Chapter Text
They were just playing.
With winter drawing to a close and warmer days arriving after months of freezing blizzards and snow-covered forests, the little witches in the studio had decided to put into practice some of the spells they’d developed over the season. It wasn’t anything truly significant within the teachings of Qifrey—and Olruggio, even though he resented his role as an instructor—and since they were confined to the small space of their home and occasional visits to Kalhn, breathing the still-fresh air of the plains was well deserved.
After making sure the girls were well bundled up and had provisions in case they wanted to stay out longer, the two men let the group of witches set off for Lake Eissee, a relatively large lake located halfway between the city and the countryside where they lived.
Now then, why were they so interested in that place, and what was so special about it that the trip was worth it? The reason, for such young minds, is simple.
“How beautiful!” Tetia chirped happily. Behind her, Riche nodded, affirming her words.
“It’s not bad at all,” said Agott, hugging her glyph notebook to her chest.
“Heh, you should be more honest, Agott,” Coco teased gently. “Don’t you really think it’s beautiful?”
And how could one not, when the boundary between the fierce winter and the comforting spring blended into a single space? Grass glistening with morning dew, trees with tiny green shoots peeking through layers of snow and ice, fluffy animals darting through the vegetation while the soft sound of water seeped beneath a thick layer of ice. It was precisely this last detail that had determined their fate, since the spell they had developed only worked in specific situations.
“Even if this magic doesn’t seem to serve a purpose…” Tetia began. “If it manages to make even one person happy, then that means it isn’t useless.”
As if on an internal cue, the quartet of witches looked inside a duffel bag. After a quick examination, Riche pulled out two pairs of leather shoes. On the soles of these were a series of curves and straight lines, arranged in such a way that only by positioning the feet at a specific angle would the circle close. The theory, for the most part, had been Agott’s work, while the technique of small strokes was left to Riche. Tetia and Coco assisted with the ideas and implementation, allowing the spell to function similarly to Sylph shoes, only with different stances; after all, their idea was…
“Magic ice skates!”
For anyone accustomed to living in tundra regions or areas with long, freezing months, ice skates and similar footwear have been manufactured for decades. For that reason, there was no need to interfere with magic, much less when the non-magical version was effective enough. What’s more, even Qifrey—at Olruggio’s suggestion—had offered to give his apprentices a pair of skates upon noticing their fascination with the very idea of dancing on ice.
“We want to do it on our own!” Coco had declared, with her friends’ support. “We want to do it, but we don’t know how. And that’s exactly why we have to do it!”
How could they, two proud adults full of hope for the future of those four witches, interfere with the development of a new magic? Not everything has to have an end, and seeing a smile as a result is proof enough that they’ve done a good job. So, they didn’t stop them. They watched from a distance as the girls frowned, their shoes tapping rhythmically against the wood, and their soft snores following long days of trial and error on paper.
It was only the day before that the four felt confident enough to ask permission to test their magic in a more suitable environment—one similar to the one for which the magic was intended.
“You may go,” their master told them.
“If you need help, you know where to turn,” added the Watchful Eye of the atelier.
And without further ado, there they were: young witch apprentices experimenting with their sorcery once again. The first to go were Tetia and Agott, the latter leaving only after much insistence from the rest of the group. They swapped their shoes—ordinary ones, not flying ones, since Qifrey had told them he wanted to renew the sigils—for those with magic carved by their own hands. For the most serene—and, in turn, secretly most passionate—of the witches, Agott couldn’t help but feel nervous. What if the spell didn’t work? What if the signs were wrong and the effect was disastrous? How could she face her master with a failure in hand? How could she—?
“Agott!”
A huge smile followed by a lush mane of pink hair filled her view. Taking her by the hands, Tetia dragged her to the shore.
“Let’s go!”
Offering little resistance to the witch’s grip, both girls stared at the ice with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety.
“You can do it, girls!” Coco cheered from a little higher up.
“Hang in there,” Riche murmured beside her.
