Chapter 11

ELEVEN

B riar’s heart plummeted. The magnificent tree she’d enchanted drooped pathetically, its branches wilting like a flower left too long without water. The magical ornaments flickered weakly, some going dark entirely with little sounds like dying sighs. Mrs. Thompson appeared at her elbow, worry etched across her face.

“It started this morning,” the headmistress whispered. “The children say it feels like the tree is sad. Little Tommy swears he heard it crying.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Briar said with more confidence than she felt. Setting down the pastries, she gathered the children around the tree. “Remember how we enchanted it together? Let’s try again! Sophie, you lead us in the charm – you remember the words?”

The little girl nodded eagerly, and soon a chorus of young voices filled the room with the enchantment song. Briar raised her hands, channeling magic into a renewal spell. For a moment, warmth flooded the room. The tree’s lights brightened, its branches lifting...

Then everything crashed back down, worse than before. Several ornaments went completely dark with small, desperate pings. One actually sneezed out a puff of glitter before giving up entirely.

“I don’t understand,” Sophie’s lower lip trembled. “Why isn’t it working? We did it right.”

“Sometimes magic needs extra help,” Briar forced her voice to stay steady, quickly distributing Molly’s pastries to distract from the failed spell. “Like how these cinnamon rolls are extra special because they’re made with love and friendship. Why don’t you all enjoy them while I make a quick call?”

Stepping away from the disappointed children, Briar activated her communication charm – a delicate silver bracelet that connected her to the other witches in town. “Emergency meeting,” she murmured into it. “Library, as soon as possible. Something’s very wrong with the town’s magic.”

The responses came quickly:

Celeste’s determined “On my way. The ley lines are throwing a tantrum – my garden gnomes have all turned to face north and are refusing to move.”

Daisy’s concerned “Be there in five if the ghost in my shop stops hiding all my keys again. Mr. Whispers, this is NOT the time for games.”

Ellie’s quiet “Coming. The protection charms on the sheriff’s station just spelled out ‘Nice try’ in frost...”

Tabitha’s energetic “Count me in! My latest batch of warming potions exploded into actual snowballs. Inside. Don’t ask.”

The Whispering Pines Library stood like a cathedral of knowledge, its Gothic architecture barely visible through the growing storm. Inside, warmth and the scent of old books provided instant comfort. Jasper Moon, the resident ghost librarian, materialized near the front desk, his bow tie slightly askew and his spectral form fizzing around the edges.

“Ah, the witches gather while darkness commences,” he said, flickering with interest. “I wondered when you’d come. Though I must say, this weather is playing havoc with my ectoplasm. I tried to reshelve the meteorology section and ended up in romance novels. Twice.”

“Jasper, we need your help.” Briar explained the situation – the unnatural storm, the failing enchantments, the growing sense of dread. The ghost’s usual mischievous expression turned serious, though he couldn’t quite help adding, “At least you’re all still corporeal. I tried to make tea earlier and my hand went right through the cup. More than usual, I mean. Follow me.” He glided between towering shelves, leading them to a section hidden behind a shimmering veil of protective magic. “The restricted archives. Many dark forces have troubled our town over the centuries. Perhaps we’ll find answers here.”

The other witches arrived as Jasper pulled ancient tomes from the shelves. Each brought their own reports of the storm’s effects: Celeste spoke of disrupted ley lines, Daisy mentioned restless spirits, Ellie described protective charms failing at alarming rates, and Tabitha reported that even her strongest warming potions barely lasted minutes.

They spread books across a massive oak table, searching for anything similar to their current situation. Briar’s heart pounded when she found it – a passage about an entity called the Frost Phantom.

“Listen to this,” she read aloud. “‘A malevolent spirit that feeds on joy and warmth, leaving only despair in its wake. The phantom seeks places of strong positive energy, drawn to happiness only to destroy it. Each act of hopelessness strengthens its power...’“

“The orphanage,” Ellie gasped. “All those children, all that Christmas magic...”

“A perfect target,” Celeste agreed grimly. “Now we know what we’re dealing with. Does it mention how to defeat this thing?”

Briar skimmed down the page and turned to the next one. “No.” She sighed. “Looks like we have to figure this out on our own.”

The witches sprang into action, formulating plans. Celeste would strengthen the town’s magical barriers using earth magic. Daisy would consult her ghostly contacts for more information. Ellie offered to enchant food with extra cheer, while Tabitha began listing potion ingredients needed for defensive spells.

“We’ll need to coordinate with the shifters too,” Briar added. “Reed should know what’s coming, and Kade’s pack could help patrol.”

As they gathered their notes and prepared to leave, Jasper’s voice floated after them: “Remember, dearies – the light within you is stronger than any darkness.”

Outside, the storm raged harder than ever. But Briar stood straighter, bolstered by the strength of her fellow witches. They had a name for their enemy now, and a plan to fight it. Most importantly, they had each other.

Looking back at the library’s frost-covered windows, Briar caught a glimpse of Jasper waving encouragement. His words echoed in her mind, mixing with memories of the children’s faces, Molly’s generosity, and the united determination of her friends.

“We won’t let this darkness win,” she promised the howling wind. “Not while there’s still magic in Whispering Pines.”

The storm answered with a furious gust as if accepting her challenge. But for the first time since waking, Briar smiled. Let it rage – light burned brightest in the dark, after all. And this town had light to spare.