Chapter 13
Gathering the Glow
Amy, guided by her chihuahuas, collects petals and dew from the most vibrant night-blooming flowers, carefully storing their captured luminescence.
The air hung heavy, thick with the scent of impending doom and, if I was being honest, a faint whiff of dog biscuit. Not exactly the heroic aroma I’d imagined for myself, the witch destined to save the village. But then again, my life wasn't exactly a grand epic. It was more of a… glitter-bombed, chihuahua-yapped, slightly-embarrassing adventure.
“Russo! Baby Blue! Get down from there!” I hissed, my voice barely a whisper against the unnerving silence that had fallen over Willow Creek. The Spooky Moon, that bloated, malevolent orb, was growing larger in the sky with every passing hour, its sickly, greyish light leaching the colour from everything it touched. Even the usually vibrant petunias in Mrs. Gable’s window box looked like they’d been left out in the sun for a decade.
My two familiars, Russo and Baby Blue, were currently engaged in a high-stakes game of chase-the-moth around the tallest Lunar Bloom in the village. Its petals, usually a shimmering, opalescent white, were now a dull, bruised purple, their glow almost entirely extinguished. It was supposed to be the most potent of them all, a beacon of the night’s magic. Now, it looked as pathetic as I felt.
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