Page 24 of Board Games and Broomsticks

‘How do you feel?’ Liora asked, once the song came to an end.

‘Good. Once I focused on Nyx, the effects of the song’s enchantment fell away.’ At the sound of her name, Nyx let out a small chirp, as if to say, You’re welcome.

‘I knew you’d be a natural! We can try again at the tavern tonight during my performance! Oh, speaking of, I’ve got to shoot off for practice! I’ll see you there at eight?’

‘I’ll head into town with you. I told Gwen I’d relieve her before the afternoon rush.’

Together, the two of them (plus Nyx, who settled into Nyssa’s satchel without being invited) strode into town, their pace leisurely as they enjoyed the cool, crisp autumn day. The leaves of the trees around Hawthorne Cottage were an array of dark oranges and rich, earthy browns, some of which had made their way to the ground and crunched satisfyingly beneath Nyssa’s boots as she walked, and she was certain she saw the glimmer of pixies weaving in and out of the trees from the corner of her eye. The faint aroma of pumpkin spice and sweet toffee hit Nyssa as they reached the cobblestone alleyway that would cut through to the town square, and soon, the occasional spark of pixie light shifted into that of the warm, welcoming glow of shop and café windows.

Liora and Nyssa parted ways at the town square’s fountain, which, like the rest of the town, had been decorated for Samhain. Half a dozen pumpkins of varying colours had been placed at its base, each hand-carved by a Nighthavener, and cat-shaped fairy lights had been woven through its iron-work fence. Everywhere Nyssa looked, townsfolk were stopping to peer in windows, or nibbling on one of Madame Jeanne’s treats, and Nyssa’s heart ached with nostalgia as she remembered Samhains when her grandmother would take her to drop off a handmade protection charm to each establishment.

Maybe I’ll do that next year.

Except … she wasn’t going to be here next year. Not if she passed her trials, anyway.

Ignoring the pang that particular notion sent through her, Nyssa made her way to Teas and Tales, where she relieved a rather flustered-looking Gwen – the poor elf had been serving customers all morning, while also keeping an eye on her nephew Felix and his group of friends who had camped out in a corner of the café on some particularly comfortable sofas. The café was far busier than usual for this time of day; almost every table was full, the rumble of laughter and conversation intermingling with the rattle of dice and clinking of teaspoons on mugs in a way that made Nyssa feel oddly excited to get to work.

She spent the afternoon serving Gwen’s Samhain tea blend – an intoxicating mix of roasted barley tea with notes of apple, rosehip and cinnamon – and explaining to Felix and his friends how to play her grandma’s enchanted version of chess. By the time the sun started to set and the café cleared out, she was so exhausted that all she wanted to do was go home, curl up by the fire, and get back to the latest instalment of Enchanted Thorns.

Mreow.

Nyx pawed at the flyer on the counter top, the one advertising Liora and Swyn’s performance that evening, and Nyssa let out a small, resigned sigh. Her quiet evening would have to wait.

‘I’m closing up now,’ she said to the one remaining customer, a teenage half-warlock named Torin with a mop of unruly dark hair and a pair of glasses constantly perched on his sharp nose.

‘Oh, yes, sorry, Mage Hawthorne.’ He began to stuff the book he’d been reading into his bag. ‘I … must have lost track of time.’

He was one of Felix’s friends, but he hadn’t left with the rest of the group. In fact, he’d been spending more and more time at the café lately, often staying until it closed. Even now, as he gathered his things, his movements were slow, as if he wanted to drag out leaving as long as possible.

Nyssa didn’t know if it was her witch instincts, or the fact that he suddenly reminded her of Noah, but she found herself asking, ‘Is everything all right, Torin?’

The warlock’s pale cheeks flushed. ‘Y-yes! Why do you ask?’ He let out a nervous chuckle. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, and his nails were bitten down to the quick. He was slim, too. A little gaunt in the cheeks.

‘You just seem to be hanging around here a lot, is all,’ she said, ‘and you don’t seem in a hurry to go home.’

Torin’s entire chest heaved with the weight of the sigh he released. ‘You noticed that, huh? I’m sorry … I just, well, home is a little quiet. It’s just me and my aunt, and she’s busy a lot of the time. I came to Nighthaven when my ma passed – she always spoke so highly of this place – but it’s … Well, I wish she were here, you know?’

Nyssa did. Torin couldn’t have been older than eighteen. Far too young to be without a mother. ‘What about the covens?’

‘Oh, I come from a family of solitary practitioners. I might go to study at one of the magic libraries, if they’ll take me, but … well, I’m still figuring stuff out.’

Nyssa thought of her grandmother’s cottage. Of Nighthaven, and how lonely it would be if she hadn’t found Liora and the others and opened up Teas and Tales. The café was slowly becoming her safe haven, a place to go when the weight of everything else got too heavy to handle. Perhaps it could be that for others, too.

‘Well, you’re welcome here any time. In fact, we’re getting busier – if you feel like doing a few shifts with us, we could get you trained up?’

The way Torin’s eyes lit up was all the confirmation Nyssa needed that she’d made the right decision. ‘Really? Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely. If you’re going to be here anyway, you might as well make some money from it! And you already know how most of the games work, and all our regular customers – you’ll be a great addition. How about you come in tomorrow at noon for a trial shift?’

‘I’d love that! Thank you. Thank you so, so much.’ Torin glanced at the windows. The sky outside had now turned completely dark, and the glistening, orange glow of street and fairy lights lit up the still bustling streets. Most evenings, Nighthaven’s streets were quiet, but tonight, on Samhain, the citizens were out enjoying the festivities. ‘I suppose I should be getting home. Blessed Samhain, Mage Hawthorne.’

‘Blessed Samhain.’ She smiled, her heart fit to bursting at the genuine smile on Torin’s face. ‘And please, call me Nyssa.’

The Pixie’s Grove was packed with almost every adult in Nighthaven.

Nyssa wove her way through the crowd, her cheeks aching from the smile that refused to leave her lips. Almost everyone was in some form of costume: Azalea was dressed as a sort of plant-woman, whilst Cain and his husband Emrys had come as the sun and the moon – they really did make an adorable pair. There was (thankfully) no sign of their daughter Clara, whose burns had been quickly healed after a trip to the apothecary, but who hadn’t returned to Teas and Tales since the unfortunate incident a few days earlier, and Nyssa managed to make her way to Alaric, Elowen, Liora and Gwen’s usual table without too much fuss.

‘Nyssa, you look amazing!’ Gwen stood to kiss Nyssa on the cheek. ‘I expected you to come as a witch, though.’