Teagan wove through the crowded sidewalks of Wystira’s Academy. Her lectures were done for the day, and her head ached from all the information thrown her way. She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to the course load. After her mother died, Teagan had decided to follow in her footsteps to become a healer witch and return to Lefora and put her own services to use. Lefora had Maradin already, but there was always room for more healers in a town.
Most of the people in Wystira were witches. Some were born with a particular affinity for the elements or accessing the spirit realm where Wystira’s Goddess resided and ruled. Some, like Teagan’s mother, used traditional means of healing as well as guidance from the Goddess and channeled energy from the spiritual plane. The Academy in Tyras, Wystira’s capital, offered a wide range of studies, both of the magical and non-magical variety. The non-magical options included history, engineering, and art, among others.
Teagan’s mother had firmly believed that witchery was for everyone, as long as they had good intentions. She’d always made sure Teagan knew the witch’s path was a choice, even though she’d been brought up as a witch’s daughter and it was the natural course of action to apprentice with her mother.
Teagan had wanted to pursue a different path when she was younger, to become a world-renowned inventor. But then her mother died and all she could think about was honoring the woman’s life.
Still, she wished the classes would get easier.
Teagan had the rest of the day off, and she intended to leave her studies behind for a moment and visit the city’s markets. Since she’d moved to Tyras and begun her classes, she hadn’t had much time to herself. She’d preferred that, in the beginning, when the memories of her mother were still too close to the surface, but now she’d been here for almost four months and she’d hardly seen any of it. When she’d taken the steam-powered train into Tyras, she’d gone straight to the academy.
She soaked up her surroundings now as she made her way into the heart of the city. If Wystira was anything, it was the intersection of modernity and magic. This was a country founded on not just witchery, but innovation. Steam-powered engines cut through the countryside, decorating the landscape alongside forests and rivers and mountains. Machines flew through the air, balloons rose high above the city’s tallest roofs, and carriages were no longer only pulled by horses. Inventions made everyday life easier, while magic kept the people connected to their Goddess. Kept them in health and heart and happiness. Though not everyone worshiped her anymore, most understood there was more to life than what they could see and hear and feel.
Teagan felt the magic all around her, the energy from spells that crackled through the noise, the scent of harmona in the air. In her small town, she’d lived so far apart from anyone else; she’d never experienced such an open display of witchery. Through a window in a cottage, she could see a pot being stirred on its own, while an invisible cook chopped vegetables. A street performer blew into their hands and a flock of butterflies burst from their palms to fly around those gathered to watch. Another read cards for those brave enough to seek out their fates. Teagan didn’t like the cards; she preferred not knowing her future. She wanted to live every day as it came.
A part of her wondered if the knowing would help ease grief, when it was time, but she didn’t think it was worth it.
A sudden gust of wind brought a chill, and Teagan wrapped her cloak tightly around herself. It was nearing winter, when fresh blankets of snow would cover the ground and the trees and the buildings. They got snow in Lefora, but not nearly as much as Tyras did, going by the stories from older students. She was almost looking forward to it, though she knew she’d resent the cold in time.
After Teagan turned a corner, she stood in an open square surrounded by shrubbery and flowers. It was a garden in the middle of the city, and it would have been out of place were it not for all the people gathered around. Couples and families had settled blankets on the open ground under the autumn sunlight, the shade the trees offered in summer no longer sought. Benches were spaced throughout the garden, and proud statues lined the path as she ventured further. The path led her to the centerpiece of the garden: a gigantic fountain depicting the Goddess.
The Goddess was shown as a young woman, with long hair braided with flowers and a smile on her face. Sometimes she was depicted without a smile, as if people wanted to remember her as the serious, powerful heroine who saved the world from darkness. In this sculptor’s rendering, a star was also held upright in her open palms. “The star glows at night,” a passerby remarked to their companion.
As Teagan looked around, she saw a goddess of her own. The woman to her right bit her lip and stared at an easel with a canvas in front of her, the fountain and garden drawn vividly in broad strokes of color. Teagan couldn’t tear her eyes from her, and her staring must have drawn the woman from her concentration. She turned toward Teagan, paintbrush in hand, specks of color on her shirt and on her fingers. She didn’t seem to mind the paint splatters. Her expression had been furrowed in concentration, but now it was cleared in friendly greeting. She was stunning; long, golden hair and bright blue eyes, a top lip that was slightly larger than the bottom. There was also a very small, almost unnoticeable scar above her left eye. Teagan desperately wanted to know how she got that.
“Beautiful,” Teagan breathed.
The woman beamed, looking at her artwork. “Thank you.” Teagan hadn’t been talking about the painting, though yes, it was beautiful as well. “Are you an artist too?”
“A healer, or I will be.”
“Ah, a student of Wystira’s fine academy, huh? Have you always lived here, or no—you’ve the look of someone seeing this garden for the first time. Where are you from originally?”
“Lefora,” Teagan replied.
“I have not heard of Lefora.”
Teagan went to say that it wasn’t worth knowing, but that wasn’t true. Lefora was simply overlooked except by those who loved it. “It’s a wonderful little town in the south.”
“Then I must visit someday.”
“I’d gladly show you around.” Even though there was nothing in Lefora to really show her. Teagan wanted to groan at her shaky flirtation skills. It’d been a while since she’d had the energy to spend on romantic relationships; she found she was nervous and worried she didn’t know what to say anymore.
The woman smiled widely at her, and the nerves disappeared. “I’m Cress.”
“Teagan.”
“Well, Teagan, I’d gladly show you around Tyras, if you’d like.” She grinned mischievously. “After all, it wouldn’t be right for you to offer, and not myself.”
Teagan nearly giggled at that, but she closed her mouth and simply nodded. Cress packed her things and led the way back into the city proper, Teagan following closely at her side. Cress showed Teagan her favorite markets and restaurants, places she would have never discovered on her own. They talked about anything and everything. Teagan felt so comfortable and safe with this woman that she found herself mentioning her mother and how much she missed her, why she was studying medicine at the academy. Cress spoke of art and the whirlwind of city life, of long nights spent in a creative daze. Teagan hung on every word from her lips, her attention never wavering. And when night fell, Teagan didn’t want to go back to her dorm room—she wanted to stay in this moment, this day, with Cress.
Cress took her hand, threading their fingers together. Teagan’s stomach fluttered at the touch, and she worried her palms would sweat. “There’s a special spot I’d like to show you.” Cress tugged her down more streets until they came to a large building that overshadowed everything else in its vicinity. “This is my family’s home.” Teagan worried at first; she’d only just met Cress and it was too soon to meet her family too. But Cress only took her through the house to get to the balcony in the back.
Teagan leaned against the iron-wrought balustrade in awe. Tyras was laid out before her, all shining lights and soft music and warm laughter. Teagan looked over, and Cress was staring at her, an intensity in her eyes that kindled a fire in Teagan.
“You’re so beautiful. I want to paint you,” Cress said, her voice soft and full of promise. Teagan wasn’t sure about beautiful; she’d let her straight brown hair grow to her shoulders, her clothes were plain and worn, and her face was so thin, a hollowness that she didn’t think made her look striking at all. Still, Teagan couldn’t find it within herself to say no. She settled into her spot, her arms on the balcony and her face upturned toward the waxing crescent moon.
Cress smiled at her, so warm and lovely that it took her breath away. Teagan knew, even then, she’d follow that smile anywhere.