Chapter 13
The Cauldron's Chaos
The spellcasting begins! Their clumsy attempts and Russo's sneeze nearly derail the ritual. Bubbles fly, sparks ignite, and colors swirl chaotically around the cauldron in a comical display of nascent magic.
The air in our little workshop, usually buzzing with the hum of happy magic, felt thick and heavy, like a forgotten jam sandwich. The cauldron, our trusty bubbling pot, sat in the center, looking less like a magical marvel and more like a grumpy grey pot that had seen better days. Around it, we, Baby Blue Bears and Russo Baby Bears, stood with our wands poised, a motley crew of fluffy determination. We had the Moonpetal, shimmering like a captured dewdrop. We had the Sunstone, warm and pulsing with captured sunshine. And we had the Shimmering Scale, which looked suspiciously like a very shiny fish scale, but Elder Raven assured us it was much more important.
“Okay, Russo,” I whispered, my voice a little squeaky with excitement. “Remember what Elder Raven said. ‘A pinch of this, a dash of that, and a sprinkle of… uh… hope’?”
Russo nodded, his brow furrowed in that way that meant he was doing a lot of thinking. “Yes, but he also said ‘stir clockwise seven times, then counter-clockwise thrice, unless the moon is waxing, in which case, hum a sea shanty.’ Which it isn’t, and I don’t know any sea shanties.”
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