Chapter Text
Coco remembers a beautiful field of white flowers.
A rusty iron fence, with a garden full of graves on the other side.
She also recalls a gentle lullaby, softly humming through the air around her.
She remembers the full moon. And a silent weeping.
Due to her age, the details were hazy and intertwined. Revolted. When she tries to recall things, Coco's mind plays tricks on her, making her think some of them didn't happen, or were imagined, or simple exaggerations. After all, in her mother's words, Coco has always been a very imaginative child, finding fairies jumping in puddles or dragons in the shadows, created by candlelight reflections on the wall. And, alongside all those thoughts, there was that particular memory of her running around a field of white flowers that was on an island up in the air.
Details vary, but she was very young, and the first time she dreamed of it happened just days before her father passed away from illness. Coco doesn't remember his face, but she does remember his voice, more or less. Her mother described how he looked and what he was like, hoping to give the little girl at least a picture of him. Patient and keen, he was known to others as someone who always lent a hand. Coco got her grass-green hair and nose shape from him, and her mother often remarks that the way her eyes sparkle with curiosity resembles her father's when he was younger.
Coco wonders if her mother's grief when her father died caused her to see his face in Coco.
On rare occasions, Coco would open her mother's closet and find her father's clothes folded and untouched. Her mother had never dared to throw them away or sell them, so they still lay there. The smell of stored silk and dust brought a nostalgic sting to Coco's eyes, though she didn't know why, and she remembered being suspended in the air by arms that had no face—or name—attached to them, as she laughed and marveled at imitating a bird while she was enveloped by the feeling of being loved.
Coco's mother said her father's true inheritance was a curiosity to gaze at every corner of the world, in hopes of finding hidden secrets. Coco's father was no scholar; from humble origins, he barely received an average education, knowing how to read and write and nothing more. But he was always interested in the world, how it worked.
At the very end, her mother wouldn't let Coco visit his room often, so Coco mostly remembers that he was in bed, with the doors closed. She saw him more as a sickly, mysterious figure in bed than as her father. All of the doctors who checked on him didn't have answers about what illness he had or how to heal him, so after months, he died sometime during the night, peacefully in his sleep.
The next day was hazy: people came into their home—friends and relatives, she thinks, people Coco didn't know. They talked to her, asking how she was feeling and offering words of reassurance. Coco only nodded, unsure what else to say, and then they told her to be strong for her mother's sake. To that, Coco nodded again, but this time she meant it; her mother had always been a rock, but lately, Coco had caught her crying in her room at night. If her mother needed her, Coco would be the rock for her this time.
A carriage came, pulled by a couple of big, pretty horses. Not like the big, fancy ones she could see from time to time, the kind rich people rode into the store, but one like the farmers used to carry hay around. But instead of hay, it carried a big brown box.
"A coffin," one of the people—a neighbor—looking after Coco told her while her mother chatted with others in her father's room. They wouldn't let Coco in—adult conversation, they said—and Coco had to wait for them to come out; her mother in front, with two of the nearby farmers carrying something heavy wrapped in white sheets. Seeing it, Coco both knew and didn't know what they were carrying.
They opened the crate and placed the bundle, wrapped in white sheets, inside. Then they closed it, and the horses began to move forward. Someone carried Coco and placed her on their shoulders, and they walked until they reached the cemetery. They lowered the crate and dragged it to a hole already dug in the center of the group of gravestones. Coco watched with wide eyes; this was the first time she had ever seen a burial. It was so interesting to watch them carefully lower the crate, to hear a man in long robes say something Coco didn't understand, and to see them begin to pile the dirt back up the hole.
They had already laid Coco on the ground, and there her mother took her hand, looking ahead with tears in her eyes. Coco wanted to go home. She hadn't had breakfast and was hungry.
"Say goodbye to your father, Coco," her mother said, pointing to the grave. "He loved you very much."
Coco bit her lip, feeling uncertain, but she raised her hand and waved at the box anyway. "Goodbye," she said, wondering if it wouldn't be too difficult to get out of the box with all the dirt on top of it.
Coco doesn't remember feeling sad at her father's death—only that later that day, when she came downstairs after they returned from the cemetery and everyone else had left, a feeling of unease washed over her as she hid behind the kitchen door, watching her mother sit on the floor, sobbing and covering her face with both hands. That picture is still, to this day, so vivid that if Coco closes her eyes, she can recall how her mother sounded as she cried, the smell of charcoal in the kitchen air, and her own eyes stinging as she watches, without understanding why she wants to cry as well.
Coco tries not to feel guilty about remembering her first dream in that huge, open field of flowers, better than her father's face.
That night, after going to bed, Coco reminisced about floating over a sea of fog, feeling euphoric from a bird's-eye view, even though her surroundings were mostly hidden. She giggled, spun around, and laughed again, feeling carefree and happy. At that moment, she wasn't sure if she was dreaming—she was simply focused on reaching out to touch the clouds around her.
"Wow!" she screamed, going up and down between the clouds.
After flying aimlessly for a while, Coco suddenly fell, as if some invisible strings holding her had been cut, but she wasn't afraid of falling; she just closed her eyes and laughed as the wind tickled her. When she hit the ground, she felt no pain, as if she'd landed on a soft mattress. Once she stopped bouncing, Coco got up laughing some more and opened her eyes.
The field of white flowers was what greeted her, but what demanded her gaze the most was what was in the sky.
