurried over to the spell book to see what page it lay open to. My eyes widened as I read the title of the spell Lady Gondara had underlined: How to Bewitch Faeries into Stone After reading the title of the spell, I read further with the realization that Lady Gondara was going to eradicate Mrs. Tuttles. I had to get back to her before Gondara captured her. Just then, I heard voices in the hall. On impulse I looked around the room for somewhere to hide, forgetting that I was invisible. My eyes fixated on a glistening emerald statue of Lady Gondara, placed on the right side of the arched entrance to the library. I thought this the perfect place to hide behind and quietly waited. My stomach clenched, my nerves pulsated. I was certain Gondara would be coming back into this room based on what I saw. Then my worst fear came true . . . I heard her voice. “See that I am not disturbed,” she delegated to the two guardsmen at her heels, strolling about regally in the library. “And close the drawbridge! I want guards stationed at every entrance to ensure this castle is protected from intruders!” The two guards bowed in obedience, then hoisted their spears up into the air. “Yes, my lady,” the guardsmen said simultaneously. I minded not to move and kept my breathing as quiet as possible. My mind wandered to the whereabouts of Mrs. Tuttles. Was she possibly still alive and searching for me somewhere in the castle? Taking a risk, I glanced around the statue to see what Lady Gondara was doing. She was magically twiddling her fingers over the horrible smelling brew within the cauldron, as though it were nothing to bother her intellect with. When she finished, she sat down in a dark wooden chair with purple velvet. On the table next to her was a silver goblet and svelte, crystal wine pitcher. She poured port and tapped her fingers on the wine goblet, her eyes slanted in evil thought. The clinking of bottle to goblet echoed throughout the room several times. All was silent except for the bubbling of the cauldron, as I waited several elusive moments to chance another glance around the statue. I swallowed hard and craned my neck around the statue to find Gondara’s eyes closed in slumber. Her fingertips hung lazily over the armrest, losing grip of the goblet. With an echoing clang, it hit the floor. Without a second thought, I retreated and waited, my heart pounding exceptionally fast. I was certain Gondara would wake up from its loud noise; however, to my great surprise, the Dark Sorceress simply rolled her head to the opposite side of her chair and remained undisturbed, sound asleep. Once I was certain she was in a deep sleep and only the bubbling of the brew overwhelmed the silence of the room, I stepped out from behind the statue. Amusingly, Lady Gondara began snoring, her face lazily facing the potions wall. I took it as my only chance to slip out of the library and tiptoed toward the entrance. Just as I approached the entrance, Gondara’s snore suddenly changed. I quickly ducked out of the room and hid against the antechamber wall next to a guard. Looking at his scaly skin made my skin crawl and my heart heavily pound. I glanced back into the room to see if Gondara was awake. To my relief, she was still fast asleep with her face now facing the corner of the statue I had been hiding behind. Her snoring became repetitive once more, and I left on my way, hurrying back to the dungeons to find Mrs. Tuttles. The antechambers were physically empty. The only thing moving were shadows of flickering flames burning within cressets along the stone walls. Guards stationed themselves throughout the main floor of the castle just as Gondara had ordered. I cautiously slipped past several, upon making my way down to the dungeons. I ran toward the steps leading to the magic door, hoping to find Mrs. Tuttles. When I did not find her upon my arrival, panic overwhelmed me. Retracing my steps, I checked each room, calling out in a strained whisper, “Mrs. Tuttles?” She didn’t answer. My worst fears were settling in. What should I do? Gondara must have done away with her. I never should have left her alone. Gondara must have known she was in the castle and used the spell I saw in the spell book, that’s the only explanation. I headed back to where the magic door was hidden and sat on the steps. As I leaned my head against the wall, a hand cupped my shoulder, startling me. A familiar voice whispered my name, “Jocelyn.” “Mrs. Tuttles!” I said, jumping up in surprise. “You’re alive!” “Shush! Do you want the guards, or worse, Lady Gondara to hear you? You’ll get us killed for sure!” hissed Mrs. Tuttles fretfully. She pushed me aside and dashed down the stairs to check the antechamber; then hurried back to me. “Where were you?” I asked, relieved Mrs. Tuttles was still alive. “I looked everywhere for you.” “I slipped into the magic room when Lady Gondara came out,” she replied. “Just when I was about to grab the wand, she came rushing back into the room to vanish the secret cove. I was so close! Gondara couldn’t see me, so the invisibility pills must work! Then again, I expect she had too much of the grape, by the look of her, holding a goblet in one hand and admiring the—well—anyway I saw the Silver Emerald Wand of Chrysalis. It’s in a glass case she has hidden in an adjoined secret room.” Mrs. Tuttles shook my shoulders excitedly. “Shouldn’t you’ve taken it?” I pulled her hands off my shoulders before she could shake me enough to disjoint my bones. “No, it’s best to wait until she’s sleeping,” she said as though she’d already thought the idea over. “I heard the spell she used to hide the wand, as well as I figured out what spell she used to open the secret entrance to the room at the top of the stairs.” Although Mrs. Tuttles was invisible, I could’ve sworn I caught an intermittent light of happiness glistening from her eyes. She repeated the spell in reverse under her breath with profound astuteness. “I can safely tell you, she’s sleeping in the library where she does her spells and incantations, very soundly,” I interrupted her, forgetting to explain how I knew this. “Hang on,” Mrs. Tuttles said curiously. “How is it you know she is sleeping at this very moment in the library? Come to think of it . . . where were you all this time that I was in the hidden room?” By the tone of her voice, something told me she wasn’t exactly happy with me at the moment. I stood silently, my thoughts occupied with coming up with an acceptable explanation. The only problem was, no matter what I gave as an answer, Mrs. Tuttles was certain to be very upset, indeed. Mrs. Tuttles began tapping her toe impatiently, waiting for my explanation. “Well, I . . . um . . . I . . . I was looking for some clues as to where she may have imprisoned my parents—but I was extremely cautious—I swear it!” I said quickly, afraid that I was going to be thoroughly scolded for not doing as I was told. My throat tightened, yet I continued. “I also happened to see a spell book in Gondara’s library—it was open to a spell—a spell that did away with faeries.” Mrs. Tuttles became very cross indeed. She started muttering to herself how I could’ve been caught and put us both in danger. Her footsteps padded the stone floor as if she was quite upset with me. And as hard as I tried, nothing came to mind of what to say in hopes of softening her perspective of me. I looked down at where my feet would’ve been (had I not been invisible), and regretted telling her about my wandering into Lady Gondara’s library. Some things should be left unsaid. “I’m sorry,” I apologized hoping she’d get over her anger soon. “I promise I won’t wander off again!” I suppose If it had been me in Mrs. Tuttles’ place, I most likely would’ve locked me away in a small box and magically tucked it away for safekeeping. Closing my eyes, I crossed my fingers, waiting for her to say something. “Just as long as you keep your promise, we’ll be fine,” Mrs. Tuttles warned me in a displeased manner, “but I had better not catch you wandering off again. We need to get my wand and find your parents without interference from Lady Gondara! And that will be most difficult to do should you get us caught!” Her footsteps echoed up the stone steps toward the wall where the secret passage was hidden. Faerie dust suddenly appeared as Mrs. Tuttles recited the spell, revealing the hidden door. “Appeariacia hiddonis entrancia!” Suddenly, the outline of a door vividly appeared and the gold faerie dust fell to the stone floor. It was only a matter of seconds before we heard a deadbolt unlock—the magic door had opened. I glanced around the corner to see if anyone was coming. Not a soul was around. “Let’s go!” I said, nervously nudging Mrs. Tuttles. “What are we waiting for?” “I worry that this may be a trap,” Mrs. Tuttles muttered wearily. “However, I need that wand in order to save my betrothed and your parents.” I sensed the worry in her voice and followed behind. We had come too far to turn back now. Cautiously checking over my shoulder, I kept watch for Gondara. Mrs. Tuttles took my hand and we stepped into the secret room. The room was filled with tables and shelves of crystal balls, display cases of glass stones in every color, swords, faerie dolls with pins in them, Voodoo magic spells written beneath each faerie for different kinds of suffering, and frightful statues of dragons devouring knights. The floor was elaborately detailed in black and white marble, the walls encompassed the room in a perfect sphere, and a crystal chandelier with lit candles hung on the ceiling, casting flickering shadows upon the walls. Mrs. Tuttles and I unlocked hands, and strolled about the room separately. “Where did you see the wand?” I asked absentmindedly, a bit distracted by the amazement of all the beauty and weirdness that surrounded me. “Over there—behind that display case with crystals,” Mrs. Tuttles replied. I followed her footsteps and turned to my right. There stood a wooden case displaying the sharpest, clearest crystals of various shapes and sizes, one being a serpent scepter cradled in black velvet. “Was there any special words to say, or stones to press to open the passage?” I asked Mrs. Tuttles. Shaking my hands at my sides haphazardly, I was anxious to open the case immediately, fearing Gondara would catch us in the act. Mrs. Tuttles mumbled under her breath. “Sweeping willows and faerie wings—what were those words?” She padded the floor, questioning her memory. “Aha! Yes, now I remember! Lady Gondara waved her hands and chanted three times: ‘Reveal your hidden treasure for my secret pleasure.’” Mrs. Tuttles chanted Gondara’s spell three times. Holding her arm out in front of me, she pushed me backwards, away from the wooden case as it moved to one side. Two sets of twelve stones vaporized, revealing an arched cove. The Silver Emerald Wand of Chrysalis was wrapped in green velvet, glistening brilliantly in silver glitter. Mrs. Tuttles was just about to grab the wand when the invisibility pills started to wear off, distracting her attention. Slowly, we both appeared from head to toe. I knew this couldn’t end in our best interest. “What are we going to do now?” I asked, panicking. Before Mrs. Tuttles could answer my question, the magic door appeared. Lady Gondara was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and two guardsmen at her side. I stood stricken with fear. Mrs. Tuttles held on tightly to the wand, slowly turning to face her adversary. “So . . . you’ve come for the wand,” Lady Gondara slurred, daggering an evil eye at Mrs. Tuttles. “Do you honestly believe I would let you come into my castle, and simply take the very thing I searched for relentlessly? How stupid do you take me for?” She strode up to me and perused me from head to toe, as if I were nothing more than a replaceable peasant, unworthy of her presence. This was it. We were done for, and there was no way to escape. My nerves twisted into knots inside my stomach. Could this really be the end? Was I going to join my parents in oblivion, or worse, end up like my grandparents: dead by my insides rotting until I was nothing more than dust? This wretch of a witch took my family and now she was about to round on me. I looked around the room feverishly while standing my ground, waiting for the threats of death to lash me. Mrs. Tuttles scowled at Gondara, refusing to surrender the Silver Emerald Wand of Chrysalis. “Seize them!” Lady Gondara roared, with eyes lit up in evil conquest watching the two guardsmen grab at our flailing arms. “Throw them into one of the dungeon chambers until I decide their fate!” After a slight struggle, Gondara grabbed the wand away from Mrs. Tuttles and placed the wand back into the secret cove. Moments later, we found ourselves in a dark, dingy room with chains and shackles on the walls and stone floor. The only light available was that of the flaming cresset lit in the antechamber. The guards chained my flailing legs and hands together, as Mrs. Tuttles pulled at the chains that bound her to the wall. If we were to survive, I knew we had to find a way to escape, and it had to be soon. “Well, now what’ll we do?” I asked. “You’re chained to the wall, my hands and feet are bound infallibly, and Gondara still has the Silver Emerald Wand of Chrysalis! ‘We have to find the wand first…we have to find the wand first’. Why couldn’t you have listened to me about finding my parents first? Now we’ll be left here for dead, or killed just the same. If I ever get out of here—and I assure you I shall—I’m going to search for my parents and avenge my grandparents. And I’ll do it with no help from the likes of you!” “I know you’re upset,” retorted Mrs. Tuttles calmly, “but that wand is the only thing we need to find your parents and gain me back my rightful place as Queen of the Faeries.” Her eyes welled up in tears as she muttered to herself how everything was all her fault. “If only I’d followed my own council, but no, I couldn’t stand up to that shrew . . . had to play the coward.” Now it appeared she was angry at herself and talking to herself. Little by little, I began to feel sorry for her. In thinking it over a bit more, she did try her best to keep us safe from Gondara. And now, here I was blaming her and feeling guilty for scolding her. I still felt justifiable in my anger as I stared down at my chained hands and feet, but not at Mrs. Tuttles. The images of my grandparents being turned into dust, and witnessing my parents being thrown into a black hole, infuriated me beyond any future measure of pain I was to soon endure. I glanced at the chains firmly bound around my hands. My first thought was to pull apart the rusty shackles. Unfortunately, attempting this only resulted in cutting off my circulation. Uncertain if I should persist, I pulled again, harder. I soon began regretting my tenacity as blood trickled down my hand. I had to make a choice: either continue injuring my hand to break free, or continue to sit there and wait for my imminent death. “You’ll never get those chains off without hurting yourself,” cried Mrs. Tuttles pessimistically, her eyes swollen and red from crying nonstop since I mocked her. “I have to keep trying! If I don’t, we shall either die of hunger or worse, by Lady Gondara’s curse,” I said, struggling to pull my left arm free. “Lady Gondara would like nothing better than to see your position as Queen of the Faeries diminish. Or have you forgotten she’s planning on using that spell I saw in her library? The one spell that makes certain she succeeds in overthrowing you . . . And let us not forget her plans to do away with me as well. If you want to give up, then it’s your choice, however, I simply refuse to wait around until she has decided my fate!” Mrs. Tuttles said nothing, but sniffled. My left hand was now halfway through the hold of the chains as I bled uncontrollably. My determination was anything but weak. I wasn’t about to die at the hands of the witch who took my family away. I would have my revenge, if it was the last thing I ever did before my death. This was the solemn promise I made to myself. Amber stopped reading the entry, and all three exchanged looks of frozen disgust. None of them knew what to say. Neither Jasper nor Marianna realized the consequences of letting Amber read to them Jocelyn’s memoirs, but curiosity led them by their noses. Their thirst to hear more simply wasn’t quelled, and as the three of them sat in silence, Amber managed to convince herself that it was up to her to find her missing family.

