Practicing witchcraft in the woods

"Concentrate, Pan."

"Shut up, I am!"

"I can tell you're not. I have unobstructed access to your consciousness, remember?"

Pan shot the fox a withering look. Mollina only sighed. It was noon now, and Pan had not been able to manifest a single spell. Even the birds had left the small clearing out of boredom. A dull ache persisted behind her left temple. Her stomach growled. She stood then, followed by the loud pop! of stiff joints.

It was all rather pathetic, really.

“Remember, it's like a reflex. You have to feel the action, but you also have to actually let yourself perform the action," Mollina said. "Right now while you're learning, you can't hold back at all or else it won't work."

"But I'm not holding back! I want to do this!"

"Actually, you are," Tasmin said, standing up and arching into a stretch. "You're not letting yourself connect to him fully."

Pan wheeled on him. "What do you mean 'connect to him'? He isn't even here."

"It doesn't matter. You're always connected to him, regardless of where he is. That's the nature of a Binding," Mollina explained. "That connection is what nurtures your growth and allows your magic to manifest."

Pan looked helplessly between her mentor and her familiar. "So how am I supposed to do that? Just... think about him?" She asked.

"You think too much," Tasmin said dryly. "It's instinctual. When he comes to mind, how do you feel?"

Pan furrowed her brow in thought as she remembered their meeting. She could see it all just as clearly as she had the day before, though the memories came in broken flashes. The running water. Those eyes. The breathing wisteria. Those eyes. His voice in her head. Those eyes. His fur like autumn. Those eyes. His teeth at her neck. Those eyes.

Those eyes.

Those eyes that electrified her, that sparked with the light of primordial knowledge. Those eyes that had seen the world grow and change over countless eons. Those eyes that saw her, possessing her, undressing her... that saw her for what she really was.

She was afraid. Not because he would hurt her, but because he would irrevocably change her. She liked her life the way it was. She was comfortable. She was safe. She was bored. But perhaps boredom was the price you paid for happiness.

Mollina's voice snapped her out of her rumination. "See, you've got it! You're doing beautifully, Pan."

Pan looked down and saw the green of the grass beneath her feet... through her feet. She was translucent. She moved her foot to the side, and saw the grass bend beneath it. She brought her hand up to her mouth in horror, only to find her hands were afflicted as well.

"What's happening?" She demanded, looking wildly between Mollina and Tasmin. "How do I make it stop?"

"Pan, relax, it's just a spell," Mollina started, taking a step towards her.

"No, something's wrong! I'm disappearing!" She whimpered. "I have to make it stop!"

Pan felt the warm blanket of Tasmin's aura once again, but this time her mind backed away from it like a wary animal. She could hear him in her head. Pan, calm down. Please, Panphrey. Pan. Pan. Pan. But she ignored him. She tried to block him out, but no matter how hard she tried his warmth continued to seep into her consciousness.

"It's going to be all right," Mollina cooed gently as she reached out to cup Pan's face.

Without thinking, Pan smacked Mollina's hand away. In a terrifying flash of feathers and fangs, Pan was knocked to ground. Standing over her was Kethaeros, and in his bloody jaws, the taloned limb of another Great Spirit.

Maban, the Ritual Keeper, bound to Mollina of the Celadon Wilds, stood imperious over Kethaeros even as his leg bled between his teeth. He stood taller than any man, taller even then Kethaeros. With one dark wing he shielded Mollina, and with the other held threateningly over Kethaeros' head. At the wrists of his wings were several long fingers, each tipped with a talon in kind. His feathers were speckled with the color of soot, save for the stark white disk of his face. Like Kethaeros, he sported a third eye, though Maban's were blacker than night, speckled over with flecks like silver stars.

_Release me. _His voice was like a peal of thunder.

I could kill you for less. Kethaeros snarled back. He spoke clearly, though his teeth still gripped Maban's leg. It seems even the Ritual Keeper will break Sacred Law if it suits him.

Teach your mate some manners. If she raises a hand to mine again, she will lose it.

And if you raise claw to mine again, you will lose your life.

Maban and Kethaeros stared each other down for what felt like an eternity. Finally Maban turned to fix Pan with an icy glare before speaking again: Release me and remove her from my sight. I will not quarrel more with you this day.

Kethaeros opened his jaws then. Before Pan could react, she was swept up in a flurry of autumn red. She did not realize until then that she had been crying.