Although she didn’t want to admit it, something in Agott’s heart softened. Fear? What are you afraid of, Agott? You’re an Arklaum, you have an incredible master, and teammates… who are just as incredible. Determination filled her eyes, and her posture grew confident. One mistake now is one less mistake in the future!
“Let’s go!”
And then, the magic happened!
Having studied the theory, the girls realized that the trick with the skates wasn’t just the blade, but how it serves as a fundamental pillar in the user’s movement. Thanks to the edge, a thin, almost imperceptible fraction of the ice melts due to friction, creating a layer of water thin enough to allow gliding over it. With that in mind, the biggest question for the girls was how to replicate the blade’s effect.
“What if we just float?” Tetia had suggested.
“That wouldn’t be any different from wearing Sylph shoes,” Coco said, resting her hand on her chin with her eyes closed. “Maybe with tiny flames? At least that way we’d create the water.”
“Fire is relatively unpredictable, and considering we’ll be standing on it, one of two things will happen: it’ll go out or it’ll burn us.” At the thought of getting hurt, both Coco and Tetia shuddered. “If we rule out wind for the same reason about floating, and fire is no longer an option…”
“What if it weren’t fire, but heat?” The silence of the three witches prompted Riche to continue. “Riche really likes Master Olruggio’s spell, and since it’s heat, there shouldn’t be a problem.”
Agott blinked a couple of times in astonishment before quickly getting up to fetch her own snugstone. “Riche, you’re a genius!”
The magical principle behind the ‘magic skates’—so named until further notice—was the same as that of the snugstone, only with symbols of repetition and integration.
“Since we don’t want to permanently alter the shoes, we’ll have to create a temporary change,” Agott said as she drew the integration runes. “I can’t think of where we could get powder in the middle of a lake, but since this is just a rough draft…” Once her basic idea was finished, Agott showed it to the rest of the apprentices. “As long as we have a supply of dust nearby, it will integrate to form a small triangular rock where the spell is cast. This rock will have the properties of a snugstone, so it will melt the ice, and because of its shape, there will be less friction with the ice, making it easier to glide. Any questions?”
“Amazing!”
“That’s our Agott!”
“Agofect.”
“S-Silence!”
“It works!” A very cheerful voice, unfiltered in its excitement, exclaimed beside her. “It works, Agott, it works! We’re skating!”
To be honest, you couldn’t really call that “skating.” It looked more like a sled dog puppy learning to run on the ice, taking clumsy steps and slipping without following a set direction. It wasn’t perfect in the slightest, and I could barely call it decent, but…
“Wow…!”
Gliding with increasing ease, the cold wind against her flushed cheeks turned into a refreshing breeze against the bubbling excitement in her chest. Her confidence was reflected in a more confident posture, as she spread her arms and let the long lengths of fabric on her costume billow freely, along with her short hair. The hint of a small but genuine smile was seen by everyone else. It was no surprise to hear even more excited gasps behind her, along with the satisfied laughter of Tetia, who was standing closer.
Having her companions—friends so excited by what was, in perspective, such a small step forward—only generated more and more warmth in her chest. Was it excitement, or perhaps happiness? The genuine recognition that her magic had been created to make other people happy was gratifying to her. A selfless magic, made by and for others. It had cost her quite a bit, but after so much time with them and her masters, Agott could open up a little more to the idea that the tower wasn’t the end of the road, but just one option among many.
“Wait, wait, wait! Careful, Agott—!”
And now, she was staring at the sky. Her legs hurt, too. Wasn’t she in a somewhat strange pose? As she tried to stand up, Tetia’s embarrassed whimpers caught her attention. Silently, she waited for an explanation, which embarrassed the pink-haired witch even more.
“Uh, sorry. Did I get too carried away?”
Agott snorted. “It seems so.” From the lakeshore, the slightly hunched figures of Riche and Coco could be seen.
“Are you okay?!” Coco asked, clutching her head. Agott nodded, waving her hand to dismiss her friends’ concerns. Understanding her signal, Coco sighed. “All right… I guess it’s our turn now, isn’t it, Riche?”