Before she woke up, Coco saw a moon so beautiful, so clear. So close to the ground and to her. Then she blinked and found herself back in her bed, the sun peeking through her window, announcing morning to her.
Coco told her mother about her dream and her wish to fly again. Her mother offered a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, the expression strangely making her look more sad than happy. Coco felt strange upon seeing that, innocently asked her mother why she looked sad, but her mother only stroked her hair and reassured her that she wasn't sad. Coco frowned at that but said nothing else, thinking it was because of her father.
The next night, Coco would fall asleep excitedly, thinking she would dream that wonderful dream again, only to be disappointed by waking up the next morning in her bed, with no memory of the sky or moon.
The days passed, which turned into months, and months into more months, until Coco woke up to that foggy sky again. As the days went by, Coco's mother stopped looking so sad, but she spent much more time at work, so Coco couldn't ask her to play with her often.
With few kids around to play with, Coco began to feel lonely.
Nothing happened that Coco could point to as something she had done differently that was preventing her from repeating the dream, so she was surprised when, one night like any other, she went to bed and, immediately after closing her eyes, she opened them to find she wasn't in her room. Instead of seeing a wooden ceiling, a cloudy sky greeted Coco.
She knew this sky, but she wasn't flying, to her disappointment. No worries! What she saw quickly made her forget that.
Last time, the moon demanded all of Coco's attention, so she couldn't see the field of white flowers clearly, but this time she could admire how beautiful they truly were: flowers everywhere, unlike anything Coco had ever seen, surrounded her, with moonlight reflecting off them and creating a glow as if each flower held a light inside. They looked so pretty that Coco thought they belonged on a canvas like the ones sold at the town's fair.
Coco couldn't resist, as she walked around the field, jumping and laughing as she tried to catch the petals lifted by the cool breeze. She was barefoot, but as she ran, Coco didn't feel any thorns or stones scratching her feet or legs. The grass felt like cotton, and the air made Coco feel as if she were underwater, as if she could float if she wished to.
As Coco prepared to run even further, she stopped. Something was in the way. "Huh?" she said.
Strangely, beyond, as if it were a freshly painted canvas wet with water, the landscape took on a blurry shape that kept her from seeing any more of the field, like a waterfall falling in slow motion. Maybe she was inside a painting, after all.
Coco tilted her head in confusion before blinking once and finding herself waking again, lying on her bed. The scent of the white flowers and the breeze lingered even after.
At breakfast, Coco asked her mother whether there was a flower that matched the color and shape of the one she saw in her dream. Her mother replied that she couldn't think of any plant that resembled it, but added that she wasn't a florist. She then told Coco to finish her breakfast since they would head to town later.
When they arrived, Coco went from stall to stall, asking vendors and merchants about the white flower, but they just looked at her strangely, then laughed and patted her head. She pouted, drawing even more laughter.
"Nothing like that exists, missy. Or at least not around here. They sound like one of 'em spells that witches fancy themselves with."
Coco tried to insist, paying no heed to the last part they said, but her mother called her from a nearby vegetable stand, warning her not to go too far and risk getting separated, so Coco left the stall.
Behind her, she could still hear the florist speaking to himself, "Shiny and white, huh. With that description, those flowers might as well exist only in dreams."
This time, Coco didn't have to wait months to visit the field of flowers. Even better, when she opened her eyes, she could see more clearly around her than before, so she was surprised to find at the foot of a hill the gigantic tree, dominating the surroundings. Coco looked at it for a moment, admiring how it stretched toward the sky, with the moon in perfect symmetry above the highest branches, as if it were posing, resting at the top.
For a moment, Coco had the urge to try to climb the huge tree, as she did in the forest near her home, but even if she wanted to, the lowest branches were still out of her reach.
If only she could fly again. Coco wondered, then knelt, tensing her legs. With a defiant squeak of a scream, she jumped as high as she could. However, instead of soaring, gravity quickly pulled her down, and she fell back to the ground.
Turning around, she also found that many new wooden posts were scattered across the field, their purpose one she couldn't fathom, though they reminded her of scarecrow stands—minus the scarecrow—she usually saw in the fields outside the town. Once again, Coco turned her gaze intently to the tree's vast expanse reaching toward the sky, and everything else seemed to fall silent. The gentle breeze, which, as before, carried the scent of flowers, now seemed shy in Coco's presence.
Had more time passed in silence, Coco would have begun to feel frightened, but the stillness allowed her to hear an almost indistinct voice drifting toward her. Something like a hum, gentle and welcoming, from a woman's voice, sending Coco into a trance, mesmerized by its cottony quality.
She was not alone! Coco turned around and looked everywhere, trying to find the source of the sound, but it seemed to come from all directions. Even worse, when she gazed at the edge of the dream, it was once again enveloped in the same blurry haze, obscuring everything beyond the field and the tree.
Still, filled with tenacity or stubbornness inherited from her mother, and determined to find the mysterious owner of the voice, Coco decided to run to the edge that marked the boundary between what she could see and what she couldn't. She ran, thinking she wouldn't make it before waking up, but no, Coco reached it, standing just a few steps away, closing her eyes and waiting expectantly to be pulled out of the dream.
Nothing came, so she opened them, squinting to make out beyond the strange glass-paint-waterfall barrier.
