Mistress Morrigan's School of Mystic and Magic Picture

Samhain was seven short hours away and with each failed tock of the faulty clock Fiona Faye Ferguson’s fate grew grimmer and grimmer.

“Fiona Faye Ferguson, WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS???” moaned Mistress Morrigan as she burst into the study in a swirl of smoke, swears and skittering salamanders. Her spice colored skirt flared like a fire, casting weird and wondrous shadows against the wall. Even when she was angry, Morrigan (the very same Mistress Morrigan who ran the illustrious Morrigan School of Mystic & Magic) was a picture of Otherworldly elegance. Her clothes, an impish marriage of October leaves, snippets of ribbon and wild ruffs of fur, were designed to bedazzle the eye, and she had that glorious curly hair that one seldom found outside the Gaelsong catalogue. At the moment, her jewelry jingled menacingly as she put her hands firmly on her hips.

Whenever Fiona tried to imitate the head mistress and lift her hands in mock menace during duels with other “would be” witches, her jewelry would inevitably tangle in a skirt hem, tearing and shearing things. Morrigan’s dragon blood charm bracelet was in no such danger.

“Delegations of witches and wizards are whirling are way to honor Samhain, so why aren't our pomegranates picked, crystal balls cleaned and bonfires burning???? The spells we cast tonight are of the utmost importance, and the spirits will demand an offering of Earth, Sea and Sky. I’d have thought even a feckless, fifth class witch would have the sense to know that!”

Morrigan’s amethyst eyes flashed all angry accusation and Fiona feared how furious the headmistress would be when she learned the true depths of the current disaster.

“I’m sorry Mistress,” Fiona fumbled, trying to find the words. “Kiera and I did go to pick the pomegranates just as you asked only, well…what I mean is….”

“Only what? Spit it out Fiona,” Mistress Morrigan demanded.

“Only Kiera’s brother, Kiernan, showed up with the rugby team and they said that pomegranates were nature’s perfect paintballs, and then they started a grand game of war. Kiera and I thought it fun at first. You know how cocky Kiernan can be? Well, you should have seen the look on his face when I eliminated him in the first round with a savage hit dead center….the pomegranate exploded a wicked blood red!. We meant to stop, but we had to defend the honor of our school didn’t we? And so….,” Fiona trailed off looking guilty.

“The pomegranates, what happened to the pomegranates?” Morrigan hissed.

“Well, I did manage to salvage this one!” Fiona said brightening, handing Morrigan the leathery fruit.

“One pomegranate? The kitchen staff is supposed to prepare a feast for our Supernatural Society from one pomegranate? How many bowls of Dragon Blood punch, how many chocolate pomegranate tortes, how many warm, roasted apples with pomegranate/caramel sauce do you think this one pomegranate will produce?” Morrigan’s snorted. She didn’t even mention the Autumn Pomtinis (a lovely brew of pomegranate juice, orange Vodka, and Peach Tree Schnapps) that she had been anxiously anticipating all day.

“Well, I thought we'd use a simple multiplication spell to make more, but Kiera disagreed claiming multiplication spells always make the food taste as bland as baby pablum. She suggested we reverse time instead, and go back to the start of the paintball war and stop it,” Fiona sighed.

“Reverse time? Is she mad? That hex would vex even a Witch First Class. It’s far too dangerous for a novice. Where is Kiera anyway?”

“Here I am,” whispered a tiny voice that seemed to come out of nowhere. “Please don’t step on me. I’ve been transmogrified!”

Morrigan bent low to the ground to see a mottled, brown wolf spider speaking in Kiera’s voice.

“Holy Hecuba! What have you done?” Morrigan exclaimed. “You’re grotesque!”

“Waah!” Kiera sobbed. “I spilled the spider potion, and a bit of it hit me and now everything is spoiled. I had a date with Sean tonight, but now look at me! He’ll be smooshing me instead of smooching me, for sure. Change me back, oh change me back!”

“Smooching should be the last thing on your mind Missy. You and Fiona are grounded until further notice. You could be expelled for this. Now Fiona fetch me the watch from the Time Before Time Was. It’s the only way to correct this calamity!”

“Mistress I meant to tell you earlier. Kiera and I had everything assembled on the altar – the spell book of Arianhod, goddess of the Silver Wheel, the spiral shells – a gift of sea, three owl eggs – a gift of sky and finally the perfect pomegranate – a gift of Earth, symbol of suffering and resurrection. We had the spider webs for connectivity and even a tufted owl to serve as messenger between our world and the next, but….oh, I might as well get it over with, I’m expelled for sure, I dropped the watch Mistress, it’s completely banjaxed! I’ve been trying to get it to work for over an hour, but nothing will set it right.”

“I could take a few cracked crystals, Fiona, the occasional broken beakers of bubbling brew, the slopped up spell books, but this is beyond the beyond. Do you realize you’ve put the whole school at risk? With that watch broken, time itself will run amuck and all the wicked, restless souls from days long past can once more return and prey on the living.

“Well, you wanted an adventure and now you’ve got it and I hope you, Kiera and I survive it. Come Glaucus,” Morrigan lifted her hand calling the owl, whom she nicknamed “glaring eyes” after the ancient Greek. “Tonight we travel to the land of the dead to restore the watch and make things right.”

Morrigan lifted up the key of the royal Hounds of Ulster:

“Warrior Wolfhound,
Honor the key,
Let the door be unbound,
Guide & protect us three.”

Suddenly a doorway shimmered and glimmered where there had been none. Morrigan inserted the key and the three companions, as well as a very put upon owl, easily entered the realm of shadows. Of course, entering Hecuba’s kingdom was never a problem. The real question was, would they return?

Continue Reading: The Fates