18 The Witch's Apprentice Chapter 18

The tunnel they followed now was different—older. Bell could see it in the way the walls bent subtly in on themselves, as though shaped by pressure and time rather than intention. Roots burst through the cracks here and there, some pulsing softly with faint light, others dry and dead. Strange symbols had been scratched into the stone long ago, their meaning lost but their presence felt.

“We’re leaving the lake’s reach,” Thera said after hours of walking, her voice steady in the stillness. “This tunnel leads out—upward.”

Bell blinked. “Out? Into the city?”

Thera shook her head. “Past it.”

The passage narrowed, then opened into a long corridor of natural rock. Cold air brushed against Bell’s face—real cold, the kind born from open space, not the damp chill of subterranean rooms. The scent changed too: lichen, wind, faintly metallic. The clean, dry air of elevation.

After what seemed like forever, they reached a narrow stone door. Thera pressed a hand to a set of carved constellations on its surface—seven stars arranged like a wheel. The door gave a low groan, and then opened with a sigh of released pressure.

Bell stepped through and gasped.

They were standing at the edge of a high plateau carved into the side of the mountain—a hidden ledge high above Dûrnarn’s uppermost layers. Behind them, the city was invisible. Before them, a forest stretched wide beneath a boundless sky.

And above it all—

The stars.

So many stars.

The city light had hidden their brilliance, but here, in the open air, they blazed across the heavens in rivers and wheels and spirals, as though someone had cracked open a vault of jewels and scattered them across the night.

Bell felt tears prick her eyes.

She had never seen them like this. Not from so high, not from so far from the smoke and glow of city lights.

The other witches had already gathered across the plateau, seated on woven mats or lying on their backs, gazing upward. Maps and scrolls were spread across a flat table of stone, weighted with crystals. Incense burned slowly from carved bowls, releasing a rich scent of sandalwood and saffron that coiled into the night like drifting threads.

Thera joined Bell at the edge and gestured upward.

“The stars are more than light,” she said. “They’re memory. Movement. Music.”

She pointed toward a bright cluster glowing in the shape of a crescent. “That one rises only when the tides shift. It governs divination and voice magic.”

Then another, to the east. “Those are the Watchers. They pass over the city every thirteen days. They guard the border between dreaming and waking.”

Bell stared, enraptured.

“Every spell,” Thera continued, “has its hour. Its alignment. Its harmony. This is where we learn to listen. To time our craft with the world above, just as we attune ourselves to the world below.”

Bell nodded slowly, eyes wide.

They sat together on a small blanket, and Thera unrolled a parchment dotted with shimmering ink—star charts, each one alive with motion as the ink shifted with the current position of the heavens.

“Tonight,” Thera said, handing Bell a charcoal pencil, “we chart your sky. We mark your hour of arrival. Your first dream. The day the lake spoke to you. We begin to trace the pattern of your path.”

Bell hesitated, the pencil trembling in her fingers.

The sky above blazed.

The wind was cool and pure.

And far below, in the dark stillness of the lake, something ancient and waiting turned its gaze upward, as though listening too.

Bell sat cross-legged beside Thera, the cool stone beneath her layered with thick wool blankets that smelled of sage and smoke. Her Book of Shadows lay open in her lap, the blank page gleaming softly under the light of the stars. Nearby, a small orb of enchanted quartz floated just above the ground, casting a dim golden glow that didn’t interfere with the view above.

Thera unrolled a thin parchment and weighted the corners with smooth, rune-marked stones. The paper shimmered faintly, dusted with silver pigment that caught the starlight like frost.

“This,” Thera said, “is the Star Map of the Moment. It shows the position of the heavens right now—the moment you're sitting here, as you begin to chart your path.”

Bell leaned closer. Across the parchment, dozens of tiny constellations glowed in shifting clusters: spirals, curves, arcs, and lattices. No ordinary stars—these pulsed with magic, their movement subtle, rhythmic, and strangely alive.

Thera handed Bell a charcoal pencil.

“Begin by copying the sky’s arrangement onto your own chart,” she said. “Not every star—just the ones that call to you. Feel which ones pull. Mark their positions, but don’t worry about accuracy. This is about attunement, not perfection.”

Bell turned the page in her Book of Shadows and sketched a circle about the size of her palm. A simple circle, divided into eight slices like the spokes of a wheel. These represented the eight directions of power recognized by the witches of the lake: North, South, East, West, Above, Below, Within, and Beyond.

Thera gestured upward. “Now… close your eyes. Breathe in. Let one star call your name.”

Bell obeyed.

She inhaled deeply—the scent of saffron smoke and mountain wind—and when she opened her eyes again, one star burned brighter than the rest. A pale blue jewel just above the eastern peak.

She marked it in the eastern slice of her circle.

Thera nodded, “The star that draws your attention first is your current celestial guide. Name it. Record how it feels. Write down what you sense—not just what it is, but what it says.”

Bell wrote:

Guiding Star: Lirael, the Tide-Gazer
Color: Blue-white. Movement: North east to west.
It feels like memory. Like someone watching me from the deep.

Thera smiled as she watched her write. “You’re a natural. Now, name three constellations that speak to you.”

Bell took her time. She scanned the sky again, letting her gaze soften, letting her heart listen. One by one, three constellations shimmered brighter, just for her:

1. The Spiral Path – a winding trail of seven stars that reminded her of the river’s current
   
   

2. The Veil-Mother – a cluster shaped like a cloak with a hidden face
   
   

3. The Drowned Crown – low on the horizon, a broken circle of stars that blinked like something submerged
   
   

She copied them carefully, sketching them onto the chart around her guiding star, then annotated each with notes.

The Spiral Path
Feeling: Movement, change, not knowing where it ends.
Magic: Excellent for transformation spells or pathworking rituals.

The Veil-Mother
Feeling: Hidden wisdom, protection, silence.
Magic: Strengthens dreamwork and divination. Use when seeking secrets.

The Drowned Crown
Feeling: Regret, lost power, forgotten royalty.
Magic: Good for unearthing the past, reclaiming personal magic.

Thera reached into her satchel and passed Bell a small brass disc. “This is a Spell Dial. It marks the current spell hour.”

Bell watched as the needle spun slowly, then came to rest pointing to an etched symbol: a waxing crescent paired with the sigil for revelation.

Spell Time: Waxing Crescent under the Sign of Hidden Waters
This is a time for setting intentions and uncovering what is veiled.

Bell added a note:

“Tonight is a night for uncovering hidden truths. I dedicate this chart to clarity. May the lake and the sky speak together in my dreams.”

Thera handed her a small vial of moon-charged ink. Bell dipped her finger and traced a crescent moon at the top of the page, then blew gently over the ink to seal it.

The mark shimmered, then sank into the page as if swallowed by starlight.

Thera nodded in approval. “Well done. That’s your first celestial map. From now on, keep track of the sky on nights when dreams come, or when spells go strangely. The stars know what we can’t speak.”

Bell stared down at her page, her pulse soft but certain.

Something about seeing it all written—marked, named, claimed—made her feel less like she was drifting and more like she had begun charting her return.

The stars blinked above, indifferent yet anciently kind.

And far below, in the lake’s secret heart, something turned again in its sleep.