Midnight

Midnight stretched lazily on the windowsill, each movement making sure to conserve as much energy as possible while making sure to absorb the last warm rays of the setting sun. His golden eyes followed the frantic movements of his witch, Morgan as she hurried around their small living space. As usual, the air was thick with the smell of incense, a familiar comfort that usually lulled Midnight into a peaceful sleep.

​

Tonight was a little different. Tonight, Morgan was on edge and Midnight could feel it. Morgan has spent the evening brewing, and while Midnight had no idea what it was, he could still smell it in the air, something dark and acrid mixing with the usually sweet-smelling incense. He watched as Morgan pulled on her deep purple cloak, the one reserved for coven meetings.

 

“Be good, Midnight,” Morgan whispered, scratching behind his ears. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

 

Midnight purred instinctively at her touch, even as anxiety gnawed at his insides. He'd been Morgan's familiar for years, bound by magic. But lately, something felt different. The coven meetings had become more frequent, more secretive. In the past, Morgan had often taken him along where he’d sit lazily with the other familiars, listening idly to their chatter. Not anymore though.

 

Midnight had been planning this for weeks and as soon as the door clicked shut, he leapt from the windowsill onto the cold stone floor. It was time to investigate.

 

As usual the door had been sealed, but Midnight had his own ways to come and go as he pleases. He was a witch’s familiar after all. His golden eyes pierced the shadows in the early evening sun as he made his way to the old theatre where the coven met. The abandoned building loomed before him, its façade now crumbling and covered in ivy.

 

Midnight crept through one of the broken windows, his movements slow and silky and followed the sound of voices. In the middle of the old auditorium, seven witches sat in a circle, a candle flickering in front of each of them. Morgan was amongst them, her face stern. None of the other familiars were here either.

 

Midnight approached the circle carefully. They couldn’t know he was here. He saw Magda, the oldest of the coven, speaking at the top of the circle. Her face covered in its usual dark red veil. Without making a sound, he inched closer, close enough so he could hear what they were discussing.

 

“…the seven of us will finally gain what we’ve been working for all these years…”

 

Midnight raised his ears to their fullest, straining to hear more. Morgan was speaking now.

 

“…the brew is progressing. It should be ready for tomorrow night. There is plenty of it for us all…”

 

“What is it’s potency?” Magda asked, her face turning slowly in Morgan’s direction.

 

“It is strong.” Morgan replied. Her face impassive.

 

“If we are as strong, The Night Spell should take no more than an hour to complete.”

 

“And what of our familiars?” another witch asked, and from her voice, Midnight guessed it would be Samantha.

 

“They are magical creatures, they will survive.” Magda replied dismissively.

 

“The spell takes only from the non-magical.”

 

Midnight crouched lower in the darkness, half closing his golden eyes as Magda rose to her feet, the other witches following.

 

“Tomorrow then, my friends. And when the Night Spell is completed and there is nothing non-magical left of this place, we move on. We will move on with youth and with power.”

 

Midnight felt the hair on his tail stand on end and his back arch as if the words themselves might harm him. This was wrong. He had to do something, but what? He was bound to the witch who seems intent on casting this terrible spell.

 

He slipped away, the sounds of the coven chanting ringing in his ears. Where should he go? Athena, she’d hear him out. He wouldn’t have long though; the coven meeting will be over soon, and Morgan would expect him to be at home still.

 

The oak tree, that’s where to start, she’ll be there watching, he thought. Midnight ran as fast as he could, squeezed back through the hole in the broken window and out into the night. The huge, ancient oak in the park was easy to see from all around and as he approached, the familiar soft hooting drew his golden eyes upwards.

 

“Well, well,” came a voice like the wind through the leaves.

 

“What brings Morgan’s shadow to my tree?”

 

Athena perched on one of the upper branches. A tawny owl with eyes almost as bright as Midnight’s. Samantha’s familiar.

 

“Athena, please, we need to talk, quickly!” Midnight pleaded. He knew they didn’t have long. Athena would be keeping an eye on the coven from here and would know when the meeting was over.

 

“You know I can’t come down,” she replied haughtily. “If you want to speak with me, you’ll just have to climb up here.” She continued, turning her head away from him.

 

Midnight sighed. He didn’t have time for this but there was no choice, he knew Athena would not be swayed. He started climbing, claws digging into the rough bark of the ancient oak, his dark fur shaking with the effort.

Athena watched his progress with amusement from the corners of her eyes.

 

As he finally reached her high branch, holding tightly, Midnight wasted no time.

 

“Athena, it’s the coven, they’re going to perform The Night Spell.”

 

Athena ruffled her feathers, all signs of amusement faded from her eyes.

 

“The Night Spell? Are… are you sure?” The owl stuttered, her eyes narrowing.

 

“Yes, I’ve just overheard them, they’re going to perform the spell tomorrow night. We need to do something.”

 

“You overheard them?” Athena pressed. “You mean you were spying?”

 

Midnight’s nose twitched in frustration. “You must have been feeling it too. We haven’t been to a coven meeting for months. Morgan has been acting distant for weeks, all our witches have, and that brew she’s been working on, it’s all been in preparation for this.”

 

Athena stared at Midnight, examining him in the silence between them for a moment before she responded.

 

“Such magic upsets the balance of our world.” Athena answered distantly.