Chapter EightThe Blood-Written Entry

T

he glint shining in Amber’s eye was all Marianna and Jasper had to see to know what was going to happen next. It wasn’t the first time she’d ever sat quietly, keeping her thoughts private as she thought over her plans. And somehow, in some way, the two of them just knew she was going to involve them in whatever it was she planned to do. Uncertain of whether they should sit quietly waiting for Amber to continue reading the memoirs, Marianna cleared her throat, and said, “Did Jocelyn write any more entries, or was that all she wrote?” Amber only heard half of Marianna’s question. Her mind was preoccupied with all the things she’d need for the quest she was planning; things such as: how many days would she be gone; what provisions would she need, and how much would she need to survive the journey; and most importantly, could she survive the dangers she was certain to come across . . . namely Lady Gondara. Gazing into space without blinking, Amber absentmindedly said, “Huh, oh yeah, there’s loads more written.” Pushing her thoughts to the back of her brain, she picked up the journal, reading aloud: Night crept in—a hungry stranger waiting to swallow the assumed dead. Mrs. Tuttles had fallen asleep, and I had finally freed my bleeding hand. Feeling faint by the amount of blood I had lost, I turned my head to the outside wall of the dungeon. I noticed in the corner a huge black spider, weaving a massive, silk web just above several loose stones. I stretched to reach them, but couldn’t. The chains on my right hand prevented me from reaching any further. If only I could have reached them, they were just beyond my fingertips. Just then, I heard the padding of heavy footsteps outside our chamber. A guard stood watch outside our door making certain we wouldn’t escape. I was just drifting to sleep, when suddenly, something sharp and furry ran across my feet. “What was that?” I shrieked, pulling in my feet close to me, unintentionally giving Mrs. Tuttles a rude awakening. “What was what?” Mrs. Tuttles said, jerking her head upwards. “Something ran across the floor—across my feet!” I tucked my feet under me, and pressed my body against the wall. “You must’ve dreamt it.” Mrs. Tuttles said lazily after remembering where she was. She closed her eyes, moving her head lazily from side to side. “Fiddlesticks!” I panicked. The fury creature ran past me yet again, this time, brushing against my knees. Luckily, I caught a glimpse of the little creature in the light coming from the antechamber. A little white mouse scurried back toward me, sat up on its hind legs, and twitched its whiskers. “Keep it down in there!” snarled the guard, pounding on the door as he peered in through the iron-barred window. I looked up briefly at the door then drew my attention back to the white mouse. It blinked its red eyes at me, and held its head tilted to one side. It appeared to be befuddled by my predicament. “Why are you staring at me?” I asked curiously. “I’m not your next meal, so don’t get any ideas!” “Why are you afraid of me?” asked the mouse. It blinked its eyes several times and tilted its head to the opposite side, waiting patiently for an answer. “Y-You can talk?” I sat in shock. Turning away I muttered to myself, “This is new—” “Of course I can talk, whatever made you think that mice couldn’t talk?” the mouse said curtly as though it were perfectly normal for mice to have the ability to talk. I couldn’t help feeling insulted by the mouse’s cheeky attitude. I stared hard at the creature briefly, then slightly laughed sarcastically, “Pardon me, but I’ve never talked to, or ever heard of, a mouse that could talk, at least . . . not in my language.” “Why are you chained?” the mouse asked, scurrying back and forth, all the while twitching its whiskers and staring at my shackles. I thought my situation quite apparent and her curiosity ignorant, but It was difficult keeping my wits about me. Then I wondered if I was hallucinating from losing too much blood. “Before I answer you, if you don’t mind my asking, what is your name?” I said feeling faint. “My name is Mrs. Tidbits, an unfortunate slave of Lady Gondara,” the mouse replied. “She turned me into a mouse when I served her and her guests a dinner that was not up to her expectations.” “So I’m not hallucinating?” I said, feeling tremendously lightheaded. My eyes felt as though they were about to pop from their sockets. “I am a magical dwarf, young maiden,” Mrs. Tidbits said formidably. “I can help free you, so long as I know you are not a threat to me or my family. Are you a threat?” Thinking better of my attitude, I said, “I beg of you, please . . . please help free me!” At this point, the mouse simply stared at me waiting for my answer, but being so desperately close to passing out, nothing came to mind. Then I decided to place my life in her paws and trust her, so I assured her, “I have no intention of harming you or your family. I’m a White Magic witch and a Magian by birth. I was locked up by Gondara when she caught Mrs. Tuttles and me taking the Silver Emerald Wand of Chrysalis. It rightfully belongs to Mrs. Tuttles over there—chained to the wall. She’s the rightful Queen of the Faeries. Gondara stole the wand from her to maintain control over the Magians. Look . . . it’s a long story, I can fill you in once we get out of here, but right now I really need your help. Please.” I started to feel like a fool and wondered if I sounded too pitiful and desperate. What if she was a spy just checking up on us for Lady Gondara? Still indecisive, I told myself my intuition had to be trusted. After all, I had nothing to lose; that is to say . . . except for my life. I could tell Mrs. Tidbits was mulling it over for a moment as she empathetically blinked her eyes at me. Surely Gondara was punishing her for a ridiculous thing such as serving her a poorly prepared dinner. It was common knowledge in Magia, that her disposition was most spiteful toward others unwilling to bow to her every command, or whimsical fancy. Nevertheless, the idea that Gondara might be using Mrs. Tidbits to find out our plans before deciding our fate kept gnawing at me. But just as all this was running through my mind, Mrs. Tidbits scurried over to Mrs. Tuttles. Looking back and forth between us, the mouse blinked her eyes in a compassionate sort of way, then turned, sat upright on her hind legs, and scurried back toward me. A tear fell from Mrs. Tidbits’ eyes as she bowed to me, saying, “I will help you. Lady Gondara will be checking on the two of you at sunrise. I overheard her talking to two of her guardsmen. She has every intention of torturing your friend Mrs. Tuttles . . . she wants reign over the faeries of the Bewitched Forest, as you have already confirmed.” Mrs. Tidbits scurried over to the corner where the black spider I watched earlier was finishing her silk web. “Pardon me, Mrs. Spinspider,” Mrs. Tidbits inquired politely, bowing her head and joining her hands together properly. “If it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition, may I borrow a stone from under your web? I do not wish to disturb you or your work . . . however, this is most urgent. I must help these two ladies escape. Gondara is due to visit them at sunrise.” Mrs. Spinspider graciously answered, “Mrs. Tidbits, of course you may have a stone. Take all, if you’d like. They are rather . . . shall I say . . . in my way. I do not have the ability to move them, and my children will be hatching any day now. It would be most appreciated if you could take one or two of the stones away to give my children room.” Mrs. Tidbits bowed again and squeaked an incantation in melodic form to remove the stones and magically land them next to me. I watched as three odd-shaped stones floated in midair, as if cradled by an invisible hand. Mrs. Tidbits ran over to the chamber door, squeezed under it to see if the guardsman was still around, and returned a short bit later, assuring me that the antechamber of the dungeons was empty. “Lady Gondara just ordered the guardsman to check on the underground entrances to the castle. Then I followed her up to the main level of the castle where she ordered an early breakfast.” After receiving this bit of news, I picked the sharper of the three stones and began hitting the chains to break their rusty hold upon my wrist and ankles. Finally, the shackles broke, and I rushed to Mrs. Tuttles who had begun to hum a most unpleasant tune. “Oh, do quit humming that dreadful song!” I said in trepidation. It was bad enough she hummed the song out of tune, but to make matters worse, its depressing melody made my stomach churn, not to mention I was in no mood to hear such a daunting melody when pressed for time. “I thought it was most fitting for the occasion, seeing as Gondara will be here any moment,” said Mrs. Tuttles disheartened. “Look . . . the sun is beginning to rise.” I noticed the sunlight streaming through the immense, funneled window. The sun was on its way to deliver a day of either freedom or death where our lives were concerned, and there wasn’t time to waste. I hurriedly smashed at the chains binding Mrs. Tuttles. It took every last bit of strength I had after losing so much blood. “Mrs. Tuttles, we’re too close to escaping from Gondara,” I said unsympathetically trying to change Mrs. Tuttles’ attitude. “We have to work together if we’re going to survive, and Mrs. Tidbits has been gracious enough to help free us. Are you going to wallow in self pity or put up a fight?” I had, had just about enough of the feeling-sorry-for-herself bit, and wanted Mrs. Tuttles to get a hold of herself and make an effort to help fight. She looked at me in shock, as if I were a wild animal seething with rabies. “Well . . . are you going to help figure a way out of here, or stand there and wait for death to steal your last breath?” I held my injured wrist and waited for her to say something. When she didn’t, I continued to hit the chains in an effort to free her. Giving me a look of I-don’t-really-care-anymore, Mrs. Tuttles turned away, as though she’d lost all hope. I was now very adamant about escaping alive, and I believed we had every chance in the world, so long as we acted straightaway and didn’t dawdle. However, I couldn’t do it alone, and convincing Mrs. Tuttles was another matter altogether. I needed her to use what little magic she had left to free us from the dungeon, before Gondara returned to torture us, or worse, end our lives. Unfortunately, Mrs. Tuttles wasn’t exactly instilling my faith in her helping our escape plans move along. After several hits, the rusty chains