A memory flashed through her mind: One time, Coco went to wash clothes by the river with her mother. The rocky ground was wet, so she tripped and fell in. Fortunately, the water was very shallow, but Coco still remembers seeing her mother's figure approaching on the surface to help her. Her reflection appeared blurry and wobbly, resembling jelly, so when her mother grabbed her arms and pulled her out, Coco couldn't help but laugh, completely soaked.
"Mom, you looked funny!" Coco said, before laughing some more.
It was like that. Coco could see there were shapes on the other side, something beyond. She recognized the colors and shapes of what appeared to be a rusty iron fence as it came into view, since it was the closest object on the other side.
Coco found similarities to the fence enclosing the town's cemetery, which she visited with her mom. She said goodbye to her father there.
She blinked, and just like that, she was awake once more.
It became a little secret game for Coco, wondering when she would wake up again in the field of flowers and what new thing would appear. Her mother was puzzled, since before it had been a grueling task to get Coco to go to sleep early, but now she didn't even have to remind her to go to bed. Coco was already tucked in before her mother could open her mouth.
Coco never understood what triggered the dream's appearance: sometimes it would happen after a few weeks, other times months would pass. She could only fly during her first dream, but with each subsequent dream, the experience became more vivid and real. The scents, the sensation of walking and seeing—all became sharper and more lifelike.
That only made Coco more excited; she felt as if she were getting closer and closer to… something. Didn't matter what. More importantly, that thick barrier that kept Coco from seeing beyond the field shifted, allowing her to see more and more.
As she suspected, a black, rusty fence covered in vines appeared, marking the boundary of the field of flowers. Much of the fence was covered with bushy vines and other vegetation, including smaller flowers, making it even harder to make out what lay beyond. Coco walked in hopes of finding some sort of door or an end to it, something that could lead her to the other side, but it wasn't until after a couple of dreams that the gate was revealed. Coco couldn't open it, no matter how hard she tried. She had no choice but to be patient.
And patient she was, as months passed before the graves were outside the barrier. Coco wasn't particularly thrilled at the discovery, even though she already suspected it was a cemetery.
Along with the tombstones, more flowers appeared on the other side as well, beautiful and bright, just like the white ones outside, only in different colors and shapes, both of which she had never seen before. Coco also began to notice the stone statues decorating the graves—she supposed they were saints or protective figures, but her mother was not very religious, so Coco didn't really know much about them.
Some of them were shaped as people, others as birds or animals, and the eeriest of them all had the form of creatures she couldn't say were… well, something—or anything—in particular, as they looked like insects, with multiple arms and legs, small tentacles surrounding a head maybe too big, similar to an octopus, and dozens of eyes distributed everywhere. In Coco's experience, the statue seemed more like whoever made it had no intention of capturing anything other than a child's nightmare.
That woman's humming never returned, making Coco feel discouraged, even though she was sure it had come from somewhere around the fence, so the next time she woke up in the field again, she'd take a couple of minutes to listen around.
It wasn't heard again, but as she looked up at the full moon, Coco managed to catch something else, so soft it almost passed as a faint sound.
Sobs. The voice wasn't familiar; it was a man's. Coco guessed he was an old man; his crying brought back memories of her mother, sitting alone on the kitchen floor, and of fearful Coco watching her, unsure what to do. It was the kind of silent sobbing they tried to hide from others, more of a whisper than a full cry.
Coco didn't know the man or why he was sad, but her heart still ached at the sound of his crying. She wanted to help him. Maybe he was lonely… but if that was the case, what about the other voice? Couldn't the singing woman do something to help him? Sing to him. His voice came from the same place as hers, so they should be friends. Or maybe the time Coco heard the humming, it was directed at him to make him feel better?
Coco woke up. She gazed at the ceiling for a minute before getting out of her bed. Before she went to the bathroom, she felt her cheeks wet, touching them and noticing she had been crying in her sleep.
Coco was following the butterfly, laughing as she jumped around, trying to catch it.
She pursued it into the alleyway, not noticing the robed figure hidden in the shadows until their voice made itself known, inviting her to come near. They wore a strange pointed hat. Coco stopped in front of them, finding their mask glaring back at her. Even seated, they towered over her, and Coco thought maybe she should be scared, but she wasn't.
Then they showed her magic, and Coco stood wide-eyed, admiring the lively dark figures of ponds and flying horses dancing in their palms. Magic was awesome! So naturally, thrilled by her discovery, when Coco was offered the book and the wand, she could only think about how beautiful and wonderful magic was. She handed over all the money she had—roasted strawberries couldn't compare to this—and when she went to take the book from them, the witch gently grasped her small hand, holding her in place.
"Coco, you said that was your name?" they asked in a crooning voice. Coco nodded, still absorbed in the book, still out of her reach, her tiny hands held out in the air, ready to hold it, not noticing that she had never told the witch her name.
"Hm, may I take a closer look at you, child?" they asked, and upon hearing those words, Coco looked up and tilted her head in confusion, observing the black-and-white circular patterns on the mask, assuming that behind it were the witch's eyes. They brought their gaze so close that Coco could see her own reflection in the smooth surface of the mask.
Seconds passed, and afterward, the witch hummed, letting go of her, and shrank back into their seated position.
"My apologies. Here," they said, finally giving the book. Coco grabbed it, holding it against her chest with a full smile.
"Thank you!" she said, jumping with excitement all over the place, as they hummed in response.
Coco was climbing the stairs to get back to her mom when she heard the witch's voice behind her. It was quiet, so she wasn't sure whether they were speaking to her or to themselves, but she managed to catch what they said either way.
