Chapter Text
Inside a fragile shell, a life awaited.
From a nest atop a branch
to the hands of a kind passerby,
The egg remained unaware.
Its world had changed,
Yet it did not know
That its life had already been altered
before it had even begun.
When came the first crack and slip of light
against the only darkness it had known,
To the stranger, it will run.
The only home it will ever know.
The cold crawls through my skin. I lift my weightless body, intending to shake it off, only to be met and bewildered by the moon.
It was my earliest memory.
I never knew the moon could shine so brightly... so beautifully.
Framed by the window. It's like an eye watching me.
My mind is as light as a feather, and it wandered, following the light of the moon. It introduced me to this cramped and bland world of a stranger.
A quiet voice cut through the stillness of the night.
Named me.
I turned and was met by a girl. Whose appearance resembles the night sky—or was the moon herself. Upon seeing her, something inside of me awakened — waiting, anticipating. And through her eyes I find my existence. Against this dulled, dark room, her purple light that reflected within her dark eyes bloomed like a lilac centered in a monochrome painting.
Every second after that expands; it's a new experience all around.
Every thumping of the chest, release of breath, and her slowed—fast footstep screamed through my ears. Before I knew it, her arms were already wrapped around me.
It was warm and welcoming.
The uneasy cold faded, along with whatever came before her.
In this small, messy, unfamiliar room, in a house whose location I did not know, I somehow knew I was home.
No one warned me how fragile that comfort truly was.
It lasted only a moment before my naïve curiosity slipped carelessly from my mouth.
Then I slowly saw it.
Through her now glistening eyes, something inside her broke.
Disbelief twisted across her face. Then she dropped to the floor, crouched into herself, and unleashed thunder that shook the entire room.
An uncomfortable feeling rose within me.
Grass slowly grew beneath my feet, replacing the wooden floor with dirt and green.
muddy and dirty.
Loud thumping echoed from outside the door. Soon, strangers came rushing in, only to freeze at the threshold.
Walls and furniture somehow vanished, and Trees and plants appeared, surrounding us. The sky lay open above, while clouds and the night bore witness.
Judging the scenes unfold.
What will the enchanted forest do to an outsider who sets foot upon its land?
They didn’t blame me.
But I watched the same scene happen more than once; they tried to give me the same kind and warm welcome they could, though it seems it's also as thin and fragile as the first.
Another color lit from the shades deep in the forest.
A pink peony revealed itself.
A girl with soft pink hair looked at me, tears spilling free no matter how desperately she tried to hold them back. She reached for my hand with both of hers—warm and shaking—and gently squeezed, as if afraid I would disappear.
“It’ll be alright,” she said, her voice trembling with every hitch in her breath.
She repeated it.
Beside her hid a soft blue hydrangea.
A smaller girl with long hair cascading like a waterfall clung tightly to her side, wiping her tears on her sleeve as she quietly sobbed.
The man with white hair carried the girl—Agott, I heard it once. It suited her—and she clung to him, still crying but more calm now.
The other girls followed behind him, not letting go of my arm.
We walked deeper into the forest.
We gathered in what seemed to be the living room of the house.
A few hazy, confusing conversations later, I discern that this family is mourning.
And it's I who brought them the death of their loved one.
They were mourning the death of me.
Passed through the endless trees, at the heart of the forest, a river presented itself.
Its current was strong, violently crashing against the rocks and stones along the banks as water splashed in great waves. Beside it stood the remains of an old, crumbled bridge, its broken pieces scattered across the dirt and into the river.
My head began to ache. My mind naturally drifts to fish for information.
What did these people like?
What had I done to make them this sad?
There was nothing before the moon; there was no sun that set or dawn that rose before it.
My head rang.
A hand settled on my shoulder and squeezed me back to the present.
I looked up, Master Qiffrey hunched over me, shading me from the light behind him, and he wore a smile that seemed to know what I was thinking.
There was one thing I was sure of then….
That these people are kind.
His light blue eyes saw through me and held mine as he spoke in the softest, gentlest voice I had ever heard and didn't know I needed then.
“It's okay, Coco.” Hearing my name, it sounds like a promise.
My heart ached for the affection I could no longer remember if I deserved.
Who would cross a bridge of no return? Especially with these people on the other side?
Why did I?
A tiny gleam of purple flashed across, and my heart skipped a beat hopefully.
Agott turned around right away as soon as I met her eyes.
The river gushed and crashed against the rocks once again, threatening.
Passed from it, beyond it bloomed a beautiful lilac, a peony, a hydrangea, and two distinguishable big trees that seemed to be protecting the flowers.
another feeling stirred in me, a desire, closer to greed. It's so strong that I wouldn't have minded taking a swim.
Does Coco know what magic is?
Yes…?
Can she do magic?
Probably? She’s supposed to be a witch after all
What does she feel about it?
“...”
“Coco?” Master Qiffrey called.
Coco jolted. She did not realize she had dozed off during Master Qiffrey’s lesson, maybe because they kept reintroducing it to her since this morning. Did she get bored with it?
Master Qiffrey stares at her, concerned.
