When Magic Speaks - NaNoWriMo 2020✔️

29

Wiss didn't sleep, she didn't eat, she didn't think. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't. For that week and the month to follow, she stayed in Kitt's room. In fact, she practically lived in it. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen the sun, felt its warmth, felt...anything. It was...miraculous how in the blink of an eye, one's world can change forever. Wiss laid on his bed, her cheek pressed into his pillow, staring blankly at his wall. Despite Wiss's scent, she could still smell his everywhere. Crisp red apples. 

For days, Wiss assumed he would come back. That after a few days he would wander through the door and everything would be alright again. But he didn't. Wiss had hoped she had dreamt it all, that if she blinked just enough times, she would wake up. But nothing worked.

Marma had moved into the castle, only temporarily it seemed. She laid out a cot next to Wiss and spent her nights in there with her so that she wouldn't be alone. But during the day, Wiss could hear Marma aimlessly wandering around the castle and sticking her nose into nooks and crannies she probably shouldn't have. Marma's nosiness was the only distraction that successfully distracted Wiss, if only for a little bit, before she was once again sucked into her tunnel vision of heartbroken disbelief. In the blink of an eye...he was gone.

Every morning when Wiss turned over, she stared at the dagger with his dried lavender blood on the bedside table. And the more she thought about it, the less sense magic made. Morth had been stabbed and died, but shed no blood. Kitt had been stabbed and shed blood. But why? Because he had done it himself? Because he really was the dagger's intended target. None of this made sense, it never had. Maybe because Kitt was already weakened he evaporated. Her mind drowned in the possibilities.

Sharth came to see Wiss every day with a fresh plate of food for every meal. And for every meal, they brought with them a slice of gurlov. And every day, Wiss discarded it. Sharth didn't seem to mind, plopping the gurlov into a bowl by Kitt's bedroom door every single day. Finally, one morning into the seventh week, Wiss noticed it. 

"Sharth, what are you doing?"

Her voice was as soft as a whisper, but such a rare sound that it caused Sharth to jump. The small troll turned around to see Wiss's tired eyes staring at them. Sharth looked up at her as they walked back over to her.

"Miss Wiss," Sharth whispered back, admittedly with a tone of delight. "You're awake."

Wiss blinked softly, her face devoid of expression as she glanced over at the bowl. "What are you doing with that bowl?"

Sharth looked over at the bowl then back to her. They seemed oddly chipper despite the recent passing of their king - that was the second thing Wiss noticed.

"Gurlov doesn't go bad, milady. It's a good thing to hold onto it."

As Sharth walked back to the door, Wiss whispered. "Why?"

Sharth looked at the bowl then at Wiss again before smiling. "The power of magic is astounding. You never know what it can do."

Once Sharth had walked down to the door and stood in the hall, they called over their shoulder, "happy birthday, Miss Wiss" before closing the door. 

-

Marma had spent the entirety of this given day baking. Despite the despair in the air around Monmouth, it felt wrong not to honour Wiss and the celebration of her being another year older. Marma had always hoped that Wiss would come to possess immortality magic, to stay young forever. It frustrated her to see her granddaughter growing older. 

Being in this kitchen again brought the elder Quilm back to when she had looked over Kitt, baking pies for him and watching him play in puddles. And that day, the day that everything changed. There never seemed to be one life-altering day. Perhaps any day was capable of that. While Marma had expected to be sucked into a wormhole of bad memories being back in Monmouth, all she could think of was young Kitt. Curiously watching her bake, playing outside with the troll children, dancing under the starlight. She couldn't believe that he was gone.