"Oh, the stars, so blinding, dancing in your eyes, girl. Oh, the witch you'll become, yes. I can't wait," they said, followed by a quiet chuckle.
The only solace she found when her mother told her that witches could only be born was her dream, her special place. Something that belonged only to Coco. A refuge. If she couldn't have magic, she could pretend the field of flowers under the moon was magic, a kind only Coco could cast. But that night, after returning from the village festival, Coco stopped dreaming entirely. The hope of creating magic and the dream's door, only she could cross, were both lost on the same night.
As time passed, Coco grew up, helping her mother more and more in the shop, learning. Her passion for magic overshadowed everything else, and naturally, she tucked away, deep in her memory, the images of the flower field and the cemetery, along with the voices of the enigmatic woman and the sobbing old man.
Coco was tired, but she couldn't sleep. She was teetering between consciousness and darkness, unable to choose either. The rhythmic beating of her chest didn't seem to align with her eyes' desire to rest, and the two fought a battle with no winner, and Coco as the only loser.
But when she closed her eyes, Coco could still hear her mother's screams as she tried to escape the crystals surrounding their home, trapping her, while the girl was in the air, powerless to do anything. Then, Qifrey carried her to escape the spell's spread, and by the time she climbed into the carriage, numbness had permeated her entire body.
As she sat and looked at the landscape rising into the sky, Coco dozed off for a few minutes, battling sleep, before Qifrey draped his tunic over her. It was soft and, like a blanket, enveloped her completely, bringing a pleasant scent of wet grass to her nose. Coco fidgeted with the lining for a moment, discovering many hidden pockets and compartments she assumed were used to hold wands, ink glasses, or other trinkets.
Warming up and lulled by the carriage's gentle movement, Coco finally succumbed to sleep.
She opened her eyes, instinctively knowing where she was and wondering when she had last set foot here. She should be happy to be back, but Coco didn't know how to feel other than unimpressed—it felt like a cruel joke after all that had happened. Once, this place had been a safe haven, letting her escape her mom's sadness or the sudden loneliness Coco sometimes felt. But there was no escape this time; what Coco had done couldn't be undone by the next morning, when she opened her eyes.
Coco didn't wake up in the middle of the field of flowers, like usual. Now, she stood in front of the metal gate's entrance.
And the gate was now open.
With nothing better to do, Coco began walking. As she looked around, she found that everything was as her blurry memories remembered it, as if the flowers hadn't grown and the gate hadn't worn down even a little. The wooden posts, the clouds, and the breeze around her; a place frozen in time, waiting for her. Wait… the moon wasn't on top of the tree, like she should be. Coco looked for it, moving her head from left to right, but it wasn't in sight, nor was there a sun to suggest it had taken its place in the sky.
Now, everything that had happened with the magic book and her mother faded into the background as Coco passed through the door. Her bare feet didn't feel the cold she expected from the stone floor—just like when she was younger and ran around the field—and the light breeze that brushed against her body brought no chill, but it did carry to her nose the scent of flowers she had forgotten, fondly realizing that she had missed it.
Coco walked slowly, climbing the steps and getting a closer look at the stone slabs she had only seen through the blurry waterfall. Some had names on them, some which she could pronounce, while others sounded foreign. Some were empty, with only carved sigils that held similar shapes to some of the illustrations she had seen in the magic book and Qifrey's drawings, though these weren't arranged inside a circle. All the graves, without fail, whether or not they had a name, displayed the same symbol almost at the top: a straight vertical line that split into two smaller, crooked lines, like branches, with a solitary dot resting at the bottom, not joining the main line.
Coco went ahead and touched one of the graves, feeling the smooth stone slide beneath her fingers as she read the name carved into it.
Lady Eileen the Crow. Hunter. Friend. May you find your worth in the waking world.
Coco found it hard to believe that the title of Lady would be associated with a profession like that of a hunter. Hunters sold furs and food—some of them were acquaintances of her mother—and they sometimes protected livestock or took on jobs to kill dangerous animals that roamed the outskirts of the village. Why would someone with a high-ranking title choose such a job?
Further on, Coco could see that the steep path to the cemetery led to what appeared to be an old chapel at the top, surrounded by trees smaller than the one in the field. It was a little smaller than the ones she found in town, and its dark color gave the impression of being anything but welcoming. Like the metal fence, the chapel showed signs of wear, but it wasn't in ruins—more a sign of everyday use than neglect, with the same bushy vines decorating the walls in a pattern that Coco wouldn't believe was made by nature alone.
Behind it, she finally found her: the same full moon that should have been at the top of the tree now rested above, positioned so neither the chapel nor the trees around it could obstruct Coco's view of it. To Coco, the moon has always been pretty, but tonight it seemed alive, as the light emanating from it—giving it a dark red color—pulsed like a heartbeat.
Coco shifted her gaze. Outside the chapel, small sections of a garden sheltered planted flowers that also decorated vases on the graves. She observed that the gravestones appeared less worn than the chapel, as if, of all things, keeping them tidy were someone's main concern.
Coco then noticed that just before the chapel, a figure sat motionless on a stone bench.
A woman, adorned in a long, high-quality dress with pretty embellishments like ribbons, apparently made with such care that it could only be associated with the clothing of wealthier people, as she sat with her hands clasped neatly in her lap, staring intently at Coco with her head tilted to one side.
