A Year and a Day

the Draifel Woods

As far as forests went, Draifel Woods didn't look like a dangerous, cursed location. At least, not until you made it past the first few lines of trees. It was there that the Boundary came into effect. And beyond it, the trees were dark and twisted, shadows dripped off branches and leaves, and the usual sounds of animals were utterly absent.

The faintest shimmer showed where the protective magic kept the darkness from extending further. Shadows pressed against it like snow piling up against a window.

I ran my fingers across the surface of the Boundary. Iridescent ripples spread from my touch, only to shatter into a million flecks before fading away. Not a good sign.

With a carved piece of elder wood clasped in one hand, I pressed the palm of the other flat against the Boundary. A sticky chill crept up my arm. Pinpricks of pain followed in its wake and I gritted my teeth to keep from moving. This was all to be expected.

As the sensations crawled across my chest, I held the carved wood over my heart. It warmed as the chill and pain were absorbed into it.

I waited a moment longer to ensure all the sensations were gone, then took my hand off the Boundary.

The carved wood pulsed softly with a sickly light, the pale wood now translucent. Within the dips and swirls of the carving a multitude of smokey strands writhed. The leaf-green and sky-blue strands wrapped around the bruise-purple and green-black ones, straining to keep the latter contained. I studied the carving carefully, noting how thin and frayed the green and blue strands were. Deep within the tangle of colours I caught sight of a strand that shouldn't have been there. It was a dark red, almost the shade of dried blood, and was almost entirely covered by the purple and black.

There was someone trapped within the forest.

I breathed over the wood, letting my magic sink into it. The red strand rose to the surface, pulsing to the beat of a heart. Even after calling it forth, the purple and black strands clung to it. So entangled were the three that it was impossible to say whether the curse held the person captive, or if they were the source of it.

None of the records at the Magicarum mentioned anything like this. Was it simply an oversight?

I would need to investigate further, though I didn't particularly like the thought of having to explore the forest. But, first things first. I needed to repair and reinforce the Boundary. I pushed my magic through the carving to dispel the captured fragments before dropping it into a pocket. I'd need to soak it in a purifying solution later, to make sure none of the curse clung to the wood, but it would be safe enough while I worked.

Witch magic wasn't anything spectacular to watch. Faint shimmers spread from where my hands rested against the Boundary, swirling away from me in intricate patterns as my magic worked. Most people wouldn't have even noticed the shimmers. It was, most likely, one of the reasons many people thought mages were more powerful. Their magic was flashy. All bright lights, thunderclaps, and puffs of smoke. A waste of energy, in my opinion. It wasn't as if the magic inherently required such a show. I'd met several mages who were able to create spells without all the pageantry. It simply required a more delicate touch. Something most mages didn't bother developing.

My thoughts continued to wander as I worked. It wasn't a difficult task, just time-consuming and tiring. By the time the sun had crept to the peak of its arc, I was finished. And utterly exhausted. The trek back to my cabin seemed to last forever. Once there, I had no energy to climb the ladder to the loft, so I simply lay on the bench by the hearth and promptly fell asleep.

~☆~

Deep within the forest, something stirred.

The witch's magic pressed against the shadows, confining them more tightly. The pressure hurt. It wasn't that he hadn't felt such pressure before, but there had been a slight respite when the previous witch left. A loosening. He tore at his skin, wanting to be rid of the restraining force, but it didn't help.

Drops of blood splashed on the ground, turning into puffs of shadows as they did so. The cloyingly sweet smell of decay permeated the air and he gasped for breath.

How could it feel so much worse than before the old witch left? Was this what the previous Keeper had meant when he said a lax witch was the worst luck for a cursed creature?

Over eighty years since he'd become the Keeper, and, for the first time, he began to think about his own successor. Ridiculous, really, to think a fleeting year of the Boundary weakening made him long for the oblivion that would follow passing his role on, but there it was.

If he wanted the next Keeper to come to him, he would need to act fast, before the witch's repairs took full effect.

Though he detested the idea of forcing the shadows beyond the Boundary, he had no other choice. Without the corrupting influence of a shadow, only a mage or a witch could enter the forest. And no mage or witch would ever agree to become the next Keeper.

He stretched, both physically and with his power. Already the Boundary was so much stronger than it had been, but there were still cracks. It was an impressively large bit of magic, after all, and it took time for all parts of it to adopt the changes.

There! He could feel a tiny bit of shadow already beyond the Boundary. It clung to the witch's tool, weak and easily dissipated, but seemingly forgotten. It would take some effort, but loosening it from the tool would be much easier than pushing a shadow through one of the rapidly dwindling cracks.

He wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. The new witch, strong as they were, was either inexperienced or inattentive, to have let the clinging shadow last as long as it had. Either way, he would take advantage of the opportunity and hope the witch quickly learned from their mistake.