4: Push and Pull
Whumptober #4 a day late because yesterday’s post was today’s and tomorrow’s prompt. Can you see why I got mixed up.
While Jhazel and Spencer visit Silver Birch, Kazesh Adastra puts her wedding ring on the windowsill and plunges her hands into a large sink of hot, soapy water. She sets about scrubbing the breadmaking utensils she has dirtied for today’s breakfast and lunch, sponge sliding around the dough hook’s curve and into each cranny of the loaf tin. The freckles that dust her arms and face glow faintly with an unnatural, yet completely natural light, as if those small dots of gold on her dark skin are constantly reflecting a light that doesn’t touch the rest of her. Kazesh is a star witch, covered in constellations of her own design, holding charges of her power.
Embedded in the land around them are marks of a different kind. A hundred small stones, each one holding a hint of energy. Meteoric iron, easily infused with star magic, is buried glinting in the earth. Amina set each one in place, evenly laid in a ring around their land. Some of the field edges are outside the circle, but the shape is easiest for Kazesh to hold.
The power keeps the wards. The world turns against her own little pocket, making it hard for things to enter without her allowing them in. It Is a constant orbiting pulse of magic, repelling intruders from all sides.
Kazesh feels it even in her sleep. She has been holding the wards since Spencer told them the resources Pike had. He’d hired new staff, new facilities, and security that could still come after their wayward experiment and their imprisoned intern.
She spends every night out underneath the stars, trying to channel enough power to last the barrier for its next day. As she sets the last fork on the drying rack, the thought of doing so again tonight fills her with exhausted dread.
Leaving the kitchenware to dry, she sits down at the table, resting her hands on its familiar wood. Amina made this table for them when they moved in together, ready to take pride of place in their kitchen, at their hearth. She reaches for the bread still sitting out on the board, slathering a slice with raspberry jam still preserved from last summer. It’ll be a month or two before the canes ripen again.
She breathes. The house is momentarily peaceful. The wards hold against everything but the small creatures she allows, and the breeze.
The sound of footsteps prompts her to push her glasses up her nose and straighten, shaking navy-dyed braids from her face. Jhazel opens the door, Spencer trailing behind her with their shoulders hunched as usual, jumper sleeves pulled down over their hands.
“Hey, sweetie,” she greets them, forcing up a smile. “How was Silver Birch?”
“Fine. She’s… Uh, she’s talking again.”
“Oh, that’s great!” She glances quickly at Jhazel, who doesn’t indicate that it isn’t. “I know you got worried when she stopped coming out.”
Spencer shrugs, not making eye contact. “Amina said she was growing more. I just worried.”
“I get it.” Kazesh pats the space on the bench next to her, and Spencer comes over to sit with a faint sigh. The poor child is still recovering, and these trips make her easily tired. They’re all tired, really. “I’d be worried too. But she’s got the best people looking out for her.”
“I guess,” Spencer mumbles. They reach for the bread.
Kazesh gets up to give them space, feeling her bones aching in protest. She goes over to Jhazel. “You okay?”
Jhazel smiles tiredly. “Yes, I’m fine. Silver Birch is growing well and Spencer was able to connect to their magic.”
“Amazing. You look exhausted, if you don’t mind me saying.”
At the hint of concern in her voice, Jhazel glances away for a moment. “I’m alright. I just delivered more magic from the forest.”
“And from yourself, too?” Kazesh tilts her head slightly, ignoring the pain that spreads across her shoulder as she does so. “Your light’s gone dim, ‘Zel. You gave too much again.”
Jhazel looks back at her knowingly. “And yours?”
What about hers? Her feet are tingling and numb. Her hands ache. Her joints are tender. Magical exhaustion is different from witch to witch, but Kazesh is keeping them all safe. She has been for weeks.
“The wards will hold,” she says, and it’s answer enough. After a pause, she adds quietly, “I’ll stop before the bleeding.”
She doesn’t mention that the bleeding has already started. That the larger freckles on her body, underneath her shirt, have opened and closed as they try to hold and release the power of the clear night sky.