Uncertain, Coco tried to wave in greeting, but received no response. The woman's gaze seemed lost and fixed, as if she were looking over her shoulder at something behind her, and if she had her eyes closed, Coco would think she was asleep.
The memory of a humming voice passed through Coco's head.
Perhaps because of the amount of emotion Coco had dealt with in the last hours, she acted with more courage than she would have in any other situation, slowly walking toward the woman. Or maybe she was looking for answers. She had a lot of questions, after all, but no one to ask.
A lantern at the woman's side illuminated her face, revealing more of Coco's features: pale blue eyes that complemented her almost porcelain-like skin and light-blond hair falling past her shoulders, held in place by a lovely hat adorned with wine-colored fabric that formed a pair of flowers at its sides. With a pointed nose and chin, long, elegant eyelashes, and, even though she was sitting, her proportions told Coco she must be very tall. Coco recalled the descriptions in the stories she sometimes read, thinking the woman seemed to have stepped out of a fairy tale.
"Um… Excuse me, Miss? Coco called out, waving again, but there was still no answer. No sign she had been heard, or perhaps the lady was sleeping with her eyes open. With both hands crossed and close to her chest, Coco approached closer, tilting her head to one side as she focused her gaze on the woman's face, observing the way the moonlight shone on her cheeks.
She didn't have porcelain-like skin. She was real porcelain. Coco let out a gasp of surprise, noticing other details: the woman's hands reminded her of the mannequins her mother used to measure gloves and sleeves—with joints that separated like a skeleton's bones—and her eyes, crystal-clear, didn't follow any movement. The woman looked as if she were a giant doll.
Coco gulped, reaching out to touch her arm.
She stopped abruptly, blinking a few times, wondering if her eyes were deceiving her. Had she imagined it? Had the doll just now moved a finger, or—?
Coco heard distant sobs.
'Why is he sad?' she thought that day, as her mind took her back to the moment she heard the man's lament for the first and only time. It was the same voice, she was sure. Coco looked around, and even though she couldn't find the source, it sounded nearby. Up near the chapel, but not from inside. He must be at the back. Maybe she should—
She looked back at the doll, only to find its glassy eyes staring not ahead as they had been, but directly at Coco.
She jumped in surprise, tripped on a step, and fell backward. Before she hit the ground, all the noise was drowned out, leaving Coco hearing only the words from the whimpering man's voice, clear as snow.
"The night… all sight."
Coco awoke, covered in sweat, her breath uneven and her thoughts foggy about where she was. This wasn't her room. She looked out the window, and memories of the night flooded back. Her mother, the book, the spell. Qifrey. The guilt of it all. The doll's eyes, brimming with life, somehow.
A shiver from the wind made Coco nuzzle into the blanket, curling into a ball, hugging her knees and burying her head, wishing she were in the field of flowers, looking at the moon. Even if she had to hear the old man's lament or be scared by the giant moving doll, Coco thought that was better than what she woke up to.
But her mother needed her.
She tried to fall asleep again, seeking that quiet place, but the vision of the crystals consuming her mother, again and again, kept her restless for the rest of the trip.
Coco messed it up.
She acted with too much confidence. After taking the diadem herb, she thought she had done it, that she had passed the test, just as Agott had said. She was a witch now! Technically. All that was left was to return to the windowway and give the flower to Qifrey.
The joy of flying on a spell of her own making made it tempting for Coco to want to linger in the air a little longer, savoring the moment. She convinced herself she could reach the windowway more quickly. Although there were more trees in that area than where she initially took the plant, it was an easy task! Coco was getting the hang of it.
The Brushbuddy on her shoulder mirrored Coco's enthusiasm with a squeak. Its company evoked a feeling Coco didn't fully understand, but the little creature, with that curious gaze lingering on her, unintentionally reminded her of her mission.
The sun was beginning to peek curiously over the horizon, though Coco didn't need another reminder of how much time had passed. With her hunger and the exhaustion from working almost all night to cast the spell, Coco couldn't wait to return. She was close now. Coco figured that if she flew over the wooded area to the small clearing near the gate and landed there, she'd be fine.
A strong gust of wind shook her grip on the wooden plank she was using for support, causing her to lose control of the makeshift sail. With one hand clutching the diadem herb tightly, Coco couldn't compensate for the weight to keep her legs steady. She tried to hold on, but one hand slipped, leaving her dangling dangerously high above the ground.
With her weight now fully tilted downward, the sail responded accordingly, plummeting a frightened Coco directly into the wooded area.
Coco couldn't take control of the direction in time, colliding with an oak tree on her path, shattering the sail and sending her crashing to the ground with a scream of pain. The force of the impact slammed her into the ground and sent her rolling over plants, branches, and rocks, while Coco could do nothing but try to protect her head with her arms.
She finally stopped, lying there, struggling to endure the pain that ran through her body, tears welling in her eyes. Coco whined and trembled as she tried to breathe, but the overwhelming sensation made it hard, and as she tried to get her bearings, a nauseating wave of confusion coursed through her body. She tried to get her bearings, but a nauseating wave of confusion coursed through her body, forcing Coco to remain on the ground, waiting for it to pass. It didn't matter; she wasn't going anywhere. She felt like she was on top of everything and was still trying to catch her breath after the initial blow.
"The herb!" she thought in her daze, as she managed to bring her closed fist up to her eyes.
It remained intact. Despite being battered and its thorns having dug into Coco's hand from the force of her grip, it was still there. Agott didn't comment on the flower's condition when delivering it, but Coco was confident it still counted. It must.
