Seph paused, her destructive efforts ceased, and she turned her full attention back to the wand. It was small, exquisitely shaped – rounded at the top and tapering to a point, rather like a pendant heart. Intricate, beautiful patterns, reminiscent of ancient carvings, adorned its surface. The wood itself was a pale, delicate pink, smooth and strangely full to the touch. When she shook it gently, she thought she heard the faintest whisper of movement from within.
If, before, Seph had dismissed the dusty old tomes in her father's study as dull relics, if she'd scoffed at his talk of 'magic' as mere flights of fancy, she certainly couldn't afford such skepticism now.
The mere fact that these three items – the parchment, the disturbing black substance, and this wand – had been concealed so carefully within the angel statue was proof enough: they were far from ordinary. They had to be connected to the Crane family's magical heritage.
Seph dimly recalled her father mentioning that their family's magic required a special kind of 'conduit' or 'medium' to be channeled properly. He'd called it the 'Source of Magical Power'. While the concept had always been hazy, a prickle of understanding suggested the wand she now held might be just that.
Another phrase floated up from her memory, one her father had used sparingly – 'Blood Pact'. Certain powerful magical objects, he'd implied, needed the user's blood to awaken them.
Seph hesitated only briefly. Biting down on the small cut she'd made earlier, she squeezed her fingertip until another drop of blood welled up. Carefully, she touched the bead of red to the surface of the pink wand. Instantly, as if drawn by an unseen force, the blood vanished into the wood, leaving no stain, no trace it had ever been there.
A minute ticked by. Then another. The wand remained stubbornly inert. Seph examined it again, holding it up to the sunlight streaming through the window, turning it over and over. Nothing. It looked exactly the same. She gave it another gentle shake; this time, there was definitely no sound from within. Frustrated, she lowered her hand.
Just as she was about to get up and hunt for some tools – perhaps something sharper to try on the wand again – a familiar jangling tune erupted from the depths of the sofa cushions. Seph froze. It took her a moment to place the sound – a mobile phone ringing. She hadn't touched one in a decade. In the wasteland, they were useless bricks.
After a moment's hesitation, she tightened her grip on the wand in her left hand and fumbled between the sofa cushions with her right. Her fingers closed around the smooth plastic of the phone. A glance at the caller ID, then she pressed the button to answer.
A crisp, slightly severe female voice spoke immediately. "Hello, am I speaking with Miss Seraphina Crane?"
Seph blinked. "Speaking," she confirmed.
"This is Human Resources from the Bloom Company internship programme," the voice continued. "I regret to inform you that due to repeated unauthorized absences, you have seriously violated the company's attendance regulations. As a result, the company has decided to terminate your internship contract, effective immediately."
Seph felt not a flicker of surprise, only a strange sense of release. "Okay," she said calmly. "I understand. Thank you for letting me know."
The woman on the other end seemed taken aback by her placid response. Her tone softened marginally. "We will, of course, process your final pay according to the internship agreement. An electronic copy of your termination notice will be sent to your email address shortly. Please ensure you check for it."
Seph offered a polite goodbye and ended the call. She felt none of the usual anxiety or indignant anger that such news might once have provoked. Instead, a profound sense of relief washed over her. The horrors she had endured had taught her a stark lesson: money and jobs, while important in this world, were utterly insignificant when measured against the raw imperative of survival. Besides, she had far more pressing matters to attend to now – uncovering the secrets hidden within her family's legacy, grasping the power she needed to endure whatever came next.
As this thought solidified, her attention returned to the wand clutched in her left hand. Suddenly, an almost unbearable, searing heat erupted in her palm!
With a gasp, she yanked her hand open, staring down at it.
The pale pink wood had transformed, now glowing a deep, incandescent violet-red. Faint lines, like the magical symbols on the statue base but etched into her own skin, now blazed visibly on her palm, pulsing with the same strange, violet light.
Seph felt it then – an invisible energy drawn from the very air around her, funnelling violently into her palm. The pain was excruciating, a tearing sensation that seemed to rip along every nerve, every vein in her body. In seconds, she was drenched in sweat, her clothes clinging to her as if she'd been plunged into water.
Yet, outwardly, nothing showed. To any observer, she was simply sitting on the sofa, pale and trembling slightly, staring intently at her own hand.
She didn't know how long it lasted – seconds? minutes? – but gradually, the agonising tearing sensation subsided. The burning heat in her palm cooled. And then, the violet-red wand cupped there emitted a soft, distinct crack.