gradually broke into bits and pieces. Mrs. Tuttles rubbed her wrists, sharply turned around, and dashed to the funnel window to see if the sun had fully risen. Her brows furrowed in anger as she grabbed my injured hand and muttered an incantation under her breath. It is my understanding that in all the time she said nothing, she was indeed thinking of something, and that something, was her changing her mind about giving up. Mrs. Tuttles held my injured hand firmly, causing my thoughts to turn from our escaping to that of excruciating pain. Of the two hands she had to grab, why did she have to grab my bleeding hand? The pain was so intense I could not hear her recite the Disappearing Incantation. I was too busy dancing around, biting my bottom lip, and struggling to keep quiet. I was certain she didn’t mean to hurt me, but by the way she grabbed my hand, I realized she had finally come to her senses, finding a reason to go on. I bent down and scooped up Mrs. Tidbits into my other hand, holding her close to my body as we disappeared magically from the dungeon, and then reappeared in the Bewitched Forest. We weren’t very far from Waterfall Castle when Lady Gondara’s voice bellowed loud enough to shake the Wood. “NOOOOOO!” Lady Gondara roared furiously. Birds flittered every which way, and beasts fled for cover as Lady Gondara’s rage filled the air upon finding us gone. Her words echoed throughout the Bewitched Forest, startling us out of our wits. “FIND THEM, FOOLS! BRING THEM BACK TO ME IN The Throne Room! THEY CAN’T HAVE GOTTEN VERY FAR!” Morning was bearing down brilliantly on the Bewitched Forest, as if to wake it from its slumber and all who slept. All, that is to say, except for Mrs. Tuttles, Mrs. Tidbits, Mystasia, and of course, myself. We ran as far as we could and remained hidden in the underbrush until well after sunset. The wind chilled us to the bone, our stomachs growled in hunger, and the common thought between us was uncertainty of what we should do to get the Silver Emerald Wand of Chrysalis back. I was completely disillusioned by the pitiful ideas running through my head. Each one concerned the rescue of my parents, not the Emerald Wand of Chrysalis. At the same time, I felt a failure and a coward, even though we successfully made it out of Waterfall Castle. Our quest had been nothing more than pointless, dangerous, and disastrous to say the least. We accomplished nothing worth mentioning except for the fact that we made Gondara even more intent on guarding the Silver Emerald Wand of Chrysalis, and even more so, diligent in making certain we would suffer a most horrid death should she ever find us again. “What shall we do now?” I asked the others for the umpteenth time. “We don’t dare go back to Waterfall Castle. Lady Gondara will have us killed on first sight.” As I stared at the ground, tossing pebbles to see how far they would land, Mystasia flew overhead and landed on a nearby branch, waiting for Mrs. Tuttles to give her orders. Just then, galloping hooves drew closer and closer. I stood up in a jolt, my heart beating fast, my eyes fully opened and fixated on the guardsmen on horses encircling us like wild prey. Then my nightmare began all over again. There I stood, dreading the worst as I came eye to eye with Lady Gondara. Her black eyes glinted of hatred and evil beyond anything I had ever laid eyes on before. Her lips of devil-red curled as she slowly approached me. Her thoughts I could easily read; she wanted me dead. I closed my eyes, waiting for death by torture, just as my father once did on the night he and my mother were sent into Gondara’s conjured up oblivion; however, she didn’t kill me instantly as I assumed she would. Rather, she paced back in forth; daggering looks of hatred at me every chance she got. “I just figured out who you are . . . Maiden Jocelyn Shadows . . . are you not?” Lady Gondara smirked, pronouncing every syllable perfectly clear and sober. She tapped her serpent scepter repetitively in her hand, pacing back and forth in front of me. “Did you honestly think I would let you live, knowing full well that I killed your grandparents for my . . . shall we say . . . amusement? And let us not forget your poor, poor parents . . . they were pathetic thieves . . . stealing my Golden Emerald Wands of Chrysalis! How could they ever think they’d get away with it after stealing it from me, the greatest Sorceress of the Dark Magic World?” roared Lady Gondara wickedly, as she spun around in pompous glory. Thunder rumbled and lightning pierced the sky at her mentioning these words. I, myself believed it wasn’t truly a question. She just wanted to make certain I understood how powerful she truly was, and without a doubt, I was certain she could prove it. The Bewitched Forest swayed wildly as Lady Gondara raised her hands to the dismal sky. Creatures fled for shelter as if it were the end of the world. Even I, trembling on the inside, watching all the fear stirring around me, believed it a possibility; however, my anger and hatred for this pathetic, power-hungry sorceress was greater than any fear surging through my veins. My courage remained intact, and before I could realize what I was saying, my anger burst into the wind for all the Wood and those around me to hear. “You dare to speak of my parents as such! You are nothing more than a horrid, repulsive excuse for a sorceress!” My bravery heightened and continued into the next set of words falling from my lips. Once again, my emotions took over and I screamed, “You’re nothing more than a weak old fool who kills innocent people based on belief of your own pathetic lies! If it takes me the rest of my life, I will see that you suffer the rest of your miserable days, so help me God, upon the graves of my unjustly killed family!” Lady Gondara had had her back turned toward me the entire time I lashed out at her. It wasn’t until my last word that she swung around, stormed up to me, and stood eye to eye with wretched hatred festooning upon her face. She then slapped me as hard as she could; knocking me to the ground. Heat rushed through my cheek. The sting of her evil hand burned me, leaving a red imprint. It was inevitable; my words of outrage sentenced me to death. My insides writhed and I stood shaking nervously on the inside, yet I portrayed myself to be in complete control on the outside. Gondara stormed away, leaving orders with her guardsman to make certain I suffered severely for my insubordination. I cautiously glanced over my shoulders to see where Mrs. Tuttles, Mrs. Tidbits, and Mystasia were hiding, so as to not draw attention to what I was doing. If the guards had noticed my concern, they were most assuredly going to grill me as to the whereabouts of my friends. Glancing up I caught sight of Mystasia. She had flown up into the highest branch of the cypress tree behind me, perching as still as a statue. Mrs. Tidbits drew my attention to where she found refuge in a hole, just under the tree roots below me, and Mrs. Tuttles had completely vanished. Betrayal and abandonment settled in my brain, my legs eager to run; nevertheless, I knew that if I dared move, Gondara would kill me on the spot without any remorse. Not that she would’ve had any to begin with, but why make matters worse than they already were? I had no way of protecting myself as tears of anger welled up in my eyes searching for her. Lady Gondara turned on her heel and strolled up to me with guards in tow. I was certain my near future would end in death. “Take Maiden Shadows back to Waterfall Castle,” Lady Gondara ordered, glaring at me in impious amusement as two guards stood behind me. “I shall deal with her later. And spread out to search for that pipsqueak of a faerie called Mrs. Tuttles! Bring her back alive. And ah, yes . . . find Mrs. Tidbits . . . she resembles a mouse now. I shall teach her further to defy me! She obviously prefers being a mouse, or she wouldn’t have helped these peasants escape!” “Yes, my ladyship,” the guardsmen bowed. Lady Gondara disappeared in a storm of purple vapors, leaving the guardsmen to their orders. I knew she was a powerful sorceress, but how on earth did she know every detail? How could she have possibly known Mrs. Tidbits helped us escape? The sky suddenly turned threatening, swallowing any hope of the brilliant morning sun’s return. The cypress and oaks swayed in fury as an unbearable chill blew wickedly throughout the black Wood. Two guardsmen grabbed and led me toward one of the horses carrying an abrasive rope. My life was about to undergo torment and pain, possibly even death, yet I couldn’t help worrying about Mystasia. Lady Gondara must not have known about her helping us or she would’ve ordered her men to seek and kill her on first sight as well. The ignorance of chivalry toward me was the least of my worries, as I trudged down the path back to Waterfall Castle. I was tethered to a brute of an unclean man with a face full of scars. Death would have been better than being dragged alongside a filthy, black horse whose tail consistently whipped me in the face. It came to my understanding this wretched guardsman knew nothing of how to properly treat a young lady. Falling several times, I cursed the guard under my breath. He tugged on my wrists to get up and keep moving. All the while I wondered what to expect upon arrival at Waterfall Castle. No matter how harsh the torture, I refused to die without a fight. Upon reaching the blackened castle I dropped to my knees in pure exhaustion. My hunger had passed, yet my stomach obstinately ached from food deprivation. My skin of pale color trembled from the cold rain washing over me. My mud-ridden feet ached unbearably as two guardsmen dragged me over the drawbridge of the castle, dismounted, and dragged me up the winding stone stairwell by force of hand. At the top, they pushed me into an old, dark tower that apparently had been disintegrating for quite some time. Silk cobwebs and thick furry spiders set up house in corners of the arched window overlooking the Bewitched Forest, and in several places on the cathedral ceiling. There was no furniture whatsoever to sleep or rest upon. Curling up in a corner, I laid my weary head against the wall as the guardsmen slammed and locked the arched door holding me captive. Tears streaked down, through the dirt on my face as flaming silhouettes danced on the tower walls from the wrought iron cresset. I began to drift off to sleep, not a comfortable one mind you, but at least I was able to rest until Lady Gondara decided my fate. My dream was that of my body soaring free above the castle, my wings expanding and cradling the