For as much as a witch would say she could control her magic and had such power, it seemed more like a witch guided the magic. Guided it into doing what she needed. A witch could give magic a purpose, the magic and the elements only needing a good bit of guidance...
She was never good at any ofthat, because… Well, she didn’t really know, but she was never really sure about being a town witch. So… probably that. Being a witch meant responsibility and duty and a maturity she would never be able to manage.
So, what had her mother intended, when they left town? Deep in her heart, the thing she hadn’t actually meant to do... because there was no way her mother had meant to trap the entire town for fifteen years. Deep down, what had her mother feared? What could her actions have inevitably been caused by?
The obvious answer was the reaction of the town, that they would blame Violet. The second answer was probably that the town would act to save the actual pack, and not the individual. And finally… She probably meant to keep dangers out so they couldn’t harm all those within.
The last one was an old one, as far as she was aware, although the fact hunters had been allowed access made her question things, question the arguments between her mother and Mr. Reeve. What had he feared, and what had he known?
More questions, but today wasn’t about questions. Today was about answers.
The town magic, the magic of the earth, the magic of the elements, needed a bit of guiding. The town line needed to be opened up, so that the inhabitants could come and go freely. No more of this, what was in their heart, garbage. No one should be trapped. The pack would never be able to thrive while so many were unable to live their lives.
And she needed others to be able to come in freely, like witches. She had a sneaking suspicion that any witch who had tried to visit before her had been rejected, thanks to their own desires rather than following any goals of the pack. If Violet had to choose a side, not that there were sides, but... she would always choose Garoureve.
She wasn’t much of a witch, anyways.
Her idea was simple, in the most basic of ways. Intention was what mattered most, and so, she went back to one of her mother’s favorite tricks... A simmer pot.
Did she feel a little stupid walking to the edge of town with a travel mug filled with water and fruit and dried spices? Yes, of course she did. It was a stupid idea. The stupidest of ideas.
But her mother often said that the herbs were never a magical answer, save for their healing properties. No, the herbs were always about direction. They didn’t actually have any magical abilities, but, if you took a few herbs that represented welcoming and warmth and peace, and bundled them together...
She was working with the bare minimum, though, of what was on hand in her mother’s house, so sassafras, mugwort, and garlic greens would have to do. She would bury those in the ground by the welcome to Garoureve sign, pour out the simmer pot liquid, and just... wait.
This was a stupid idea, but, it seemed like the more she just gave up and kept it simple, the more things seemed to listen.
It wasn’t like a witch actually had magic that came from within themselves... simply... an ability to control the elements around them. Sort of...
The town line was looking cold and desolate as she approached, and she considered trying to step over the line, but resisted. There was every good chance that she wouldn’t be able to actually do it, couldn’t fix things, and what if she was wrong about everything? What would she do if she was trapped on the other side? What if she made it worse?
She would stand behind the sign, and get no closer.
“I really hope this works,” Violet said to herself as she approached, and reached into her mother’s worn satchel bag for the spade and bundle of herbs she had brought with her. “And I really hope you’re listening, magic.”
Magic didn’t have ears, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t talk this through.
“Alright. It’s time to open this town line up. No more keeping people trapped here. No more keeping connections from outside out. I want cell service. I want people going freely back and forth. I want kids to be able to access public schools. Come on. We’re going to fix this.”
Sinking down onto her knees, she began to dig, just deep enough that the bundle would be covered under a shallow amount of dirt.
“Sassafras, for choices. Give people the choice to leave. Mugwort, for tranquility. Give this town peace. Garlic, yes for protection, but also for healing. This town, the line, needs to expand. The pack areas need to expand. I don’t know how this works, but we need this town to return to its former strength, and that means...”
She didn’t know what it meant, but she let out a long sigh as she patted the earth, then opened the lid on the mug.
“Open this town up. I want this town line to open. No more keeping people trapped. No more evaluating people on whether or not they might leave. Everyone will come back eventually, if they’re meant to. Even I came back after all this time. Open the town. Make it a welcome space for the paranormal once more.”
She poured the contents on the ground in front of her, and stared at the wedge of orange, slices of apple, sticks of cinnamon, and assorted cloves. Was this even going to work? Was she completely stupid? Should she test it to find out?
“Come on,” she whispered as she stared at the ground. “I know I’m not much of a witch, but you’re supposed to listen to us, be guided by us. I’m guiding you into freeing this pack. Are you listening?”
A gust of wind flowed around her, ruffling her morning hair, and she leaned back, soaking in the cold. Was that the town... or was that simply an early winter chilly breeze?
It looked like she would never know.
Replacing the lid on the travel mug, Violet opened the satchel to drop it and the spade back inside, when she noticed something... blinking. What the hell was blinking in her mother’s bag? It had been empty when she grabbed it, earlier, and threw the items within. Was that her... was that her cell phone?
Violet pulled her phone from the bag and stared at it, confused. There was no way her phone should be in this bag. It had been sitting on the dresser at Ansa’s house, because there was no phone service, so no point in keeping up with it. Why did she have notifications? Why did she have... missed calls?