As she watched, the object split cleanly down the middle, separating into two perfect halves. A single, teardrop-shaped crystal, the colour of deep amethyst, tumbled out onto her palm.
The entire event had lasted perhaps fifteen seconds, yet Seph felt as though she'd endured hours of torment. Her hoodie and shorts were plastered to her skin, heavy with sweat. She felt utterly drained, weak as a newborn kitten, yet her mind remained preternaturally sharp, forcing herself through the lingering waves of discomfort to observe exactly what was happening.
There, nestled in one half of the split wand, a tiny, silvery plant had miraculously sprouted. Two tender shoots, fashioned not from plant matter but from something resembling clear, shimmering crystal, unfurled, radiating an almost tangible vitality.
The little silver plant was no bigger than a toy building block, its two leaves perfectly transparent, like polished crystal, catching the light and shimmering with iridescent colours. Within the immediate vicinity of the plant, Seph's senses felt extraordinarily heightened. She could perceive – feel – every minute vein tracing patterns across the crystal leaves, the awareness unfolding directly in her mind with startling clarity, bypassing her eyes entirely.
It was a sensation utterly unlike anything she had ever experienced.
A moment later, a violent tremor ran through her. The ordeal, brief as it was, seemed to have utterly depleted her reserves, leaving her physically and mentally exhausted. Her gaze fixed on the impossible crystalline sprout, she finally succumbed. Darkness swam before her eyes, and she slumped sideways onto the sofa, instantly falling into a profound, dreamless sleep.
Yet, the two halves of the wand and the tiny sprout clutched in her limp left hand did not fall. Sometime later, unseen, the split halves of the wand silently, seamlessly, rejoined into a single, solid piece once more. The amethyst crystal, dislodged by her collapse, rolled away into the shadows beneath the sofa, where it lay glinting faintly in the gloom.
She slept soundly until dusk began to settle outside the window, finally jolted awake by the insistent ringing of her phone once more. Years of hard-won vigilance snapped her instantly awake, eyes wide, scanning her surroundings. Recognition dawned, the memory of the day's impossible events returning, and she allowed herself to relax fractionally, her gaze falling on the phone lying beside her on the sofa, its screen flashing insistently.
Suppressing a surge of irritation, she picked it up. The caller ID showed 'Uncle Richard'. Seph hesitated for only a second or two before answering.
She remembered clearly: ever since her parents' sudden, accidental deaths six months prior, Aunt Susan and Uncle Richard had rarely reached out. Contact had become infrequent. It was generally a case of 'long time no see' unless they wanted something. She had a sinking feeling that this sudden call meant they wanted something now.
As soon as the call connected, Uncle Richard's overly hearty voice filled her ear. "Hi Seph, how are you doing? Aunt Susan and I were just wondering if you'd like to pop over and join us for dinner tonight? We're doing grilled steak, thought it would be nice to catch up since we haven't seen you in ages."
Seph paused. The call felt familiar; she had a vague memory of a similar invitation years ago, one that had ended rather unpleasantly after a strained meal with her aunt and uncle. But she wasn't that naive young woman anymore. Besides – perhaps an aftereffect of the wand's draining activation – she had woken up absolutely ravenous, her stomach aching with emptiness. The mention of grilled steak was almost unbearably tempting. She agreed readily, almost without thinking. As soon as she hung up, she scrambled to her feet, suddenly desperate for food. No one understood the gnawing agony of true hunger better than she did now.
She'd taken only two steps when she remembered the plant that had sprouted from the wand. Snatching the wand up again, she focused her thoughts on the tiny sprout. As if responding to her silent command, an image shimmered into existence before her eyes, like a miniature holographic projection: a tiny silver tree. The plant, which had started as mere shoots, now stood a good six inches tall, boasting several new, perfectly formed crystalline leaves. Her eyes widened in amazement.
Then she remembered the amethyst crystal that had fallen out. Dropping to her hands and knees, Seph began carefully searching the dusty gap between the sofa and the floorboards. After disturbing a considerable amount of fluff and grime, her fingers finally brushed against something small and hard.
She drew it out carefully. Seeing the little teardrop crystal safe in her palm brought a surprising sense of reassurance, and the corners of her lips turned up in a small smile. It was perfectly shaped, with a tiny hole drilled through the pointed top, suggesting it could be worn on a cord. What it did, however, remained a mystery. Glancing at the computer clock, she realized she'd have to hurry if she wasn't going to be late for her uncle's grilled steak.