The young woman with sky-blue hair nodded, clenching her fists against her chest to hold back her emotions. Soon, both Agott and Tetia returned to the shore, the latter scratching the back of her neck and muttering apologies to the former over and over again. Of course, Agott couldn’t care less, telling her not to worry and to be more careful next time. Coco couldn’t help but laugh nervously, as she saw herself reflected in Tetia in her own way, especially when recalling her first interactions with the skilled witch.
Feeling the gaze of those golden eyes, Agott held out her arm with the shoes. Coco took them with a smile, and thought she saw a delicate blush appear on her friend’s cheeks.
Yes, things were very different now, and she couldn’t have asked for a better adoptive family than the one at the atelier.
Once the shoes were in place, Coco tapped her feet a couple of times to make sure everything was okay. Riche imitated her, and they wasted no more time before returning to the frozen stage.
Just like Tetia and Agott, Riche wasn’t very used to the initial sensation of being carried away by the ice. They’ve lived most of their lives in the Great Hall, Coco thought to herself.
It was the most logical explanation. Living under the sea, things as common to surface dwellers as rain, snow, or frozen rivers and lakes were beyond their reach. The inexperience was there, even though they had been born on the knowledgeable, not the ignorant, side of the world. In her own way, and similar to other relatively everyday aspects, Coco possessed knowledge that the sorcerers—especially those from the Great Hall—lacked.
For once in a while, she could be the instructor!
Motivated by this line of thought, Coco glided quickly toward Riche, hiding her hands behind her back and leaning her body slightly forward.
Without actually touching her or offering support, Coco asked, “Do you need help?”
Much like the pair before her, Riche kept her arms in the air, waving them about in search of support where none existed. Still, the focused expression on her face kept Coco at bay. Allow yourselves to make mistakes, Master Qifrey had said. The best-received help is that which was requested.
“I’m fine…” she said without looking her in the face. “I think.”
Although he’d barely whispered it, Tetia’s cheers of encouragement echoed a few meters away. “You’ve got it, Riche! And you, Coco, you’re a real expert!”
Coco couldn’t help but wonder if she should feel flattered when compared to her beginner friends. Whatever the case, the good intentions behind Tetia’s words shouldn’t be underestimated. Glancing one last time at Riche, Coco nodded without saying anything else. If you need help, don’t hesitate. She conveyed silently.
She stepped aside to give Riche a little more room to move; Riche was still struggling a bit but was quickly getting used to the “lightness” of skating. In just under a couple of minutes, the young witch was already gliding with a bit more confidence and speed across the ice, leaving visible marks on it. Shimmering sparks fluttered beneath her feet, a sign that the magic was still active and consuming the powder reserves without issue.
Now in the distance, Coco fell deep in thought. After so many dangers, enjoying small moments like this kept her going. No, this didn’t mean she would abandon her search for a way to reverse the forbidden magic with which she had condemned her mother, should the need arise, but even for a mind as stubborn as Coco’s, she needed a few moments of relaxation before exposing herself to danger again. Everyone in the atelier, including her master, deserved it.
She was enjoying it, and so were her friends. However, she still felt that her master was missing. Yes, she knew the cruel reality of his suffering and how the mere suggestion could be counterproductive for him, but leaving him in the shadows while everyone else enjoyed the light—especially after learning his secret—seemed… sad to her.
Master Qifrey admitted that his teaching began from a place of selfishness, a way to force himself to delay the inevitable while he searched for answers about his past. Nevertheless, at some point in his work, he began to find fascination and gratification in watching his students grow. Developing into full-fledged witches, practitioners of magic with the sole purpose of making others happy.
How could someone as kind as her master—who suffered at the slightest joy in his heart—smile at them and tell them that everything would be all right? Allowing them to leave and test their magic as if nothing bad were happening?
Master Qifrey told her not to worry about it, that his fate was sealed. Knowing everything he had done for her, how could she not even be sad? And why did magic—the very thing she had fallen in love with and that had simultaneously taken everything from her—have to be so beautiful and cruel? It’s just… Why—?
Suddenly, a crackling sound.
A sound that could easily go unnoticed by a beginner, but not by someone who had been taught from a young age to respect nature.