She had to hurry now.
With renewed strength and the dizziness fading, Coco tried to stand, only to be struck by even more intense agony from her side, causing her to scream and drop to her knees. She instinctively placed her hand on her side and found it wet, a familiar red painting most of her palm. As she looked, she found her dress beginning to stain the same color at an alarming rate.
Then, as if it had been waiting for her to notice, the sharp, stabbing pain intensified, forcing Coco to close her eyes and grit her teeth.
No. No!
The urgency cleared her thoughts for a moment: more than ever, Coco needed to reach the windowway. Right now, she was in the middle of nowhere, and back at the Atelier, Master Qifrey, Agott, or the others could help her. Coco knew how to bandage wounds, more or less; her mother had taught her, but she couldn't waste time on that now. She had nothing on hand to use, as the cloth she'd used for the improvised sail had gotten caught in a tree somewhere.
The stain was spreading, and Coco, taking a deep breath, pressed her hand on the cut to stop the bleeding. She ignored the sharp pain that made her groan, feeling a tremor run through her body. Her hands and feet grew colder. Whether it was fear or pain, she didn't know.
Get up! You're a witch now!
With a whimper, Coco kept pressing with her free hand as she stood and began to walk on trembling legs, trying to get her bearings and figure out where she had fallen. She knew she was close to the windowway, but her gaze was blurring and her footsteps were slowing by the minute. Sweat dripped from her face, yet Coco felt it was ice-cold.
She could feel the Brushbuddy on her shoulder, its furry head rubbing against her cheek, offering silent encouragement. She hadn't even stopped to check whether the little creature was okay after the crash.
"You'll get blood on its fur," Coco thought, suppressing the instinctive urge to raise her hand to stroke its head.
She walked and walked—minutes? Hours?—uncertain whether she was heading in the right direction. Her strength was fading, like water dripping from a hole in a bucket, and Coco had to pause a few times, grabbing a tree to steady herself before moving on.
The cold she began to feel in her limbs had spread until Coco began to chatter her teeth, and even though she could feel the sun at her back, beating down on the nape of her neck, Coco did not feel that it was helping to warm her up. On one occasion, when she stopped to rest next to a fallen tree trunk, the temptation to sit and sunbathe in hopes of fighting off the cold made her shake her head vigorously.
Come on. Come on! You just found out you could be a witch. Keep moving!
She distracted herself by thinking of the wonders of magic or which spell she would learn next. She could make something like the cloak, only better and less improvised. Right, she also had to give Agott the Sylph Shoes back, even if they were now just normal, dirty shoes. No problem, she only needed to fix them, or Agott would get mad. She seemed nice; all of them did. Master Qifrey, too. It'd be dumb if Coco didn't pass this test; Agott said it was the easiest. The pain at her side was probably just a scratch, and Coco was overreacting. She should—
Lost in thought, Coco didn't notice as she emerged from the vegetation into a clearing, where the circular windowway rune greeted her. Her surprise momentarily made her forget the pain, allowing her to exhale in relief.
Now she just needed to open it... or did she have to wait for someone to activate it on the other side? Or should she knock on it, like a door? Coco hadn't wondered how it worked until now; she had only seen Master Qifrey move some levers, but she couldn't see any on this side. She assumed it had to be opened by now.
As she was contemplating her options, Coco approached the structure. However, when she attempted to take another step, her strength gave out, and she lost her balance, stumbling and falling to the ground.
Coco's body didn't even seem to consider getting up—like a candle blown out, the drive to move forward disappeared. But at least the pain gave way to a numbness that covered her like a blanket and almost fully dulled her agony. She just needed a moment to rest and regain her energy; then she would get up—yes, just a moment. If she rests for a couple of minutes, Coco will be on her feet in no time. Maybe she should close her eyes; they feel heavy, so—
Coco clenched her teeth and kept her eyes wide open, struggling against the tempting urge to drift off. She was exhausted, but she knew she had to stay awake.
She needed to… get back. Her mom… she was waiting for her, to save…
Everything was beginning to grow quieter, blurrier. Coco's surroundings seemed to contract and be swallowed into a black tunnel, along with her.
… she needed…
Her eyes closed, and now it took much more struggle to open them again, only managing halfway, while her squinted gaze saw beyond the haze one little Brushbuddy crawling into her field of vision, staring at her.
It's not fair, she thought.
Coco had waited so long for this. She felt the gift of magic taken from her when her mother told her she had to be born with it. The hope and words from a witch's mouth that she could learn magic—become a witch—helped her forget why she was in this situation in the first place.
Coco managed to soar through the skies, just like that dream from so long ago, and she did it by herself. So why now?
It's not fair...
Coco closed her eyes, tears filling them, and accepted the invitation to sink into darkness. She was very tired.
"Sorry, Mom," she could only whisper, hoping Master Qifrey could find a way to bring her back.
Coco sensed a gentle touch on her cheek, moving up and down as if to comfort her and wipe her tears. The touch was cold, soft, and slightly bony, with pointed tips. Multiple tiny limbs moved together like small fingers attached to a hand. Coco struggled to open her eyes one last time, but she managed. If possible, she would have screamed at the sight before her, but she could only watch helplessly as the tiny creature stood before her.