wind. I sought my revenge, swooping down upon Lady Gondara to attack her. In return, she shot a spell at me with one of the Emerald Wands of Chrysalis. I felt a blazing jolt course through my feathered body of white and descended until I woke in a start. The storm slowly faded, and the song of crickets rose from the ground below. I surveyed my whereabouts, still drowsy from my slumber. I thought it odd that Gondara hadn’t paid me a final visit, seeing as I was still alive. I pulled myself off the dirt-ridden, stone floor, and weakly carried myself over to the spider-infested window. Rusted iron chains restricted me as I looked toward the Bewitched Forest. The downpour obscured my vision. The wind remained formidably tenacious. From what I could see, the guardsmen were still searching for my friends. It amazed me they were still following Gondara’s orders in this pitiful weather. Then again, it was my recent understanding of Gondara’s temperament, that compelled me to believe looking for Mrs. Tidbits, must have been like looking for a needle in a haystack, but it was better to follow orders than suffer a painful death. Mrs. Tuttles, on the other hand, had very little chance of survival, unless she had enough invisibility pills to keep herself invisible until the search was called off. I tried to convince myself she was out there waiting for the right moment to rescue me, and get back the Silver Emerald Wand of Chrysalis at the same time. Yet, I my instincts told me she simply abandoned me to save her own wings, and my hopes of her returning for me were nothing more than wishful thinking. Thinking more of it, it was inevitable that Lady Gondara would punish the poor fools if they came back empty-handed. Nevertheless, I turned away. It was none of my concern. They were nothing to me after the ill-mannered way I was treated. I shifted my thoughts to worrying about Mystasia. Why, I don’t know; Lady Gondara wasn’t even aware of her involvement in trying to retrieve the Emerald Wands of Chrysalis. At least . . . so I thought. I prayed with conviction that my feathered friend was alive, unhurt, and that I would soon see her again, if only for a fleeting moment to say good-bye. I was about to drift off to sleep again when suddenly, standing before me in a cloud of purple vapor, Lady Gondara appeared. “I’ve decided your fate,” she said in a rather evil, enthusiastic tone. “Rather than waste perfectly good magic on the likes of you, you shall remain in this tower until such time as you’ve starved to death. I shall then have the pleasure of watching the guards feed your flesh and bones to the crocodiles. Your blood I can make use of in one of my potions.” Lady Gondara smiled malevolently as she strolled about. “You are of no importance to me—only Mrs. Tuttles. Once I have her captured, she shall die the most formidable death possible a faerie could ever endure. Her powers shall then become mine, and not even your Mystasia will be able to rescue you.” Gondara turned and nodded her head in assurance, sneering at me as though she was beyond brilliant. “You thought I overlooked her part in your little plan to steal the Emerald Wands of Chrysalis, didn’t you?” She gave a slight laugh, swung around, knelt down to my level, and in a silky voice threatened me further. “Remember this . . . nothing . . . I repeat . . . nothing gets past me. This is my world, and there’s nothing you or anyone else can do about it. Oh, and don’t worry about Mystasia. Once caught, she’ll make quite a sinfully delectable dish to feed to my guests. Good-bye and good riddance!” Lady Gondara bolted straight up, raised her hands, and instantly vanished. Tears cascaded down my face, not for my own life, but for the fate of my owl friend. “What a vicious witch!” Marianna folded her arms and shook her head as though she couldn’t believe anyone could be so cruel. “Is there any truth to anything you’ve read so far, or is there a chance your great-great grandmother was known for storytelling?” Jasper asked, opening a bag of chips and a can of soda. He found this all a little too hard to swallow and secretly hoped the journal entry was just a tall tale. “As far as I know, everything written in these journals is true,” Amber replied. “I remember hearing my parents talk about Jocelyn a few times to Crystal and Willow, when they thought I was asleep. She really had a difficult life. When she was held captive in Waterfall Castle, she met a guard that was kind to her and tended to her wounds after she’d been dragged behind the horse we just read about. They fell in love and shortly thereafter, he helped her escape.” “Does the journal say anything more about the guard she loved?” Marianna inquired, scooting closer to Amber to catch a glimpse of more details. She loved stories of romance. “Let me look.” Amber thumbed through several of the pages. “Aha! She wrote about his visits. Listen . . .” 16 November The days are getting more difficult . . . hunger weakens me. I have nothing to occupy my thoughts except to stare out the window, in hopes of seeing my true love once more. My heart longs to see his bold face, his hazel eyes, his long, dark brown hair caressing my hands as he bids me kindness and addresses me with loving words. I believe Sir Eric to be the man I shall someday marry, providing I am able to escape my undesired fate of starvation in isolation. He washes my face tenderly with fresh water and flowers every morning. He escorts me round the room hand in hand, keeping my muscles alive. He quells my hunger and thirst with bread, fruit, and water when Lady Gondara is absent from the keep, which isn’t often enough for either of us. At nightfall, he visits me when everyone is asleep, depriving himself of slumber after a hard days’ work, just to keep me warm and quell my loneliness with conversation. He releases my hands of these rusted shackles, so I may write my thoughts in this journal. How I wish we could leave this place and openly love each other as man and wife. ’Tis sad but true, Lady Gondara would kill him upon discovering our love affair, and his betrayal to his allegiance. He has poured his heart out; speaking treason against Gondara and her wickedness. Tonight we shall make plans to uphold our future together, so we may be free of her terrifying reign. “No way—” Marianna’s mouth fell open in awe. “What an awesome love affair!” Amber nodded. Jasper munched on chips as though he was listening intently to a murder mystery radio show. “He was deeply in love with her and truly hated Lady Gondara. But it didn’t happen until he heard her crying up in the turret. Before he knew Jocelyn, he was loyal to Gondara. It was only after seeing what she ordered the guards to do to Jocelyn, treating her as they did, that he realized she was a monster and he wanted out of his allegiance.” “So what happened to them?” Jasper muffled, his mouth so overloaded with chips that when he talked, pieces flew out here and there on the tent floor. He took a quick gulp of soda waiting for the plot to thicken, and folded his arms as though he had, had quite enough of the salty chips he snacked on. Amber scanned her finger down the next entry, and remembering conversations she accidentally eavesdropped on when her parents thought she was in bed, said, “Well, from the bits and pieces I’ve overheard, and in further reading this passage, Sir Eric helped Jocelyn escape. He entrusted a friend of his to tell Lady Gondara that he fell from his horse and broke his neck—dying instantly. “He then married Jocelyn in the Wood privately. Shortly thereafter, she turned sixteen and was expecting my great grandmother on my mother’s side. It wasn’t long after she gave birth, that Lady Gondara found out about the betrayal of my great-great grandfather, and the guard that lied about his death. Gondara ordered the guard that lied for him to be put to death, and then she sent out more guards into the Wood to find my great-great grandparents. Lady Gondara killed Sir Eric by sword within minutes of his being captured. She then imprisoned Jocelyn in the tower to finish her death-by-starvation sentence.” “But why not just kill her too?” Marianna asked, confused as to why Gondara was dragging Jocelyn’s death out. “I mean, why let her starve and risk her escaping again?” Marianna began biting her nails, not realizing how insensitive her question truly was. Amber gave her a distorted look of why-would-you-say-that? “She’s got a point, Amber,” Jasper pointed out, handing a bag of chips over to Marianna upon her gesturing. “Apparently she was blood-thirsty, so why didn’t she just end Jocelyn’s life?” “Hang on a minute, Jasp,” Marianna interrupted engrossed in the saga of Amber’s family history while munching on some chips. “Who took care of your great grandmother? Who raised her?” Crumbs fell down the front of her shirt as she reached for a can of lemon-lime soda. “First of all, Gondara obviously relished in seeing Jocelyn grow weak from starving-to-death,” Amber replied. “Apparently, she felt more powerful watching her suffer before dying. As to who raised my great grandmother . . . Grandma Angelica told me it was Mrs. Tuttles who raised her mother. She found my great grandmother in a cave not far from her own. After Mystasia explained what had happened to Sir Eric and Jocelyn, Mrs. Tuttles took Great Grandma Genevieve in, protecting and raising her secretly.” Jasper slightly smirked. “She probably did it out of guilt from not trying to rescue Jocelyn.” “What about Gondara?” Marianna asked, peeking at the journal. “Is she still around?” Amber flinched at Marianna’s mentioning the possibility that Gondara may still be alive. She paused in thought and then thumbed to the end of the first journal, then through the second, trying to find out what happened to Gondara. However, nothing was written about the Dark Sorceress’ demise. It wasn’t but a few minutes when Amber looked up at Marianna and Jasper, shaking her head, completely at a loss. She thumbed through several pages in each book a second time just in case she missed something. “Apparently the rumors floating round in school are true,” Amber said dismally. “I can’t find anything in these journals about her death, so there’s no way of knowing if she was ever eradicated. One thing is certain . . . she definitely had one of the Emerald Wands of Chrysalis in her possession, so I highly doubt she’s dead in a grave somewhere.” “Is there any clues in there about where the two Emerald Wands of Chrysalis may be hidden?” Jasper’s interest had spiked within the last several minutes. He waited with bated breath, hoping to find out more about the missing wands.

