The girl is exactly where I was told she would be – under the willow tree by her mother’s grave. She is hunched over, complaining about her step-sisters between sobs. Despite all that, I must admit, she is beautiful. Fair, blonde, slender… she is everything the prince would want from his bride. She would do.
A spin of my index finger, two words whispered into the wind, punctuated with my intent, and the silencing spell comes to life. I start walking towards her on noiseless steps, though my chest beats like a drum and my lungs struggle to hold air. The transfiguration spell has turned me into an old hag in tattered rugs, and the spell of invisibility I have cast to put on a convincing act in front of her are already competing for the small reserves of my intent. Stacking a third spell is making me see stars.
Slowly, cautiously, I approach the girl. I walk around her, getting a good view. All this girl wants is to go to the ball, to catch the prince’s eye. As if that would make her life any better. Worse, probably.
As soon as I hear her utter the words, “please, Mother, give me a miracle,” I drop the spells of invisibility and silence. Intent returns to me, and I can finally breathe again.
The girl lifts her head, and I find myself staring into bright, blue eyes. Red lines her eyes and dots her nose. Ugh! She even cries pretty. One dainty palm wipes away the tears as she stares me down from head to toes.
“W-who are you?” Before I can regurgitate the half-baked story I have been repeating under my breath, she chirps, “Are you my fairy godmother?”
Fairy godmother? That sounds even more ridiculous than the story I was going to give her: that I am her mother’s friend from before she was born. If she really is as dumb as they say, it would be in my best interest to play along.
“Sure, child. I am here to make all your difficulties go away. Tell me, what is it that you most desire?”
“I wish to go to the ball. I wish to wear a pretty dress and dance with the prince and feast on all the miniature foods brought out on silver trays. Can you make that happen?” I had half-expected her to ask for riches, or a caring husband, or any of the thousand things that would make her life comfortable. Instead, she wastes her wish on… a ball? She is definitely well-suited for the prince.
“Oh but of course, I can, child. However, to go to the ball, we must make you look like a princess. First, the dress. Maybe something a little more… flattering?” I wave my wand, chanting the transfiguration spell out loud.
I don’t need the wand or the waving gestures. These spells are not that complicated. My intent and the words do the trick. But theatrics make the act more believable.
Her stained and faded dress slowly changes to a beautiful, blue ballgown with puffed sleeves. Matching blue gloves end just above her elbows. Her hair changes from a greasy, unkempt mess to smooth, silky bun on top of her head. Everything I know of the prince’s taste, I add to the performance. For shoes, I design elegant blue heels, but then I remember how much the prince hates when I put on shoes, so I convert her heels to transparent glass. I do layer them with a cushioning spell so they don’t hurt her feet. I’m not a monster.
Quite a transformational masterpiece, if I say so myself.
“Thank you, fairy godmother. I feel like a princess.”
“And now for the ride…”
Over the next half an hour, I transform a pumpkin into a carriage, geese into horses, and mice into ushers. The cart slowly starts pulling out of the cemetery, and I start to feel my intent burn my skin from all the overuse. Thankfully, spells on inanimate objects require a fraction of my intent compared to spells on people, but stacking so many spells would be taxing even for an experienced witch. I am a novice. I don’t have enough intent to sustain the spells indefinitely.
“Remember,” I take slow, feeble steps alongside the carriage, “the spells will break at midnight. Keep an eye on the giant clock above the fireplace. Leave before the clock strikes midnight.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know I messed up. Why would a fairy know about the giant clock above the fireplace? My heart leaps into my mouth as her brows draw closer. My breath comes hitched as I wait for her to say something.
“Midnight? That’s plenty of time! Thank you so much, fairy godmother!” The excitement in her voice brings breath to my lungs. Well, at least she didn’t notice what should have been obvious.
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