She quickly scanned the area for the source and—
“C-Coco?”
Oh, God.
Irregular cracks—thin and thick, long and short—spread beneath the weight of Riche, who stood frozen in place. She didn’t need to be an expert to know that one false move would be enough for the ice beneath her friend to collapse.
“Riche, stay still and don’t move.”
Though she tried to maintain a neutral expression, fear began to seep into Riche’s features, who obeyed in silence. For her part, Coco crouched on the ice, distributing her weight so as not to increase the pressure on it as she approached Riche. The closer she got, the more audible the flow of water beneath them became. What should have been a soothing sound was now nothing more than a harbinger of disaster. Coco bit her lip; she couldn’t lose her composure, not if it meant putting Riche at even greater risk.
When she was just a few steps away, the blue-haired witch’s instinct was to reach out her hands toward Coco. Bad decision, since the ice began to give way more rapidly, trapping the witch.
“R-Riche, look at me,” Coco called out, her voice breaking with nerves. “I want you to crouch down very slowly and lie back against the ice, okay?” Riche looked at her for a couple of seconds; a flicker of doubt crossed her eyes for an instant. “I won’t let you fall.”
The witch’s movements were slow, punctuated by sudden pauses every time the ice creaked under the shifting weight. Once on her knees, Riche looked at Coco for further instructions. The girl licked her lip, reaching out her hand. “It won’t be long now, Riche. You’ll be fine,” she reassured her.
“Yes…” Riche murmured.
Coco was close, so close that the possibility of failing at this point clouded her judgment regarding her next moves. She reached out as far as she could, applying more pressure with her torso and knees, which served as support. Heat radiated from Riche’s skin, and the mere sensation emboldened Coco enough to reach for her quickly and pull her as if her life depended on it. Riche was pulled away, sliding to a safer spot than Coco’s current position by sheer momentum.
When she looked back, three pairs of stunned eyes watched her in silence. Their expressions hovered in a limbo between anxiety and fear, unsure of how to react to what they had just witnessed.
Still, Coco… She had done it! She had saved her friend from danger! I can finally do something! She—!
“COCO!”
The ice finally gave way beneath her feet.
Cold. A searing, stinging cold. It’s a sharp jolt, too sudden for a little girl’s body to tolerate in any way other than with a single, deep gasp. It is the natural response, the body’s reaction after losing its balance, a control mechanism desperately seeking a solution to the sudden drop in temperature from a comfortable 37°C to a paralyzing 0 degrees. However, she is underwater, and opening her mouth only allows the water to rush into her lungs, which are begging for a mere breath of oxygen.
Her heart beats hard, too violently not to hurt. Her conscious mind, somewhere between confused and alert, demands that her muscles move, move and let her return to the surface, not let her sink deeper and deeper into the darkness, so she can go back and continue her journey because, God, she hasn’t worked this hard for this.
Her body doesn’t listen to her. Worse still, it seems completely disconnected from her mind, clouded by the lack of oxygen in her lungs—which has been replaced by the ghostly sensation of a burn inside her chest. She has no air left, no strength, and all the pain that until a few moments ago was consuming her quickly fades, replaced by a numbness she can no longer even recognize as her own.
She cannot tell up from down. They are black and white, white and black; the contrast between the surface and the depths blurs like the faint rays of sunlight that accompany her as her descent continues.
It is neither hot nor cold. She has no body to command, no lungs to breathe with. She is nothing more than a shell floating in the void, incapable of doing anything but go with the flow.
Finally, calm settles in. A serenity unbecoming of a drowning girl. Everything seems fine, as if whatever is happening at that very moment were nothing more than something that had to happen. There is no reason to resist—why should she when the pain has already vanished?
And it is no longer just the pain, but also the rest of the sensations that no longer belong to her being.
There is no noise, no pain, no smells, and, above all, no colors. After all, black and white are nothing more than the presence or total absence of light. There is nothing left to feel and nothing left to fight for.
But even in the darkest depths, there is no way Coco cannot distinguish black from that intense shade of blue.