Amber flipped through the first journal, but nothing was mentioned about a secret place where the wands may have been hidden. She then opened the second journal and found a passage. She read it aloud:

To find the greatest of all treasures, obstacles remain. Knowledge and strength of will is needed; courage and beliefs, thou must retain. A secret passage I cannot disclose for fear of thieves. Search the eldest rings of wood and pay attention. My life is over before my breath has ended; my words stain blood upon these pages. Defeat my worst enemy, and you shall obtain the missing treasure; ending her reign. Amber, Jasper, and Marianna all looked at the words written in blood. A pretzel fell from Jasper’s fingers. For the first time in his life, he was shocked into silence and felt about ready to throw up. Marianna swallowed her soda the wrong way and patted her chest to stop from choking. She couldn’t believe what she was staring at. “T-This is getting too spooky—t-that looks like real—” Marianna couldn’t choke out what she wanted to say in between coughs. All she could do was point to the passage in the journal and scuttle backwards. The entry appeared in written blood . . . fresh magical blood.

Chapter NineThe Apparition

T

he pillar candle sitting centered between them began to melt around its wick, flickering eerie shadows upon the tent walls. Outside, the rain poured steadily against the tent as darkness crept in all around them. The three of them sat staring at the blood written entry in silence, mystified as to how Jocelyn magically preserved her blood-written words to remain brilliant red. If one unfamiliar with magical qualities didn’t know better, they would think the entry was recently written. For you see, when touched, the entry was still wet, yet did not stain the back of the previous page. “There’s no way that’s Jocelyn’s blood.” Jasper said dubiously. Amber swallowed hard, bracing the book. “This is Jocelyn’s blood!” she snapped. “Weren’t you paying attention to the entry I just read?” Part of Amber wanted to throw the journal out in the rain because of fear, yet the other part of her wouldn’t let her release it. She managed to maintain control of her emotions while exchanging terrified looks with Marianna and Jasper. “It’s warning us of danger—something Jocelyn foresaw when she was alive.” “M-Maybe we should put these j-journals back, Amber,” Jasper stammered, reaching out with a shaky finger, “there’s some pretty weird stuff in there . . . there is . . . things we shouldn’t know about.” “Blood turns dark brown as it ages,” Marianna said perplexed. “Doesn’t it?” “From what I remember of science class last year, yeah, it does,” Amber said, impatiently gesturing for Marianna to continue. “So? Everyone knows this . . . what are you getting at?” “So . . . this could be a trick of some sort,” Marianna reasoned. “I agree with Marianna.” Jasper pulled the first journal from Amber’s hand and the second journal from beside her before she could stop him. He then tossed them in the far corner of the tent, shuddered, and wiped his hands on his pants spastically after having touched them. The whole idea of the journal being a trick did not go over well with Amber. She reached for the books, snapping angrily, “Those books are mine, Jasper! You’ve no right to take them from me! I want to finish reading them—give them back!” Jasper shook his head, moved his backside to block Amber’s access to the journals, and folded his arms. Amber crawled over Jasper in attempt to retrieve the journals, but he instantly grabbed her hands, and the two of them struggled. “This is crazy, Amber,” snapped Jasper. “That journal may be laced with Dark Magic!” Amber, now thoroughly upset by Jasper’s actions, used all her strength to push him over on his side. Grabbing the journals she said hotly, “Dark Magic—my foot! No one in my family has ever resorted to using Dark Magic! You’re being ridiculous over something that was most likely done by a spell Jocelyn used. There’s nothing Dark about those books!” “Amber, I’m not suggesting anyone in your family ever used Dark Magic,” he retorted. “But it is possible that these may not be Jocelyn’s books.” “It might very well be one of Gondara’s tricks to lure us into a trap,” Marianna added. “Look at your family history. Gondara has been after the women in your family for more than four centuries. You can’t seriously believe these journals are penned by Jocelyn’s hand!” “I don’t believe anyone knew about these journals—least of all Gondara,” Amber argued. “I found them in the attic! As far as I know, Gondara never set foot in my family’s house. If she did, she would’ve made certain our house looked like a bloodbath!” “Not necessarily,” Jasper interrupted, “not if she—” “After all I’ve read about her in the first journal,” Amber cut Jasper off mid-sentence, “I am quite certain she would’ve killed every last one of us. These books are absolutely, positively written by Jocelyn’s hand. Now, enough of this Dark Magic chattering, I suggest we quit talking about the journals and search for the Emerald Wands of Chrysalis first thing in the morning. They could have something to do with the disappearance of my parents and grandparents! If we find the wands, maybe they can aid us in finding my family.” “Amber, let’s be reasonable about this,” Marianna rationalized. “How could either of the Emerald Wands of Chrysalis have anything to do with your parents’ disappearance, or your grandparents’ disappearance for that matter? According to the first journal, what happened with the wands and your ancestors, happened centuries ago—when Jocelyn was alive. Gondara hasn’t even made an appearance to support the rumors of her lurking round town.” Jasper nodded and stared at Amber, thinking the same thing. Amber was about to answer Marianna when Jasper impatiently piped in his two cents. “I agree with Marianna. The rumors in town about Gondara still lurking about are just rumors. And just how are three underage wizards like us, untrained and inexperienced, supposed to go after missing wands and rescue your family without getting killed? We haven’t a clue as to where we should even begin to look!” Amber shook her head. “It’s so simple, even a five-year-old could figure it out. We’ll use the journals. And I’m not now, nor will I ever be afraid of Lady Gondara. Where there’s determination, there’s strength of will. And where there’s strength of will, victory is assured. My father used to say that all the time. I sincerely believe those wands are linked to my family’s disappearance.” Marianna and Jasper said nothing at this; they simply shook their heads as if arguing their viewpoint was pointless. Amber simply refused to believe setting off on a quest to find wands and her missing family was like going on a wild goose chase, not to mention extremely dangerous. And once she made up her mind to do something, there was no changing it. Amber’s face fell into sadness as she moved her hand across Jocelyn’s name. As she thought more of it, she missed many things about her father, one of which was how he used to make up sayings that somehow always rang true. Now he was gone indefinitely, and Amber wasn’t certain she’d ever see him, her mother, or her grandparents again. Marianna and Jasper came to the same realization that Amber would set off on her dangerous quest with or without them. They exchanged looks of mixed feelings and guilt, yet neither one apologized to Amber for their insensitivity toward her feelings. And neither one said anything more to discourage her, seeing as it was her choice. They simply sat in silent contemplation; each hoping Amber’s urge to go on a wild goose chase would soon pass. As silence lingered and tension of disagreement thickened, Amber began feeling as if it was two against one. She suddenly burst out emotionally, “Gondara tortured my ancestors and killed two of them. She’s most likely alive and keeping my family imprisoned somewhere! I have to find those wands and get my family back!” “I think you’re getting a little too brave for your britches, wanting to go out searching for those missing wands and family she may have killed!” Jasper snapped. “That’s big trouble you’re asking for, that is, and I’m not so certain I want to be a part of it! You’d be risking your life and ours for nothing!” Amber’s temper flared. “My family is not worth nothing, Jasper! Course, how could I’ve been so foolish as to expect you to understand. Your family is home safe and sound.” “I didn’t mean they weren’t worth anything,” Jasper said, gazing at the tent floor. “I just meant I don’t want to see you get hurt or worse, killed.” Amber was touched by his affection for her, but her determination was intensely adamant. She turned to implore Marianna’s help. “To be honest, Amber,” Marianna added, “I’m not so keen on setting out on a dangerous quest either. None of us have the proper training, or have performed enough spells to challenge Lady Gondara, should any of us run into her.” “Speak for yourself when it comes to not knowing spells,” Amber retorted angrily. “If you don’t want to help, then fine—don’t come. I don’t need either of you anyway. You’d only be holding me back!” she snapped, glaring at Marianna, her feelings of hurt and anger apparent on her face. “I’m perfectly capable of going off on my own!” Amber turned away and said nothing more as she began tucking the journals into her bag. When she was through zipping her bag closed, she sat staring out the mesh tent window, ignoring Jasper and Marianna. Marianna sat in a huff, fidgeting until she couldn’t take the silent treatment any longer. Jasper busied himself with peeling one of his longest fingernails. “All right—all right already,” Marianna said, tossing her hands into the air. “I think my helping could be a big mistake . . . but I’ll help in any way I can.” Marianna was coming along to help. At least that’s what Amber thought, and she began to lighten up a bit. However, Marianna was naïve enough to believe that helping Amber meant doing book research, not heading off into the dangerous unknown. As neither one realized this at the time, neither thought to expound exactly how Marianna would be helping out with the quest. Now remained the question . . . what about Jasper? Amber turned her attention back to Jasper, hoping he’d change his mind now that Marianna agreed to help. However, he wasn’t misunderstanding Amber’s request. And he was in no hurry to agree to face Gondara’s wrath, should she truly still be alive after all these centuries. It was now two girls against one boy. And as they waited for his answer, both girls stared hard at him, thinking he was nothing more than a coward in every sense of the word. Then a sudden idea came to Amber. I’ll have to convince Jasper into coming along or go on the quest alone with Marianna. All it would take is a little reverse psychology and a smidgen of guilt to convince him. It’s devious to manipulate him, but I do not fancy being alone in the Wood with Marianna—the first and only one to admit she’s afraid of her own shadow on Halloween. She’s the only one in Magia classes still unable to protect herself, or anyone else for that matter. It seemed, to Amber, that playing on Jasper’s compassionate nature was all she could do. But was it going to work? Amber put her idea to the test, saying, “Jasper, what if it was your parents missing? Do you think I’d just abandon you if you asked for my help in finding them? Honestly, if you think that little of our friendship then perhaps you should leave.” Jasper sat quietly, uncertain of what to say in his defense. During those several moments of silence, Amber reflected on a few events they had been through since they first met . . . The first event she recalled was the time they went to the Magia Halloween Carnival. Jasper ran away from the haunted house when a bald man with scraggly teeth rattled his chains, and chased him through the parking lot. Then there was the time three bullies were teasing Jasper for hanging out with her and Marianna all the time, making it a well-known fact that he never hung out with any male chums. They called him effeminate, although he acted like a full-blooded boy who fancied girls. For a short spell, Jasper stood his ground; then after thinking more of it, he liked his face the way it was. He wasn’t certain he could take on four bullies. Their bulky sizes intimidated him, seeing as they outnumbered him four-to-one. He backed away, picking up the pace until he was in a full run. He was almost out of earshot when they called out threats to beat him up the next day at school. To add further insult, they’d sell tickets to those interested. And being the coward that Jasper was, he not only ran away at lightning speed at hearing this, but he stayed home for a whole week. Jasper had gotten so worried over what was going to happen to him physically, that he broke down and admitted to Amber, everything that ran through his mind when the bullies threatened him. It wasn’t until his parents straightened out the whole matter with the boys’ parents and the principal, that he went back to school without fearing for his life. Amber’s thoughts shifted back to the problem at hand. This quest had become the most important thing to her in a very short time. And the longer Jasper said nothing, the more she wanted to end their friendship once and for all. However, in thinking more of it, she would miss him tremendously. Jasper would always make her laugh when she was upset over missing her parents. And he never failed in giving her a shoulder to cry on when things got tough at home with Crystal and Willow, or when she faced peer pressure from the cliques at school. Even so, it appeared he was about to let her down for the first time since she knew him, and she did not know how to deal with it. Jasper looked at Marianna, then Amber. Two of the things he always liked about Amber, was her determination to succeed, and her strength in taking on a challenge. She was strong-willed and loyal to those she cared about, yet vulnerable at the same time. He had seen this in her more than anyone else, including Marianna. Then a sudden realization came to him that maybe Amber was right. He hadn’t truly understood what it was like not having parents around, especially with the possibility that something horrible may have happened to them. His home life was normal and so was Marianna’s. Both of them had their parents living safe and sound at home. And as he thought more of it, it was true Amber had always been there for him when he needed her advice or moral support. So why was he so adamant about leaving Amber in her time of need? Was he really that much of a coward? Swallowing hard, feelings of extreme guilt settled in his conscious. It was time he made a change, help Amber, and stop being afraid of his own shadow. He cleared his throat and adopted a new attitude in light of the situation. Amber continually stared at her sleeping bag as if all hope had been lost. “Fine, I’ll go,” Jasper snapped in decision. “But the first sign of trouble, I’m head’n for home!” He let out a bothered sigh and rolled his eyes as he lay back on his elbows, hoping the argument was over.

Amber raised her gaze and smiled at him.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Amber suggested happily relieved. “It’s best if we set out at dawn to look through the Wood for any possible signs leading to the missing wands.” “‘Set out at dawn’?” Marianna repeated incredulously. “Amber, I thought you only needed me to research books!” “There’s no time for that.” Amber yawned, too exhausted to argue any further. “We’ll talk about it at dawn. Right now, let’s get some shuteye.” After blowing out the candle, she settled in her sleeping bag with the journal cradled in her embrace. “And just how are we going to get up at dawn to go looking for the wands?” Jasper complained, sitting up. “It’s raining outside, so expecting the sun to come out at dawn would be a bit presumptuous, not to mention we have no alarm clock.” “Don’t worry,” Amber said drowsily, “I may be tired, but I’m also anxious to get going. I hardly doubt I’ll be able to properly sleep. While I’m thinking of it, you’d best grab your sleeping bag and sleep in here, Jasp, especially if there’s a chance Lady Gondara is still lurking about. Remember, there’s safety in numbers.” “What? Are you crazy?” Marianna shrieked in objection, gesturing back and forth between them. “What if he gets caught sleeping in here with us? Your sister will kill him and us!” Amber sat up and rolled her eyes, saying, “Marianna, you worry too much. Crystal trusts me.” She waved her hands, dismissing Marianna’s panic attack. “Besides, she’s pretty cool about things like this. She may just think we got freaked out by the storm. I never confided in her about my love of sleeping outdoors when it’s storming.” Jaspers’ staying in the same tent was not a big deal to Amber. In fact, it seemed to be the best solution, especially if Lady Gondara was still around harboring an agenda. Marianna, on the other hand, was very uncomfortable sleeping in the same tent with a boy, even if it was only Jasper. If her parents ever found out, this would be her last sleepover. But rather than argue with Amber about sleeping arrangements, or further argue about setting off on a quest to find the missing wands, Marianna nestled down into her sleeping bag until it was nose-high. She glanced at her two best friends wondering what she had just gotten herself into and resolved to talk her way out of going on the quest in the morning. She turned over and fell fast asleep.

