Every day before breakfast, Mariela crept out to see the fairy’s maze. She took her mother’s old mirror from the top of its mahogany dresser, blowing off the scraps of crumbling wallpaper, and swiped a scone from the cook’s first batch of the day.
Shay crouched down next to the small fire, mesmerized by feeding wood inside and watching it be eaten at. He showed no sign of moving.
"I told you, I'm not a priestess." Shardae shot up, every bone in her fist pronounced black and rattling with dark magic. Arsemia dissipated lazily into ashes, eddying outwards.
Black smoke bled through the window, billowing over Shardae’s bed in a great cloud. Shardae backed away as it spilled from the sheets to the tile, and a lounging shape began to take form.
Shiori concentrated until the room began to spark with magic. One by one, the crystals and glasses began to light with an aurora of colors. A warped space swam through the room, distorting the windows.