Chapter 1
Glitter and Growls
Amy, a witch whose spells sparkle with glitter, tries to hide her embarrassment over her two yappy chihuahuas, Baby Blue Bears and Russo Baby Bears, who seem to love causing chaos during her practice sessions.
The entire world, or at least my little corner of it, seemed to be perpetually coated in a fine dusting of iridescent shimmer. It clung to my robes, settled in my hair, and, most embarrassingly, was the signature of my magic. Glitter spells. Yes, you heard me right. While other witches were conjuring fireballs and conjuring storms, I was conjuring cascades of rainbow sparkles and clouds of shimmering dust. It was, to put it mildly, not considered ‘serious’ magic in Oakhaven. And my familiars, Baby Blue Bears and Russo Baby Bears, well, they were about as serious as a glitter-covered sneeze.
They were chihuahuas. Tiny, yappy, perpetually vibrating bundles of pure, unadulterated chaos. Baby Blue Bears, a scruffy fawn with ears that seemed to have a mind of their own, was the instigator. Russo Baby Bears, a sleek black panther in miniature, was the enthusiastic accomplice. And right now, they were busy trying to ‘help’ me with my Lumina Orb practice.
“Alright, boys,” I whispered, trying to project an aura of calm competence that I absolutely did not feel. “Focus. The Lumina Orb needs steady hands and a clear mind. No chasing imaginary squirrels, no trying to dig to China under the rug.”
Baby Blue Bears, perched on the edge of my workbench, let out a sharp, questioning bark that sounded suspiciously like, “Squirrels?”
Russo Baby Bears, who had been meticulously inspecting a stray sequin with the intensity of a bomb disposal expert, immediately abandoned his important work and scrambled towards Baby Blue Bears, a low, rumbling growl emanating from his tiny chest. It was a sound that, if he were ten times his size, might have been terrifying. As it was, it was mostly just… loud.
“No! No squirrels! No digging!” I pleaded, my voice cracking. The Lumina Orb, a fist-sized sphere of potential light, pulsed weakly in my palm. It was supposed to glow with a soft, steady light, a beacon of controlled energy. Right now, it flickered like a dying firefly.
Baby Blue Bears, ignoring my pleas, launched himself from the workbench, a furry blur of fawn-colored excitement. He landed with a surprisingly soft thud on the rug, immediately commencing a frantic, high-pitched series of barks directed at… nothing. Or, knowing him, probably a dust bunny of epic proportions that only he could perceive.
“Baby Blue Bears, no!” I yelped, dropping the Lumina Orb. It rolled under the table, its faint light extinguished.
Russo Baby Bears, never one to be left out of an adventure, joined the fray. He began a frantic, circling chase around Baby Blue Bears, his little legs a whirlwind of motion. Their excited yips and growls echoed through my small cottage, a symphony of canine mayhem. My carefully arranged potion bottles rattled precariously on their shelves.
“Stop it! Both of you!” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. This was exactly why I practiced in the dead of night, when the rest of Oakhaven was asleep. Even then, my two miniature tornadoes seemed determined to broadcast my magical shortcomings to the entire village.
I crawled under the table to retrieve the Lumina Orb, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. My magic was already a source of mockery. “Sparkle Witch,” they’d call me, tittering behind their hands. And then there were the dogs. Most witches had elegant owls or wise cats as familiars. I had… this. Two pint-sized barking machines who seemed to have a PhD in disruption.
As I emerged from under the table, dusting off imaginary cobwebs, Baby Blue Bears suddenly stopped barking. He cocked his head, his oversized ears twitching. Russo Baby Bears, mid-growl, froze, his tiny body tensed.
“What is it?” I whispered, a prickle of unease running down my spine. They were usually oblivious to anything that wasn’t a squeaky toy or a dropped crumb.
Baby Blue Bears let out a soft, almost mournful whine. He nudged my hand with his wet nose, then trotted towards the window, looking out at the darkening sky. Russo Baby Bears followed, his usual boisterousness replaced by a quiet watchfulness.
I followed them, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach. The sky tonight was… different. The moon, usually a friendly silver disc, was swollen and bruised, a sickly, purplish hue spreading across its surface. It looked less like a celestial body and more like a giant, malevolent bruise.
“What in the…?” I breathed. The air felt heavy, charged with an unseen energy. A chill, unrelated to the evening breeze, snaked its way up my spine.
Baby Blue Bears pressed himself against the windowpane, his small body vibrating with a low, continuous hum. Russo Baby Bears stood beside him, his gaze fixed on the monstrous moon, his usual playful energy replaced by a strange, quiet intensity.
“They’re not chasing squirrels, are they?” I murmured, more to myself than to them. Their behavior was too odd, too focused. It was as if they sensed something.
I remembered the hushed whispers in the village marketplace, the worried glances exchanged between the elders. Talk of an ancient prophecy, of a time when the moon would turn black and steal the light from the world. I’d dismissed it as old wives’ tales, the kind of spooky stories that kept children in line. But looking at that ominous moon, and at my familiars’ unnerving reactions, I wasn’t so sure anymore.
The light in the cottage seemed to dim, not gradually, but as if a giant, invisible hand was slowly turning down the dimmer switch. The cheerful glow from my enchanted hearth flickered and shrank. Even my glitter seemed to lose some of its sparkle.
Baby Blue Bears let out another whine, a sound filled with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t fear, exactly. It was more like… a deep, primal unease. He looked at me, his dark eyes wide and questioning.
“It’s okay, boys,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. I knelt down, stroking Baby Blue Bears’ surprisingly soft fur. Russo Baby Bears nudged my hand with his head, a silent gesture of solidarity. They were still my embarrassing, yappy familiars, but in this moment, looking at their unwavering loyalty, a tiny spark of something other than shame ignited within me.
Perhaps my magic wasn't just about pretty sparkles. Perhaps there was something more to it, something deeper. And maybe, just maybe, my loud, chaotic little dogs weren't just a source of embarrassment. Maybe, in their own bizarre way, they were trying to tell me something important.
As the unnatural twilight deepened outside, casting long, distorted shadows across my room, I looked from my familiars to the menacing moon. A strange, unfamiliar resolve began to bloom within me, pushing aside the embarrassment and the fear. Oakhaven was my home. And if something was threatening to plunge it into darkness, then even a witch who dealt in glitter and had two noisy chihuahuas had to do something about it. The real magic, I suspected, was just beginning.