As for Jasper, normally this would’ve been a dream come true, sleeping in the same tent with two girls, but he really didn’t think of Amber and Marianna as girls per se`. Rather, he thought of them as sisters, and felt very comfortable about the idea of staying in the same tent. In a round-about-sort-of-way he felt it was his job to protect them, hoping of course, that the opportunity need never arise. He had no desire to meet Lady Gondara, Malazar, or any other evil entity for that matter.

Jasper puffed up his skinny chest as he retrieved his sleeping bag, and settled in the girl’s tent with his back turned to them. He drifted into dreamland with a crooked smile across his face. Meanwhile, Amber tossed and turned just as she had predicted. She couldn’t erase the quest, its dangers, or excitement from her mind long enough to sleep. Embracing her legs, she gazed out the mesh window, thinking about the latest entries she just read in Jocelyn’s journal. The blood-written words continuously stirred around in her head, calling to her, and getting more intense as the stormy night went on. And even though she’d never outwardly admit it, she too worried about heading off on her destined quest. It was going to be dangerous enough for her; however, now she involved her two best friends, and she wasn’t so certain that she should have. As Amber’s thoughts engaged in a whirlwind of uncertainty, the sound of soothing rain calmed her frayed nerves. She always loved the sound of rain; its gentle repetition mesmerized her eyes into half-moons on nights like this when she couldn’t sleep. Unable to silence the “whys” and “what ifs” in her thoughts, she laid back and flung her arms over her face in frustration. Amber closed her eyes, hoping to catch some shuteye before dawn, but she was unable to fall into a peaceful and content sleep. She lay staring out the mesh tent window, riddled with anxiety. A few hours later, the crystal wind chime hanging from the back porch settled down. All was still when a sudden chill tickled its crystals. As the crystals swirled about in an enchanting melody, a shimmering light danced throughout the trees, performing its mysterious magical incantation. Amber’s eyes widened as she sat up, curious by the shimmering light that appeared to be approaching the tent. She squinted to see properly, but all she could manage to catch a glimpse of was a shimmering form of some sort, standing only feet away from where she sat afraid to move. She withdrew from the mesh window and prayed that whatever or whoever it was would withdraw back into the Wood.

Amber’s heart beat hard and fast as she waited for something to happen. After several moments passed, the shimmering light faded and the form disappeared into the Wood.

Crawling over Marianna’s feet gently, Amber unzipped the tent flap to see if what she believed to be an apparition of some sort was still lingering about.

It only took a few seconds of Amber perusing the Wood before she noticed off in the distance, the strange glistening vision. She watched as it transformed into a solid young girl, not older than sixteen in years. Colors of faded eggplant flowed from the girl’s shoulders to the ground, crimson-brown strands flowed loosely from her head, and an ash-colored cloak with splotches of blood stains embraced her figure. Amber was certain that the young girl was in fact the same shimmering form that approached her tent. The girl slowly approached the oldest cypress tree just beyond the Shadows’ backyard, all the while watching over her shoulder. Her eyes curiously fell upon the dome tent as if she was expecting to be watched. To her fancy, a delicate nose and one eye stared out the tent flap, trying to remain unnoticed. For a short spell, she locked eyes with Amber. Pulling back frightened, Amber wasn’t certain of whether or not she should peek again, but curiosity prodded her finger to pry the tent flap open a smidgen once more. The girl drew her attention back to the vast knot in the cypress and continued tending to her business, happy that Amber was witnessing her secret deed. It had to be nearly dawn, thought Amber. Perhaps she had been seeing things. After all, she hadn’t slept, and it wouldn’t be the first time her eyes played tricks on her. Perhaps it was all just a dream. No, it wasn’t possible . . . she had been lying with her eyes nearly closed, but sleep never overcame her consciousness. There was no mistaking that she had definitely made eye contact with an authentic apparition. For the first time in her life, Amber was afraid to move. Quickly burying her head inside her sleeping bag, Amber couldn’t help thinking it was inevitable that the girl was going to appear to her, possibly even curse her. Several minutes had passed, yet nothing happened. Amber slowly pulled the sleeping bag off her head and cautiously fingered the flap of the tent open again. She had to see what the girl was doing. The girl titled her porcelain face toward the seven heavens, raised her hands beseechingly toward the sky, and called for heavenly power. It was at that precise moment when Amber caught a brief glimpse of her face. There was something very familiar about her, but she couldn’t place where she’d seen her before. Amber jogged her memory until she remembered seeing black and white photos that resembled the girl in her parents’ photo albums. She was certain the girl was someone her family knew or was related to, and she would eventually remember the girls’ name. Amber had heard the name mentioned many times in passing in the Shadows household, but she simply couldn’t remember what it was. Who was she, and why was she gracing the Wood with her spirit? Why hadn’t the apparition appeared to her after they made eye contact the second time? Amber thought this all too fantastic to ignore. She sat engrossed in the mystical magic happening before her, and minded to not make a sound, or wake her sleeping mates. The girl spoke an incantation in high-pitched shrills, waving her slender, blood-stained hands in a spherical motion. Amber strained her ears to hear the words, but the girl’s voice grew so piercingly high, she wound up covering her ears instead. Fearing the noise would shatter her eardrums, she pulled back completely into the tent and buried her head inside her sleeping bag, but it was no use. The shrilling was too high-pitched and nothing could block out the sound. When the shrilling had finally stopped, Amber unburied her head and eyed Marianna and Jasper. Amazingly, they had managed to sleep straight through the ear-splitting noise. How was it possible for anyone to sleep through such ear-splitting sounds? Was she the only one who could hear it? It appeared that Marianna and Jasper had fallen into such a deep sleep, fireworks wouldn’t have woken them. Crouching low, Amber made her way to a nearby tree. Slowly, she straightened up and craned her neck around its trunk. Was this the first time the girl appeared in the Wood? Why was the she appearing on the night of Ambers’ birthday in the Bewitched Forest? Did it have some significance or was it purely coincidental? Amber watched at a distance, curious as to why she was being privy to the event unfolding before her. There she stood, her blood pulsating intensely throughout her fingertips. She wanted answers to her questions, and she wanted them right then and there. Unable to see properly, Amber moved again. This time, she hid behind an oak, just a few feet away from the girl. The rain fell tenaciously in a heavy downpour, more so than the hour when the others fell asleep. All Amber could make out was the girl standing with the back of her cloak to her, gazing into what appeared to be a hallow opening within the cypress. Around the opening was a glistening, gold light, beaming down from the seven heavens in a spiral of faerie dust. It swirled about the vision—shielding her—drying her clothes and body in what looked like a warm glittering whirlpool of wind. As the wind subsided, she slowly reached into the opening and pulled something invisible out. She embraced it as though it had been deeply missed and treasured. Amber’s mouth fell open in astonishment. She shook her hands, wishing the girl would hold the item so she could see it. What could possibly be hidden inside a tree? Perhaps it was one of the Emerald Wands of Chrysalis? If only she could see! Could the ghost she was seeing be Jocelyn Shadows? No it couldn’t have been, thought Amber, she’d be older looking . . . wouldn’t she? Then again, Amber hadn’t finished reading the journals, so she hadn’t a clue as to how old Jocelyn was when she died. Half tempted to approach the vision she believed was the spirit of Jocelyn, Amber bit her tongue and backed herself against the tree, struggling to restrain her curious ambition. She was overly anxious and inquisitive all at the same time. And these two things often got her into trouble—trouble she would never have gotten into, had she heeded her own advice. Nevertheless, this curiosity was different. What could possibly happen from approaching the vision? Would the girl’s spirit harm her and disappear? Was it possible Amber was just having a paranormal experience? Amber placed her right foot forward, ready to act on impulse and follow through with her inquiry. Then another chilling thought occurred to her, freezing her legs in place. The apparition could be the notorious Lady Gondara in disguise. Could she truly handle the Dark Sorceress if it was indeed her? There was only one way to find out, but now wasn’t the right time. It wasn’t wise to approach the unknown, especially when there was every possibility it was Gondara in disguise. With this thought in mind, Amber stepped back, keeping her sight focused on the girl’s spirit from a distance. Not paying attention to her footing, Amber lost her balance on an overgrown branch, and fell hard on the ground. The ghost suddenly flew up into the air and perused the Wood, looking for the one responsible for the noise. Amber flinched in certainty that she would definitely approach her now. She dropped to her knees, covering her head and body with her raincoat, hoping to blend in with the surroundings. Startled, the girl’s spirit flew up into the air and perused the Wood, looking for the one responsible for the noise. Amber flinched in certainty that the ghost would definitely appear to her now. She dropped to her knees, covering her head and body with her raincoat, hoping to blend in with the surroundings. The apparition flew around several times, combing the paths. She then flew back to the cypress after passing over Amber a second time. Although the apparition found the Wood to be empty, she placed the invisible object back into the hallow opening straightaway. Waving her hand in a gentle motion, the cove sealed itself and turned back into a solid knot in the cypress. Taking one last glance over each shoulder, she vanished, leaving glistening faerie dust in her wake. Amber gradually opened her eyes, worried the apparition was standing directly in front of, or hovering above her. After a few seconds of nothing happening, she uncurled and pulled the raincoat from over her head. She got to her feet, cautiously peering round the oak. To her great disappointment, she was standing alone in the Wood. The cypress stood as it always did, in solid form; however, there was a faint lingering spiral of faerie dust shimmering brilliantly around its trunk, high up into the heavens.