 

“What can we do?” Midnight pressed.

 

Athena paused, thinking. "Perhaps two familiars aren't enough to stop them. But we're not the only magical creatures in this city, are we?"

 

Without waiting for Midnight and, with a powerful beat of her wings, Athena took flight. Midnight scrambled down the tree and raced after her, his black fur blending into the night as he struggled to keep her in sight. They reached the small pond at the centre of the park where Athena landed gracefully and silently on one of the branches of an overhanging tree.

 

"Melusine," Athena called softly. “Are you there?”

 

At her words, the surface of the water shimmered and rippled. Midnight watched as a face began to form, it was delicate and fluid.

 

"Athena, wise one," Melusine’s voice sang. "And Midnight, the shadow-walker. What brings you to my banks?"

 

Once again, Midnight recounted what he’d heard. Melusine’s watery features darkened like a storm cloud.

 

"This cannot come to pass," she said, her voice like rapids over rocks. "The balance must be maintained. I will help you."

 

"Thank you, Melusine," Athena said softly.

 

Midnight’s tail twitched anxiously. “Who else can we turn to? The coven meeting will be ending soon.”

 

Athena’s eyes gleamed. “There is one more who could help us.”

 

“Who?” Midnight asked.

 

“We need to find Kitsune.” Athena said simply.

 

Melusine’s watery form rippled. “Kitsune? The shapeshifting fox? I’ve heard of her trickery, are we sure she can be trusted with this?”

 

“It’s worth a try, her abilities are powerful, and this threat may be grave enough to rouse her interest.”

 

Midnight looked towards the forest on the outskirts of the park. “How do we find her?”

 

“I’m pretty sure she’s already listening.” Athena said with a chuckle.

 

“You know me too well, Athena!” a high voice said from the darkness behind them,. Midnight, jumped at the sound, his fur on end at the intrusion.  

 

“Then you’ll already know what we want to ask of you, Kitsune.” Athena responded, the calm in her features not wavering for a moment.

 

“Yes, the Night Spell.” Kitsune said simply, shaking her head. “A tough one, maybe it’s what the world needs?”

 

“You don’t mean that!” Midnight shouted, “you must help us stop them, you know this is wrong!”

 

“Perhaps.” Kitsune said airily, turning and strolling back towards the forest, her multiple tails swaying hypnotically. “I’ll think about it.”

 

The next day, Midnight was restless. Every instinct screamed at him to warn Morgan, to somehow make her understand that what she was about to do was wrong, but he knew it wouldn’t work, her face was set. With every passing hour, she became more manic as she prepared for the meeting that night. Before the sun set, Midnight crept out and made his way back to the ancient Oak tree where they’d agreed to meet.

 

“Where is Kitsune?” Midnight said, failing to keep the note of panic from his voice.

 

“It would seem we may have to do this without her,” Athena sighed. “She was never reliable, but it was worth a try.”

 

Midnight took a deep, calming breath, trying to supress the disappointment he felt at Kitsune’s absence, and together, they made their way back to the old theatre and waited.

 

As darkness fell, Midnight watched as the seven witches came together. Morgan was there in her dark purple robe, taking her place in the circle, a large container stood in the middle. As one, they began to chant, their voices coming together in a haunting harmony.

 

Midnight looked at Athena as she took flight. It was time their plan sprang into action.  Athena swooped around the large auditorium, her wings spread wide, emitting an ear-piercing screech which rang around the empty, cavernous room. The chanting stopped as the witches covered their ears, desperately trying to block out the terrible noise.

 

Melusine’s voice suddenly rose above the chaos, summoning a thick mist that rolled through the room. Midnight knew it was his turn now, keeping his golden eyes fixed on where the centre of the circle would me, he darted quickly and silently through the mist towards the cauldron.  But then Magda’s voice rose above them all, strong and terrible. The other witches rallied, their voice joining hers as the mist began to lift. He was so nearly there when he felt a rough had grab him by the fur and lift him up into the air.

 

“Midnight, what are you doing!” Morgan scowled.

 

Midnight watched in horror as a dark swirling cloud began to form above them, the dark, acrid smell he was so familiar with filled his senses. They’d failed. The spell was happening.

A movement suddenly caught his eye at the centre of the circle. It was another cat with dark fur and golden eyes. He watched it stroll slowly and purposefully towards the cauldron and then, placing a single paw against it, pushed.

 

“No!” the witches cried in unison as Midnight fell to the ground. The brew gushing out across the floor.

Together, the witches fell to their knees, the dark cloud they’d summoned now descending towards them and with a final scream, the cloud and the witches, were gone.

 

The room was empty once more. Midnight looked above and saw Athena circling before looking back towards the cauldron, now empty and lying on its side.

 

“You helped us after all.”

 

The dark-furred cat turned its golden eyes on him, its form shimmering slightly. With a mischievous glint in its eye, the cat's shape began to change, elongating into the familiar form, its seven tails flowing behind.

 

"I couldn't let you have all the fun, now could I?" Kitsune said, her voice light and playful.

 

"What happens now?" Midnight asked, gazing at the spot where Morgan once stood.

 

“Well, that’s now entirely up to you.” Kitsune said, as Athena landed softly beside them.

 

“I’m sure you’ll both think of something.”