Post Chapter Six - Hazel

There was a tree that was situated on the other side of a large stone wall. Even with the shifting of the market, the wall had somehow stayed, as if to protect the tree from any of the dangers that now wandered. Hazel silently thanked the luck that had befallen said tree. She had been certain that it would be destroyed along with everything else. The market was looking more and more like a stranger these days. She loathed to admit that it left her feeling empty.

The apothecary had been decidedly slower so when the morning dawned and Hazel yet again found herself with no orders, she had decided to wander.. To try and help where she could. When she found herself near the large tree with the gnarled branches that reached high above the broken lanterns, she stopped. She used to come here with Milo. With… she used to come here a lot. To look out over the realm. To watch the people dance during the lantern festival. To gain perspective. So when she found herself climbing the tree, it was really no surprise. The deep branches had always offered a certain solitude that the apothecary could not. Hazel was convinced that the tree itself was imbued with magic.

Settling, she pulled her messenger back from around her shoulder and hung it from one of the branches. She leaned against the branch, swearing she could feel a pair of arms wrap around her. A memory perhaps. The feel and smell of a person who had once loved her. Hazel enjoyed seeing them in her dreams and wondered if they actually existed. Or if her mind was just running away with her again.

There was a small flutter above her and a slight creak to the branches above. It caught Hazel’s attention only moments after she had perched on her own branch. Peering upwards, Hazel pushed her hair from her eyes. A man sat above her, his lanky frame situated upon the branch and his long coattails draped behind him.

“Hello,” he greeted. Pale blue eyes stared down at her.

Hazel couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. The man himself looked somewhat amused. A chance meeting on the boughs of a tree.  “Hello. I wasn’t aware anyone else was here.”

“Just got here,” the man said. “Don’t suppose I could come share a branch with you.”

Hazel scooted over, motioning for him to join her. She watched as he twisted his body around, holding onto the branch before expertly dropping next to her. This close, Hazel could see the sharp bones of his fingers and the shimmer of magic that coated him.

As he settled, he looked out over the market, his eyes growing a bit wide as he surveyed the surroundings. He let out a low whistle. “Lights are out,” he observed.

“They have been for a bit.”

“Thought they would be back on by now,” he said. “Guess I’m here a bit early.”  He had a strange way of speaking and Hazel wondered how he even got here. The gates were closed. But the magic on him was far more potent than what usually hid within the streets. Power thrummed with every breath and Hazel was almost certain she could see different forms of him, shifting across various branches of the tree. 

“What are you doing up here?” he asked. Then, quickly, he waved his hands. “Never mind. Don’t tell me. Sorry about that. I forget sometimes that people aren’t just automatically willing to tell a stranger a story.”

The thought that she should be nervous hadn’t even crossed her mind. Which, she could acknowledge was a stark difference to the years before but she couldn’t pinpoint what had changed.

“Are you a traveler?” she asked him.

“You could say that. Try to be at least. Sometimes it doesn’t work out.”

“You have a lot of magic on you.”

He looked at her out of the side of his eye with a coy smile. “So do you.”

At that, Hazel looked at her hands. They were stained black at the tips now. The beds of her nails looking charred.  “Do I? I can’t always see it. I– Can you tell if it’s mine?”

The man turned to get a good look at her, taking a moment to study her. Hazel waited with baited breath. His words shouldn’t matter. She knew this. But, she had no one else to talk to anymore.

“Most of it,” he finally concluded. “The big parts are. Little bits here and there are not yours, though. Yours adjacent, maybe? Demonic and something other.”

“Demonic?” Hazel frowned.  “Are you sure?”

“Oh yeah. I know my demons. Believe you me.”

Hazel assumed the something ‘other’ was her mother. She wondered if the woman had reached out to another to help control her this time around. Though she didn’t see Lucinda dealing with demons. She had always had a disdain for them. The fact that Hazel could even recall that was a revelation all in itself.

“Sorry,” he winced. “I do that sometimes.”

“Do what?” She didn’t think she had said it outloud.

“I make magic go a little awry. Things can get mixed up around me. See, I exist in several different timelines at once. Normally, not a big deal here in the Night Market. But it can mix with some of the more potent magics. Almost like one magic doesn’t like the other. I think I just pushed something out of your mind that wasn’t supposed to be pushed, Though, looks like maybe you’ll be a bit more free thinking now. At least until you leave this tree.”

Hazel blinked at him. “I think my mother is trying to control me,” she said bluntly.

The man hissed. “Have some experience in that one. My sympathies.”

“I haven’t been able to even say that outloud.”

“Glad I can help.”

But the second she left this tree, it would be gone. What help was it really if clarity only came when she was high above the world, away from it all. She had stumbled across the tree. Had practically forgotten about it. There was something in her that had led her to the branches but would it do it again?

“I don’t suppose you want to follow me around for the foreseeable future,” she whispered.

The man gave her a soft smile. “I’m afraid my time here is pretty limited. I shouldn’t even be here, if we’re being honest.”

Hazel swallowed thickly, feeling the tears well in her eyes.

“Oh. Oh no. Nononono. Don’t cry. I– Okay. What if I do something for you. Uh. This tree. You feel good at this tree right?”

Tears were running down her face now, heaving sobs threatening to break her chest apart. She was being puppeteered yet again and she had a suspicion she had allowed it. All because there was a pain somewhere inside her that she hadn’t wanted to face.

“Here.” There was a harsh snap and a burst of magic. “Come back to this tree.” He pressed a stick in her hand. Just a small offshoot that he had snapped. “I’m going to get an earful for doing that but let's face it, I’m a sucker for tears. Plus, I have a feeling this might help an old friend out.”

Hazel curled her fingers around the stick, feeling the foreign magic pulse around her fingers. “How will it protect me? Will it keep me clear headed?”

“No. But it will make you remember this tree. And if you can hold onto that, you can come back here. Following that nagging feeling of leaving the stove on. Then when you get here, you can soak up the magic more. Hopefully remember.”

“But how?” she asked with a shake of her head.

“Because this tree doesn’t like to see pain. And you, little witchly, are in a lot of pain.”

The tears fell more rapidly but Hazel clutched the branch and held it to her heart. She didn’t want to feel any of this. But she also didn’t want to give Lucinda the satisfaction of playing the games she did when her and Malcolm were little. She had to get Malcolm here as well. Wash him clean of the magic that she was certain was on him as well.

“Thank you,” she whispered, wiping her eyes. 

The man gave her a pained smile. “It’s not a lot. I know. But, I do hope it helps.” he was kicking his feet back and forth. Clearly ready to leave.

Hazel waved him away. “Go. You said you were here for something. I’m sorry for keeping you.”

“No! No, don’t worry about it. I just– yeah. I only got a limited time here and… well. Another story, perhaps.” Standing, he looked down at her. “I hope things work out for you, Hazel. I really really do. You seem sweet. And sweet people don’t get enough help in life.”

She looked up at him. “I never caught your name.”

He grinned, giving her a wink. “Caliban.” With a burst of feathers, the man turned into a raven, swooping down from the tree branches and into the dark.

Hazel followed his form for as long as she could. “Thank you, Caliban.” The stick was clenched tightly in her hands, the tree singing to her from behind.