Chapter TenThe Secret Within The Eldest Rings Of Wood

U

ncertain of whether it was safe to move or not, Amber tentatively stepped out from behind the oak, and approached the cypress. Instantly, the heavenly light faded and glistening gold flakes floated weightlessly down upon the trampled grass. Amber cautiously stepped forward and examined the place where she saw the girl’s spirit. The footprints of the matted grass and the trunk of the cypress were bone dry, yet the grass outlining the footprints bejeweled in gold faerie dust were drenched from the unrelenting rain. Amber knelt down and examined the glittering specks. Most likely, the faerie dust was useless, but the magical specks were worth gathering and showing to Marianna and Jasper as a souvenir. They’d never believe something so fantastic to be true without proof, so Amber tucked away as much of the specks as she could manage into her front jeans pocket. Just before leaving, Amber thought it best to mark the tree by chipping off a piece of bark just below the sealed entrance, but then she thought better of it. If there was the slightest possibility that the apparition was not Gondara, then possibly the Dark Sorceress was lurking about; waiting for a clue or sign to lead her to the secret within the eldest rings of wood. Perhaps Gondara was watching at that exact moment. No, chipping the bark would most certainly be a dead giveaway. She had to mark the tree in a subtle way in order to protect the secret hidden within. To confuse prying eyes, Amber stepped away from the tree and examined the ground. She then nonchalantly worked her way around to the back of the tree, picking up a few twigs here and there, breaking them into little bits with one hand as she leaned against the tree, chipping off a sliver of bark with the other. Yes, this idea was best, thought Amber. Anyone watching would think she’s simply leaning against the tree to avoid the rain and lightning. She only needed a sliver of bark to help her identify the tree later, when she’d have Marianna and Jasper at her side. She tucked the wood sliver behind her ear as she moved her long hair from her face. Amber found it hard to leave the cypress. Her curiosity escalated to intolerable levels, and she had to know what was mysteriously hidden within the cypress. She was certain by what she had just witnessed, that the hidden secret was one she needed to discover, and soon if she was to succeed in finding her family. She ran haphazardly back to the tent as fast as her legs could carry her, tripping a few times over her own two feet from all the excitement. “Wake up! Wake up!” Amber shrieked, grabbing and shaking Marianna’s shoulder. “You won’t believe what I just saw!” “Amber . . . you’re dreaming . . . go back to sleep,” Marianna slurred in a sleepy haze, her eyes half-open. She turned over in her sleeping bag and fell back asleep with no interest in what Amber had to say. Amber gave up on waking Marianna but couldn’t contain her excitement. She crawled over to Jasper and tugged on his arm. “Jasper, wake up!” she implored him vigorously. “C’mon . . . Jasp wake up! I’m not dreaming! I’m very much awake! I saw her!” “AmberIwazjusdreamin’,” he slurred sleepily, waving lazily for Amber to leave him alone. “Go ’way.” “Forget about dreaming!” Amber tugged at his arm again a bit more aggressively. “I saw a young girl’s ghost over by the old cypress!” She grabbed at the zipper on his sleeping bag, unzipped it, and continued describing what she saw as she struggled to pull him out. Jasper looked at Amber as if she had lost all her marbles. He attempted to lie back down in his sleeping bag, when she began tugging at his arm again to fully wake him. “Okay—okay—I’m awake!” Jasper whined agitatedly, yanking his arm out of Amber’s grasp. “Let go of my arm! Do you have any clue as to how annoying it is to have someone tugging on your arm?” Amber rolled her eyes. “You sure you weren’t dreaming?” Waiting for assurance, Jasper sat up raising a brow in annoyance, and then lay back lazily on his elbows, his eyes slowly drooping. “You know we were reading some pretty spooky stuff before dousing the candle.” “I know what I saw . . . and no, it wasn’t a dream!” Amber spat, sitting down on her legs, her fingers running back and forth through her wet hair. Excited beyond Jasper’s comprehension, she continued tugging on him until he opened his eyes again. “We have to get to the cypress! Help me wake Marianna!” “Marianna, c’mon . . .” Jasper crawled over to Marianna and nudged her hard in the back several times. “Wake up already . . . rise and shine, China doll.” “Jasp, quit poking my back . . .” Marianna whined sleepily, perturbed her sleep was once again interrupted. She turned over on her stomach in her sleeping bag, ignoring him. If there was one thing Marianna hated, it was when Jasper called her China doll. She may have been adopted, but she was raised as an Englander and expected to be treated as such. Jasper, however, thought he was simply being cute and thought nothing of it. “Marianna, please wake up!” Amber pleaded, shaking Marianna’s arm. “I think I saw Jocelyn’s spirit by the old cypress! She was sealing something inside its knot with an incantation!” Marianna plopped her face down into her sleeping bag. Amber tugged anxiously at her elbow, saying, “There’s no time to waste!” “Okay . . . okay . . . I’m up!” she snapped, yanking her arm free of Amber’s grasp. “Geez, Amber, sometimes you can be so annoying! What are you going on about now?” Marianna yawned as she rubbed her eyes and stretched her arms. “We’re heading out to that old cypress to see if we can figure out a way to unseal what’s hidden inside its trunk,” Amber informed her as if it had already been decided. She rummaged through the extra supply bag for raincoats and tossed each, landing them directly on top of Marianna’s and Jasper’s head. “How’d she say that all in one breath, and at this time of night—morning—or whatever time it is?” Marianna said flabbergasted, after pulling her raincoat off her head. She looked out the mesh window half-dazed, then at Jasper whose eyelids were nearly closed. His raincoat lay covering only half his head as he shrugged his shoulders. He pulled the raincoat from his head and unenthusiastically sat up. Marianna pulled herself up and out of her sleeping bag, thinking Amber had some nerve dragging her out at this time of night. And she wasn’t about to shy away from expressing her irritation. “Amber, it’s raining, it’s cold. How do you figure the three of us will be able to unseal a hidden cove in a—what type of tree did you say?” Marianna crawled over Amber and Jasper, squinting to see out the tent window. “Cypress,” Amber said, ignoring Marianna’s attitude. “Yeah, Amber, she’s got a point there,” Jasper pointed out. “Not to mention, we don’t know the words to the incantation. Or—do you?” Jasper raised his brow suspiciously. It wouldn’t be the first time Amber knew something they didn’t, especially concerning incantations. Although curious, Jasper wished he was still asleep, but knowing Amber the way he did, he was certain she’d make it difficult for anyone to sleep at a time like this. With this conclusion in mind, he decided to go along and humor her. The sooner they investigated whatever it was she was so excited about, the sooner he’d be sleeping and happily dreaming again. “Unfortunately, I have no idea what the incantation words are.” Amber shrugged as she lit the pillar candle. “The apparition’s voice was piercingly high; I couldn’t make out one word, but maybe there’s an entry in this journal listing incantations to magically unseal hidden coves.” Unable to contain the excitement she felt, Amber discovered that her fingers couldn’t move fast enough to satisfy her impatience as she flipped through the pages. Marianna and Jasper looked at each other groggily as Amber scanned each page in search of spells on how to unseal hidden coves. She was insistent on making sense of everything she read and saw thus far, and if it took her on a quest, then so be it. “There has to be something,” said Amber desperately, tossing the first journal to the side and delving into the second. “Here, this might be it!” Amber read aloud: Leaves Of Dry Wind, Hear Me Awaken Your Wood, I Command Thee Vision, Open With Precision, Release Your Choke, And Unlock Your Oak, Obey Me, So Mote It Be. “Amber, how can you be certain that, that’s the right incantation?” Marianna asked apprehensively, slumping back against her sleeping bag. “This has to be it,” Amber said, gesturing to the page contents. “It mentions the oak.” “Possibly . . . except you’re forgetting one thing,” Jasper said. “Oh, and what might that be?” Amber asked, folding the journal over her arm in expectation of hearing a ridiculous answer. “The tree where you saw the apparition . . . is a cypress,” he informed her, folding his arms. “Oh.” Amber looked away dejectedly as the smart-aleck smile on her face instantly flat lined. “Yeah . . .” Jasper nodded. “So . . . now what?” He held high hopes of Amber giving up this whole crazy idea so he could get back to the dream he had been having. He dreamt he was competing in Magia’s Wizard’s War Tournament. For those not of Magian blood, Wizard’s War is a card game similar to a card game played by Nomagians called War. However, there are slight differences between the two games. In Wizard’s War, each player uses a wand to flip the cards numbered in wizard numbers, and each card has White Magic wizards or White Magic witches of written legend on the face of them. On the back is information about their name, date of birth, social standing, and all the healing potions they have created. Only six of the most advanced players (ages fifteen through eighteen), can compete in the finals. Every year, a tournament is held on the fourteenth of October for those bold enough to enter, and intellectually brilliant enough to make it into the final round. The finals were all Jasper ever dreamt about. He hated the fact that he had to wait another year before he could participate; however, he played the game as often as he could, and at night, he always had the same dream: he’d try out, he’d be chosen, and he’d win the grand prize; which was a White Magic Wizard Card made of twenty-four-karat gold, and the gift of three granted wishes. “Well . . . I’ll just have to keep searching through these journals until I find something,” said Amber strong-minded. She then looked up as though another possibility was forming in her brain. “Unless—” “Uh-oh, I don’t like that look in her eye, Jasp,” Marianna said unsettled. “We both know it means trouble.” “Yes! Here it is, listen . . .” Amber said, gesturing in excitement. A speck of faerie dust was held tight in my hand as I spoke the enchanted words once used to secretly hide my treasure in the eldest cypress. One simply had to change the word oak to cypress, so as long as the faerie dust was used on the same night it was left by the ghost roaming the wood. Most importantly, the incantation must be said within an hour before sunrise. “Don’t you see?” said Amber, closing the journal on her arm to hold its place. “No.” Jasper rolled his eyes then ran his fingers through his hair vigorously. “Pray tell . . . us poor unfortunates in the intellect department need enlightenment.” His frustration of sleep deprivation had grown immensely in the last ten minutes along with his sarcasm. Amber pulled out the little bit of faerie dust she collected. “Look . . .” “Whoa!” Jasper’s mouth fell open, his eyes widened to the size of miniature tea saucers. “Where did you get faerie dust?” He pulled Amber’s hand closer to observe the faerie dust up close. “I gathered it from the foot imprints on the ground where I saw the apparition,” said Amber. “I gathered it because I didn’t think you two would believe me about seeing Jocelyn’s spirit without bringing this as proof.” “Amber, apparitions can’t leave foot imprints—can they?” Jasper disgruntled his face in uncertainty. At this point, he was beginning to believe anything was possible in the magic world. “Apparitions trapped here in Magia have the ability to leave foot imprints,” answered Amber, pausing to remember what she’d read about them. “I read it in one of Crystal’s Advanced White Magic Spell books. It depends on whether or not they were cursed upon their deaths.” “Never mind, Jasper . . .” Marianna sat up in awe, inching closer to see the gold specks in Amber’s hand. “Everyone knows faerie dust has magical powers, Amber, didn’t you?” The specks glistened intensely, warming and tingling Amber’s palm. “Of course I did,” she said morosely, “but this is leftover faerie dust. There’s a strong possibility it may be completely useless.” “Only one way to find out,” said Jasper, reaching for the second journal. Amber was still holding the first. He seemed to have gotten over his fear of the blood-written passage. “What are you looking for?” Amber asked curiously. “I want to see if there’s any information Jocelyn may have written,” said Jasper, “that’ll tell us more about that faerie dust and its power.” “Regardless of the faerie dust, how are we supposed to unseal the hidden opening in the cypress?” Marianna asked perplexed. “It’s all right here at our fingertips.” Amber patted the cover of the journal. “All we have to do is use the same spell that the apparition used, along with the name change of the tree. There’s a secret within that cypress. I couldn’t