Dark but not gloomy it stood proud and old Radiating power, noble, in its fold. Soaring with magic in its untapped grotto. Protect and shield was Cravenwold’s motto. Humans ne’er see or hear and if they do, they soon forgot,
What was there and what was not.
(Outside of Dublin, Ireland, deep in the woods was the village of Cravenwold and its Academy for witches and warlocks.)
CONCERNED THAT SHE was too late, Jodi picked up her pace as she weaved through the dark woods. Her wand, which was made from a Rowan tree, stuck out of her back pocket. She reached for it and held it tightly in her grasp. She was headed for trouble. Every fiber of her being told her that.
Her pink-streaked platinum colored hair blew across her face as an unexpected wind picked up. The wind held elements of magic—dark magic. That was bad, so bad.
A sudden pelting of harsh rain hit her face. Something wanted to keep her away. Well, that was good—right? If it didn’t want her there, then it must have thought she was powerful enough to worry about. She trudged on.
She put out her hands and steadied herself against a tall pine, as she avoided tripping over roots and small bushes. She pointed her wand and softly said, “Ease my path.”
Slowly, a footpath appeared. It was clear of all obstacles. Jodi smiled, she was pleased with herself. Something was going down and she had to get there and stop it before…before anyone else died.