He reminded Coco of Tetia, who had been touring her through the atelier all day, showing her all kinds of magic contraptions necessary to make the atelier a suitable living space.
At the end of every presentation, her face will be blanked off, and before Coco could ask, she will return to the smiley face she usually wore, but noticeably more tired than before.
Observant she is, Coco could not help but spot it.
Like how she caught onto her professor's pained expression right now.
Maybe their magic toilet is special?
Maybe magic was supposed to be more sacred for them? Is she being ignorant right now?
Aren’t they supposed to be common for witches?
Should Coco have been more excited?
Everything she saw so far was ordinary magic she was sure everyone knew how to use.
Isn’t that supposed to be the point? For it to be accessible? Common? They witches, right?
“Coco, do you want to try doing a spell?” Qiffrey asked.
She..?
Will draw a spell?
Can she do that?
Though even after seeing magic as something ordinary and necessary or mundane, and though being called a witch. Coco never thought it would be easy; for her, it's one of the distant stars.
But right now it felt like the star is inside her,
How amazing it is not just to touch the star but to be the one to create one.
She nodded a little shyly. Master Qifrey handed her a circular pad that she guessed was also hers, considering it was already used and some of its pages were torn out.
Then the pen fell so naturally into her palm and settled between her fingers as if it had a mind of its own. She lifted it, hovering over the paper. Waiting for Master Qiffrey’s command.
Qifrey tilted his head slightly, one hand at his chin, the other folded across his chest. “The mind may forget, but the body remembers,” he muttered to himself.
“What should I draw, professor?” Coco asked.
“Anything you think of, is there anything you want to try out since the lesson started?”
Honestly, Coco might have been too drowsy to listen; part of her wonders what's wrong with her.
Maybe because, as a witch, magic was a big part of life, and now that she had forgotten it all, it's like having a hole in her brain, and it weighed heavily on her mind... and also heart.
Magic was already comprehensible to begin with, and now that she has to relearn it, it's overwhelming.
Coco exhaled, tried to relax her mind and body.
Anything I want to do…? She thinks, closing her eyes.
Unbidden pictures flash on her mind.
A black paw clawed onto the wall.
Falling feathers and the silhouette of a boy.
A root of a tree and silver leaves scattered beside it.
She opened her eyes...!
She didn’t realize she had begun holding her breath as she lifted the pen, preparing to draw.
A crystal likes stones gleamed brightly in the night sky.
A translucent ghost hand slipped through Coco's hand, and it moved on its own.
Then, suddenly, someone snatched the paper away, causing the spell to be ruined, and the pen cut through a considerable number of pages.
Master Qiffrey held the notebook away from her reach, and Coco turned to him, confused.
“How about a water spell?” He suggested, far too casual and fast for someone suddenly grabbing his pupil's spell.
“What’s wrong with that one, professor?” Coco doesn't even have an idea what she drew.
The professor smiled, which didn't quite reach his eyes, “Nothing, they were just a bit of a mistake that might not make the spell work properly,” he paused, Coco didn't know why, but she felt a chill down her spine. “Can I ask why you think of drawing this one?” Qiffrey continued.
The question felt strangely accusing.
Did I really draw that? Coco thought to herself, but even she watches herself do it.
But what's more important is what it is and what is really wrong with it.
Suddenly, something blinded Coco; a brief glimmer of light shone from outside the window of their workplace.
When she turned to look, it was gone.
"What's wrong, Coco?" Master Qiffrey asked, worriedly.
The professor didn't even catch the light; Coco must have it wrong.
"Nothing," Coco said before she turned away from the window once again.
Professor Qiffrey sighed and gave her a tired smile, seemed to Coco that he was being considerate of her possible weird antics due to the amnesia she had suffered.
But is that really it?
Qiffrey ended the class.
When they told Coco she was a witch, she had already expected this to happen.
She saw it as being gifted a pair of ballet shoes, beautiful and heartwarming, but it was considerably unnecessary. Coco was not a dancer.
But under a weight of their proud gaze, she can't do anything, in fact. She even believe if they really thought so, then she is one, the thought is liberating. It formed a sense of dignity in being a witch.
But now that she accepted and wore the pointed hat, it was heavy and hard. Like a shiny helmet of a knight.
...
That night after dinner, Coco had gone to bathe before preparing for sleep. Naturally, she looked into the mirror—a simple habit, the routine of an ordinary girl.
The sight ran a chill down her spine.
Coco did not know what she looked like. Worse, she did not know that she didn’t know.
The only thing she saw was the unfamiliar scar splattered across her cheek. It was so foreign, so ugly, so large, and so intimidating that everything else blurred around it.
She slowly ran her finger along the scar, hoping her mind was simply playing another cruel trick on her.
For the first time, Coco understood why looking at her felt the same as looking at a ghost. A dead person.
Gradually, she calmed down, and the rest of her features began to clear.
Finally, she saw Coco staring back at her.
The scar began to itch.
She swallowed down the unfamiliar feelings rising inside her as her nails traced the rough bumps of dried wounds.
She still can't see herself.
Coco ran to her bed.
Unbeknownst to her, it was only the beginning.
