"Breathe. Let the mana flow through you."
You still remembered all of the motions. How it felt to have her magic course through every part of you.
It came to you as easily as breathing at this point.
But there was no magic anymore. No magic to flow through your veins, to fill your lungs, to flood your nerves.
She was gone, after all.
A drunk driver on a Sunday night.
You came out alive. A miracle. The only part of the car that hadn't crumpled was yours.
You knew why, of course.
You heard her fingers snap, felt her magic around you - like it was just another session, just another day of trying to teach you to harness magic yourself.
You also felt the moment it vanished.
Of course her first thought was for you.
You open your eyes.
Your room is a mess. You haven't made your bed in weeks, haven't cleaned, haven't done laundry, haven't been able to leave the house, haven't haven't haven't.
You don't have her anymore.
She would hate to see you like this.
But she can't see you anymore.
And you can't see her.
Except, of course, in that searing last memory of her, silhouetted against the light of a car she only barely saw coming.
You close your eyes.
"Breathe. Let the mana flow through you."
A mantra repeated a thousand, thousand times - but with this repetition, a weight that wasn't there before.
The emotional charge of regret. Of yearning. Of helpless, desperate desire.
The weight of a thousand, thousand moments that you will never get to share with her.
Moments that you should have shared with her.
And, tears burning at the edges of your eyes -
You snap your fingers.
...
And nothing happens.
...
But a memory comes to you.
The first time she managed magic herself.
You remember the very moment it happened.
You remember her being frustrated. Fed up. Nothing she read about was working. None of the magic circles, none of the rituals, none of the chants, none of the symbols, nothing, nothing, nothing was working.
So she decided to vent to you.
She had cried her heart out, said that she could feel it, that she was on the edge of a breakthrough, but that nothing was working.
Emerging from visceral frustration, she concluded with lighthearted complaining.
And she said that magic should be as simple... As simple as...
And you both snapped your fingers at the same time.
And there it was.
You open your eyes.
There it was.
A doll that wears the big hat!
Its witch is out for the day and he left his hat at home!
Nothing really happens when it wears the hat though. There's no inherent power to the hat, after all.
But the doll can't stop looking in the mirror.
It's kinda embarrassing, but it loves how it looks.
The way the brim droops over its face, just barely hiding its eyes at just the right angles...
It makes it feel mysterious! Powerful in a way that's strangely magical, even without magic!
As if all it needed to do to cast magic was snap its fingers -
Like that!
A burst of sparkles!
Like... That...
A doll that underestimates the power of the big hat.
If not for its magical properties -
But for inspiring empowering confidence!
🐭Sad then happy doll noises! Jealous~ I mean, I'm a hellhound, I can literally alter reality to my whims, (or, well, am supposed to be able to but this world kind of sucks in that regard) but the emotion and weight of this kind of magic sounds soooo good.