see it properly, but I’m positive it has something to do with me. Look at the facts: First I found the journals, then tonight I saw the apparition and made eye contact with her, yet she still revealed the secret hiding place knowing I was witnessing what she was doing, and on top of everything, tonight is my fourteenth birthday. Now you tell me how coincidental that is.” “Makes sense . . .” Jasper said, thinking it over. “Not to change the subject, but it’s nearly dawn. We better get a move on to see if we can unseal that tree.” He got to his feet with both journals in hand and left the tent. “Marianna, I feel this is something I need to do,” said Amber, hoping Marianna would understand and support her. “Are you coming along or staying behind?” She opened the tent flap, waiting apprehensively for Marianna’s answer. Marianna sat indecisively, uncertain of whether or not this was something they should go meddling into. Her biggest fear was of how this quest might cost them their lives. However, finding Amber’s parents and grandparents were vitally important to Amber, and if she was in Amber’s place, she would suggest and expect her friends to help her too. What choice did she have except to tag along? “Count me in.” Marianna sighed, disregarding her better judgment. “If we weren’t such good friends, Amber, I’d tell you to have your head examined . . . by a witch doctor!” “Sweet!” Amber excitedly pulled on her raincoat and dashed out of the tent. “Let’s head to the cypress and unseal that trunk!” Marianna shook her head. Without a doubt, her comment passed through one ear and out the other where Amber was concerned. As ecstatic as Amber was over Jasper and Marianna coming along to help her, she began having second thoughts as the three of them drew closer to the cypress. Only this time, another chilling thought occurred to her she hadn’t thought of before: What about Lord Malazar? Was he killed when the earth buried the Shadows Castle? What if he wasn’t? What if he knew about the secret hidden within the cypress, and was watching them? It seemed a bit late in thinking more of it now, thought Amber, especially since she had just spent most of the night persuading her friends to tag along. Her desperation of wanting to know what happened to her parents and grandparents, kept her adamantly set on searching for them. And it was without a doubt, most certain, that the trouble Amber was about to get herself into for taking off, without so much as leaving a note for her sister and brother, was going to be intolerable to say the least. Nevertheless, Amber was convinced this quest was her fate. Before she knew it, she stood in a mysterious collage of giant trees. “Well . . . where is it Amber?” Jasper sauntered around impatiently, swinging his arms out in a half circle. “Over there, that tree on the left!” Amber pointed to a hundred-year-old weathered tree of immense measurement. Its trunk stood grand in perfect spherical shape, its branches abundant in every autumn hue, and its height was the tallest in all the Bewitched Forest. She ran toward the cypress and circled around its trunk to find the place where she pulled a sliver of bark from its wood skin earlier. Jasper and Marianna followed Amber around the tree. Within seconds she found and pointed out the space of missing bark. “This is it!” she said, eyeing the vastness of the tree and the knotted trunk. “Jasper, do you have the journals?” “Right here.” Jasper held them out for the taking. Amber grabbed the second journal and opened to the page containing the spell she needed. At first she read the words to herself; then she muttered the words under her breath several times while walking, until she was certain she had memorized it perfectly. Clearing her throat, she recited each word with clear pronunciation, changing the name of the tree just as Jocelyn had instructed in the second journal. “Leaves of Dry Wind, Rain to Wake Your Cypress, Prism, Vision, Open With Precision, Unbind Your Hold and Unseal Your Choke, Obey Me, So Mote It Be.” Marianna and Jasper stood close to one another behind Amber, staring at her as though she were acting overdramatic. Suddenly, a tremor shot from under their feet up to the tree. Marianna grabbed hold of Amber on instinct, pulling her away from the cypress, back toward her and Jasper. All three backed up, trying to avoid any further danger, but the further they stepped, the further out the tremor spread in perimeter. It was only when they stopped moving that it all hit at once. The cypress vibrated and swayed as if a personal earthquake was taking place beneath its roots. Suddenly, luminous gold beams of light from the heavens shone brilliantly down on the face of the tree. Amber, Marianna, and Jasper clung together in terror, uncertain if they should run or wait to see what was going to happen. “Let’s get out of here!” Jasper shouted, stumbling backwards. “I really don’t want to stick around!” He scrambled to his feet and was just about to take off running when Marianna and Amber grabbed hold of his ankles. He lost his balance and fell, landing face down in the wet grass. “Where do you think you’re going?” Amber lost hold of his ankles briefly, then caught hold again. “Ow!” Jasper spat out grass. “Let go!” He kicked as hard as he could to free his ankles from their grasps, but they held on so tight his pants started to come off. “No way!” shouted Amber, her grip slightly slipping. “You said you would stick with us! Are you really the coward everyone in school makes you out to be?” “Call me a coward—call me what you will—but I’m not sticking around here to get off’d in a spell gone wrong!” Jasper struggled to pull free. “Oh, stop it, Jasper,” snapped Marianna. “You’re being overly dramatic! All she did was recite a spell for heaven’s sake! What did you think was going to happen?” “Not this!” He grabbed at the grass, still attempting to pull his legs free. It was only when Amber and Marianna managed to pull his pants half-way off that he stopped struggling to pull them back up. “We need to try and get to our feet,” Amber shouted. “Stay here Jasper!” Jasper was about to run again, when Amber and Marianna caught him by the shirt. All three stumbled backwards, toppling onto one another when an eerie voice began singing in a high-pitch octave. There they sat, cowering and covering their ears for fear of going mad. After the singing had finally stopped, a woman’s ghostly voice echoed a spell throughout the Bewitched Forest. “Faerie Dust, Faerie Dust, Unhide Thy Space, Trustacia And Obey Me, So Mote It Be!” “Amber, stop reciting,” Jasper bellowed fearfully in her face. “You’ve already upset the tree as it is!” His legs stiffened as he kept his arms pinned over his head. “I didn’t say anything!” Amber shouted back, flinging her arms over her head. She tried turning every which way to escape the voice encircling them, but it was pointless. Her fear trapped her in an invisible bondage. She tried to reach out to Marianna, but just like Jasper, her arms and legs remained frozen in place. “If you didn’t, then who did?” Jasper panicked, perusing the area to see if there were any ghosts hanging about. “How should I know?” Amber shouted back to him, rolling over to his side. “Marianna was it you?” Cowering and clinging tightly to the left backside of Jasper’s flannel shirt, Amber wished she hadn’t talked them into coming back with her to the cypress. “I-It w-wasn’t m-me!” she shrieked. “Why are you pulling away from me? Don’t leave me all alone!” Marianna rolled over to Jasper’s other side and grabbed his shirt so spastically, it began ripping. Clenching her eyes shut, she hung onto his shirt, praying it would hold out and the echoing voice would stop. The wind howled a foreboding melody as they clung to each other, exchanging terrified looks, each wanting desperately to run and hide out of fear. It was nearly impossible for them to withstand the earth quaking below their bodies. Only the surrounding Wood appeared to be quaking. After several attempts of trying to get to their feet, and after several times of banging their heads in the process, they found themselves nearly balanced enough to make a run for it. Then instantly, the ground stopped shaking. All three turned around and stared at the tree bewildered, thinking nothing had changed. Yet, something had indeed changed and was very different. The same warm, golden light shone down as before, yet it was in a brighter spiral form than before. Suddenly, a brilliant light surged down through the center of the spiral, redirecting the spiral into a different form. It transformed into a pulsating square outline, centered in the knot of the tree. All three stood motionless, their eyes helplessly hypnotized by the outline. And the longer they stared, the more the square pulsated. Jasper asked awestruck, “Why is it pulsating? Is it waiting for something to be said or done?” “What is it?” asked Marianna, her fear replaced by pure fascination of the light’s brilliance. “Don’t know—”Amber said bewildered. “Maybe it’s waiting for us to do something,” Jasper suggested, watching the gold spiral of light twine endlessly into the heavens. “Like what?” Amber said, distracted by the alluring vision before them. She wasn’t fully paying attention to the conversation. A dozen thoughts and questions zoomed around in her brain. She’d never seen such a mysterious peacefulness in one place. It was almost as if the square outline had hidden secrets coursing through each interwoven twist. How could anything so radiant and peaceful be empowered by unexplainable energy? Where did this energy come from? Was it possibly a trick of Lady Gondara, or possibly Lord Malazar? Jasper tried distracting Amber’s attention by tugging on her sleeve aggressively. She stumbled forward, but it didn’t appear to affect her in the least. “What?” she answered, her thoughts lost in amazement. “Amber, the faerie dust,” Jasper suggested. “It’s waiting for the faerie dust.” Amber abruptly snapped out of her trance. Pressing her hand to her pocket, she asked, “Are you certain?” Jasper nodded, saying, “There’s only one way to find out.” “Faerie dust . . . faerie dust . . . of course!” Amber dipped her hand into her front pocket and pulled out the faerie dust. “The journal states that before sunrise the found faerie dust must be used in order for the incantation to unseal the hidden cove.” She moved the faerie specks around in her hand, watching it glisten one last time. She then enclosed it in her hands. Marianna stepped alongside Amber, still fixated on the brilliance of the spiral. “The square outline is pulsating faster, Amber. Don’t you think we should use the faerie dust now?” “Possibly . . . but what do I do with the faerie dust?” she asked, opening her hands. “I only have a little left. I’d hardly say that’s enough to do the job.” “Just throw the faerie dust into the square,” Jasper said, gesturing impatiently. “Let’s see what happens. It either works or it doesn’t.” Amber hesitantly stepped toward the brilliant light. Its brilliance beguiled her every step of the way. She had planned to keep the faerie dust as a keepsake of the quest. Now she was expected to toss it away. What if something went wrong? What if she and her friends got killed because she gave in to her avid curiosity? Amber was terrified of what might happen; however, there was no turning back. She had to finish what she started. Now standing just a few steps away from the square outline, Amber tried to find the nerve to toss the faerie dust into its form. Upon the third try, she found enough bravery to release the faerie dust, and tossed it into the center of the pulsating square. The square outline formed into a hand and grabbed the faerie dust as if it were stolen from it; then shifted back into spiral form again, swirling upwards vivaciously for miles. With no understanding as to why, Amber stepped closer. “What’s she doing?” asked Jasper. “Don’t just stand there, stop her!” Marianna pushed Jasper forward to pull Amber back, but it was too late. She had already stepped into the glistening spiral of faerie dust and gazed straight into the square outline which had just transformed into a jagged door with an antique brass knob. Amber reached her hand toward the door out of avid curiosity. Expecting it to feel smooth and warm, she touched the wood. Without warning, a small electrical jolt of static electricity coursed through her fingertips. Amber tried to pull back, but it was too late. She lost control over her hand. Instantaneously her hand fell numb, her fingers magically stuck to the gold knob. Something influenced Amber’s will power, making her turn the knob clockwise. Within the door was a ruby-colored door, hiding its secret. Inside, she found another luminous light spiraling around an old, thick book. Its leather had aged at least a hundred years, and it had raised, black calligraphy script reading: Legends, Spells, and Enchantment BookProperty of Jocelyn Shadows The book of golden-edged pages floated from its iron holder and settled gently in Amber’s hand. A warm sensation pulsated throughout her fingertips; then coursed through her blood and bones, replacing the chill and wetness of rain. Faerie dust emanated from the book, engulfing Amber’s hand with its brilliance as she ran her fingertips across the title of the book, and there she stood, completely lost in awe and curiosity.

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