Forceful

Prowling Shadows - Chapter 1

Celestin's heart stilled for a moment as his brain sought to catch up with his new situation. Astore Camonica, somehow knew what the ingredients would be used for, even when Celestin himself didn't. Plus, he knew it was magick. It would be safe to read between the lines and say that Astore knew that Celestin was a witch as well.

For some reason, the feeling in the clairsentient boy's core magnified and Celestin stumbled over to land on his knees. His breaths shaky and rigid, his heart pounding, a stark difference from its previous state of stillness. Celestin's eyes watered and his vision failed him as he fell onto the path below him, his body unconscious and the paper caught in the wind to end up elsewhere.

A familiar feeling of hardness provides comfort for the hazy eyed boy who is slowly gaining consciousness. At least he knows that he is home and nowhere else. Only the Gods and Goddesses know what would happen if Celestin woke up to unfamiliar surroundings. He pushed up on the back of his forearms and hoisted his body up to sit back and call Mamma. When his throaty screams and shrieks were unanswered, Celestin took it upon himself to push his body's limits and get off his bed and look for Mamma. After searching around for a while, a strong gust of wind urged the broken boy to venture outside in pursuit of his parent-figure.

Once outside, he found his Mamma standing in the middle of a casted circle and facing eastwards. Element of air, I call upon you to watch over me while I work. Mamma rotated three other ways before standing tall and yelling with athame in hand. As above, so below, I call upon the element of spirit.

Mamma flings the athame to the ground and sits crisscrossed, their eyes closed. Celestin blinked and looked away, knowing better than to disturb Mamma while they are working.

Hobbling back inside the cottage, Celestin took out the small iron pot and filled it with water. He then struck the wood underneath the pot with fire and waited for it to come to a boil. While the pot heated, Celestin rummaged through the drying herbs hanging upside down from their ceiling and cut out the necessary amount of peppermint before casting it into the recently boiling pot.

By the time the tea finished steeping and was transferred over to the small family's teapot, Mamma walked in through the front door and sat down on the pillows on the floor. Celestin brought over the teapot along with two small cups. He silently poured the tea for himself and his guardian and halfway through their silent tea party, Mamma bluntly states how the herbs have a different vibe than usual. Celestin hesitates for a moment before telling his Mamma that he bought them from a different place as he feared that Mamma would be upset that he broke their no detour rule. To his surprise, Mamma just nodded and finished up their tea before rinsing and drying their teacup. Mamma went into their study and left Celestin behind to his thoughts.

They never talked about each other. The most Celestin had on Mamma was that they were not his real parent and that they had been a witch for a very long time. The boy knew that Mamma had far more knowledge on him than he had on them, but he never let it bother him. He was cared for and unrestrained, what more could he possibly want? Love? That's simply not possible, Mamma was the farthest thing from affectionate.

Unknowingly, Celestin's mind went back to Astore Camonica and his encounter with the boy, along with the note that knocked the four winds out of his lungs. Remembering the boy, the ache in his stomach flared up again and he shuddered. He knew that he should probably tell Mamma that somebody possibly knew about them, but a little voice in the back of Celestin's mind told him not to. Never having questioned that voice, Celestin obeyed like a puppet and staggered over to his room after disposing of the extra tea.

His mind couldn't concentrate on the oldest grimoire as his heart kept forcing him to remember Astore. Everything for some reason reminded the black-haired boy of the rugged shop keeper. Sighing and taking out his leatherbound book, Celestin gathers his writing utensils before letting his feelings and thoughts spill onto the page. After what felt like hours and 2 pages worth of writing, Celestin finally felt empty enough to stop writing. Before hitting the hay, Celestin slid his journal back into its hiding spot to stop prying eyes from knowing personal things about the witch and possibly get him killed, and laid down.