It was pale, about the size of a baby, but grotesquely thin and scrawny. Wrinkled and grayish white, it had a single eye, irisless and pale, fixed on Coco's soul. The socket where its other eye should have been was covered by a clump of skin that seemed to be peeling from its eyebrow. Its pink mouth contrasted sharply with the rest of its body, revealing a set of teeth resembling those of a normal human, yet it opened in a way no person could without hurting their jaw.
The mysterious creature swayed gently from side to side, as if it were dancing or being pushed by the wind. Coco could only see the upper part of its body; it looked as though it had emerged from a hole in the ground rather than simply lying beside her. As it looked at her, even amid the numbness and fatigue, Coco recognized the expression on its face. It was… concerned. Was the creature worried about her? It even seemed to be frowning. It was impressive how much emotion it could convey through its limited physical features.
Coco could only think she was delirious from blood loss. This is it: a strange creature is coming for her to take her to the afterlife. Only Coco's epic journey as a witch, like the stories, would end on the same day it started.
She just stared at it as the creature continued to touch her cheek, as if checking she was still alive. Coco was so terrified of dying that she found comfort in its touch. With the Brushbuddy—which had moved to her shoulder, as she could feel its warmth—and the pale monster in front of her, at least she wouldn't die alone.
Without thinking clearly, Coco raised her blood-covered hand as close as she could, extending a finger toward the gray being. In turn, the creature tilted its head, rising in excitement at her response, and then grasped Coco's index finger, its bony appendages curling around her own.
"It feels very real," was the last thing she thought, as Coco eventually lost consciousness, closing her eyes.
A couple of seconds passed, and then she opened them again, gazing at a place she knew very well, a cloudy sky she found so familiar, and a breeze carrying a floral scent she didn't expect to smell one more time.
From the start, Agott knew she was going to get into trouble. She's not stupid. Master Qifrey wouldn't have taken an outsider as an apprentice if she weren't worthwhile; otherwise, he would have erased her memories. Maybe it was because of the rumor that a forbidden magic spell was conjured by a commoner, but it was absurd to think of it as the reason Coco got into the Atelier. Ever since she read the letter Master Qifrey sent them with the notice that he'll be bringing someone back with him—he was only supposed to bring cloth—and when Agott first saw Coco, she didn't come across as a particularly outstanding person to her.
When Agott remembered the way Coco would examine every corner of the Atelier that bore a spell, the sight of that wonderstruck smile would fill her with an anger she couldn't quite place. A childlike fascination, the one shown by Coco, one Agott had left behind so many years ago; magic had always been around her, a part of her life. The wonder wasn't in seeing it but in understanding it.
And now Agott watched from the stairs as Master Qifrey hurriedly adjusted the windowway to the test coordinates. Tetia and Richeh were with him, yet neither had mentioned Agott's involvement—or lack of interest in stopping the ongoing test—even though she could feel the gaze Richeh was throwing at her. Agott admired Richeh's perceptiveness, even if she couldn't be bothered half the time to follow it up with action, but Agott found any observational skills regarding one's surroundings a good quality in a witch.
Whatever the case, it didn't matter. This actually worked in her favor: Coco still had time for the test, but if Master Qifrey intervened prematurely, she would fail. The rules were set in stone, so even if Master Qifrey tried to bend them somehow, he wouldn't be able to argue when Master Olruggio arrived.
A flash of light, and the portal opened, revealing the trees on the other side. As Qifrey prepared to step forward, lifting one foot in the air, he stopped abruptly, staring ahead with wide eyes. Agott couldn't see what was happening from her position, but Qifrey's serious expression unsettled her.
"Coco!" he shouted without warning, making Tetia and Richeh at his side jump. Agott's heart skipped a beat as the unsettling sensation intensified. She watched as he passed through the portal, while the two other girls approached but stayed on this side of the windowway.
Agott could still hear Qifrey shouting Coco's name as she began to run down the stairs, stopping when she heard Tetia gasp and bringing both hands to her mouth in horror. Agott then looked at Richeh, who was staring toward the other side of the doorway with eyes as wide as Qifrey's had been a moment ago, her mouth opened and trembling in silent surprise, as if she were trying to say something but couldn't find the words.
Agott felt herself getting more nervous as she drew closer, running the last stretch to reach the other two. There, she glanced over at Qifrey, who was surrounded by trees, sitting on the grass with his back to them, staring down. He quickly stood up and turned around, revealing to Agott what he was carrying in his arms.
Coco looked asleep, pale. A large bloodstain on her right side spread across her dress, almost reaching the bottom of her skirt. The white fabric made the blood look even darker, and Agott couldn't remember ever seeing so much blood in one place.
Qifrey rushed through the window, nearly knocking the others over, then set Coco down on the floor. Agott ran at his side as the strong scent of iron suddenly hit her nose, making her recoil in surprise before she composed herself.
"Tetia, the medicine bag is in the kitchen. Go now! Richeh, go with her. We need bandages." Both of them nodded as they ran upstairs. Master Olruggio always kept two sets of medicine bags around the Atelier, one in his room and the other in the kitchen. The kitchen was closer to them.
Qifrey knelt at Coco's side as he turned his gaze to Agott. "We need to apply pressure, come. Both hands together, Agott, like this," he showed her how. "When they bring the bandages, we'll wrap her up, and I'll fly to the town's doctor. In the meantime, help me. How does the wound feel?"
Qifrey had begun tearing at his robes while Agott approached Coco. She brought both hands to the area of Coco's side where the wound appeared to be and began applying pressure, ignoring how the blood on the clothes stained her skin. Agott needs—
Wait. Agott then touched the area with her fingers but couldn't find any sign of a wound. No broken skin, no blood actually pouring out, aside from the already stained clothes. Has… has Coco bled out? Her skin didn't feel cold.
"Teacher," she called to Qifrey. "S-she's not bleeding. I don't feel an open wound."
Qifrey stopped. "What? Let me see." Agott stepped aside as Qifrey inspected the hole in the dress where they assumed Coco had been bleeding, confirming Agott's suspicions. Nothing. The skin underneath was intact.
Now that Agott had noticed, Coco's clothes were covered in dirt and tears, as if she had fallen onto something hard. However, her face, hands, and neck remained untouched, without a scratch or cut. It was as if Coco had put on someone else's clothes, clothes that had already been damaged.
"You're right, she's fine," Qifrey whispered, now checking Coco's back, inspecting to see if the source came from somewhere else. "It doesn't make sense. I thought..."
"But she's not—?"
"She has a pulse," he interrupted her. "She's breathing normally, too. Her skin looks a little pale, but not sickly. Heavens, Coco, why did you do it?" The last part came more as a whisper, but Agott still winced at the words.
They both paused briefly, with Agott waiting for Qifrey to do something, but if Coco was in no imminent danger, they had time to… figure it out. They assumed it was blood, but what if it was a stain of something else? Maybe, maybe it was a dead animal's blood that Coco tripped and fell. Agott's mind worked to find a different explanation for Coco's condition, and the quiet was so deep that Agott could now hear Coco's steady breathing.
"I wonder…" Qifrey finally said, calmer, as he brought his hand closer to Coco's face. "Coco? Coco? Wake up," he said, patting her cheek.
Agott blinked at the simplicity of her teacher's solution. They thought for a moment she was dead, there is no way Coco would wake up for—
Coco opened her eyes, and Agott exhaled, unable to help but feel relieved.
Coco grunted as she tried to adjust to the light, squinting and looking at them both in confusion, giving Agott the impression she had just woken up from a deep sleep instead of being covered in blood. Qifrey let out a tiny exhale as he put his hand on Coco's forehead, then moved to place a finger on the side of her neck.
Coco fully opened her eyes, and for a brief moment, Agott could swear she saw tiny emerald lights dancing from them, like stars the size of grains of salt, but then she blinked, and they were gone.
"Teacher?" Coco said, blinking a couple more times. Agott managed to see Coco's hand move from her face to the floor, palpating it carefully, as if she were looking for something, expecting to find more than wood.
"Coco, are you okay? Are you wounded?" Qifrey replied, carefully grabbing her shoulders. Coco went to sit, and Agott had to stop herself from telling her not to, but she didn't look dizzy. At that moment, Agott remembered that both her hands were still stained with blood, so she kept them close to herself.
Coco shook her head. "Me? No, I'm fine. I'm… where am I? I was…" Coco clutched her head with one hand, staring down at her feet. She was wearing Agott's Sylph Shoes.
"You're safe, but I still need a doctor to check on you, Coco. Pay attention. I need to know, is this your blood?" Qifrey pointed to her clothes, and Coco frowned, gazing at them with wide eyes, and seemed just as surprised to find the stain.
"It is? B-but I feel fine," Coco hesitated, not meeting his gaze, then raising her head as if remembering something. "Wait! Teacher, the flower—I got it! It—"
"That doesn't matter right now, Coco. Concentrate. Does anything hurt? What happened there?"
Coco once again looked down at the ground, now at Agott's feet, as she followed them up until their eyes met and, possibly for the first time, Coco noticed Agott beside her, her eyes widening a little. Agott used it to search again for the dancing stars she had seen before, but the glimmer had disappeared. It must have been the reflection of the light, then. Or her imagination.
Qifrey tried to ask Coco more questions, but the girl was disoriented, unable to remember what else had happened or where the blood had come from. Qifrey inspected her side again and then other parts of Coco's clothing, which were also stained with blood from minor scratches, but she was unharmed.
With a sigh, Qifrey picked up Coco and headed for the stairs. As he made his way upstairs, he told Agott to close the windowway and follow him, since they were going to the town either way. Agott nodded, still confused. Coco was okay. That was good news. Not in a million years had Agott meant to hurt her; she'd only wanted to scare her or make her see the realistic path of magic, the harsh reality of the journey.
But this was... strange. The test was meant to be difficult—the most difficult of all—not dangerous. Nothing on that side could harm the apprentices. And the blood—had she injured herself? How? If so, why was she unharmed? Or perhaps it was someone else's blood? That idea unsettled Agott even more.
Forbidden magic. Those words kept repeating in Agott's head.
Still pondering, she went to close the windowway when something caught her eye: in the clearing where Qifrey had found Coco, something was lying there, besides a stain of blood on the grass. Agott quickly crossed over and took a few steps to find the diadem herb lying on the ground.
It was battered and bent, but still in one piece. Coco had managed to get it, after all. Agott picked up the flower—it would be a shame for a witch like her to leave it like that—and crossed back into the Atelier. Adjusting the lever, she cut the spell as the image on the other side flickered and faded.
Agott thought her eyes were playing tricks on her again because, before the other side completely dissolved from her gaze, she glimpsed, among the trees at the clearing's edge, what looked like a single glowing lamp.
Agott blinked, and it was gone, disappearing like the stars in Coco's eyes.