Spellbound Heartwood

Fib nervously chuckled as the door swung open, revealing the dusty halls of her home. Declan took a step in and looked around, his brow furrowed.

"This place is awfully... tall," he said. "I suppose that's fitting for your height." Declan's head turned to each door. "Which one are you sat in?"

"Uhhh, well, uhm." Fib placed a hand over her nose. "I am actually elsewhere." She nodded as her nose pressed up into her hand. "Far, far away." It pushed harder, nudging her hand forward.

Declan tilted his head. "That's some impressive magic," he said.

"Yes, yes it is!" She forced her hand against her face, slotting her nose in. "But don't worry about that now." Fib pointed to the room on his left. "That is where we'll be mixing. Head inside."

Walking into the witch's brewery, Declan set Fib down on a table and looked at the no-doubt-bizarre mess of books on the ground and notes everywhere. His eyes grazed across the chalk square, which was fortunately no longer displaying the book store below. Somehow this was all so intensely embarrassing.

"I suppose I don't understand the workflow of a witch," he said.

"Very complicated stuff," she said. Fib pulled off her bag and set it next to the cauldron, peering inside. "Now, I'll get to mixing these ingredients."

"Thank you," he said.

Fib arranged all the ingredients on the table. First went in the milk. Then a few berries and vegetables they had bought from the stores. As if on cue, Berry himself flew up to the windowsill, peering in. Fib gave him a stern eye before returning to her work. She mashed up the vegetables inside and stirred, turning it into a slurry of white.

Rather than wandering off as Fib sort of expected, Declan stood next to her, watching every ingredient that went in. It was actually quite nerve-wracking. Not only was this the first time anyone had really watched her work, it was also the curative for someone's mother. No matter, right? She was a talented witch, or she certainly tried to portray herself as such.

After the slurry was good enough, Fib took the mushroom and crushed it in her hands, balling it up and adding a few little magical words to it. She dropped that in and let it sink to the bottom before she jabbed it with her pestle, crushing it up. Next came the fennel, which Fib cut into pieces and dropped inside.

Fib picked up the jar and looked to the salamander that sat within. It still seemed to be in good spirits. She clasped her clothed wooden hands around it and stared hard at the creature, rattling off more magical words. The salamander wiggled. Good! Declan pursed his lips. She removed a glove, popped open the jar and ran her finger along the salamander's back, then shut it up tight again. A dainty touch of the mix with her finger, and...

"Done!" she said. Fib placed her glove back on.

"Is that truly it?" Declan asked. "Do we need the whole cauldron?"

"Nope. I mean, yes, it is done, but we don't need the whole cauldron. Get a jar from the shelf up there." Fib pointed behind Declan.

He quickly grabbed one.

"Now, place the jar up to where the lip of the cauldron bends." Fib watched him carefully move the jar into place. She pulled on a handle, tilting the pot forward. It gently poured the medicinal gruel into the jar, filling it almost precisely to the top. "Now cover it up. And done!"

Fib stared at Declan as he slowly and firmly placed the jar's lid back into place. He even gently tilted it to make sure it wouldn't leak. She realized then that this would be the end of their get-together. After all, what use did he have for a witch after she cured his one problem? Her body creaked. Oh, well, at least she could do that, right?

"You should come with," he said.

Fib glanced away. "It will work, I'm sure of it."

"Not that. I'll be able to give a reward more easily from the comfort of my own home. And certainly, seeing your curative succeed must bring some joy, right?"

Oh, right, a reward. Fib had discarded the idea of a reward quite some time ago. More like she forgot it and didn't care. This little time with him, with another person who enjoyed her company, was more than enough to satiate her for years to come. But, if he was offering, she wasn't going to turn him down. Fib nodded.

"Hold tightly, then. I don't intend to let go of this jar," he said.

Without blinking, Declan swooped her up into one arm, hand nestling underneath her knees. Her head rested on his shoulder, nestling up against his cheek. Maybe this was reward enough. Striding forward, Declan moved back through the warped abode and ran down the stairs. Fib barely had a moment to lock the door again as he moved.

Declan's long strides stopped, finally, as they approached a small cottage at the very far end of town. Fib almost felt like she was going to fall off at the edge of the known world at this point. All the buildings had given way, leaving only the stone path ahead of them and the rare lamp post as signs that they were still in civilization.

The abode ahead was aged, but clearly well looked after. Sagging, but cheery. Tired, but shiny. Fib realized this would be the first time she would enter someone else's home. Hopefully there wasn't any sort of protocol she had to follow, and if not, well, she had the excuse of being a reclusive witch, right? If she could even carry on that charade anymore.

Declan opened the door, letting an oddly flowery fragrance waft over Fib. It was nice, calming. He stepped inside and set her down, promptly closing the door behind him and locking it. The house, despite its bright exterior, was much darker on the inside, with only sparse candlelight flickering through its halls.

The foyer they were in led to a living area, but directly past that was another long hallway. At the end of that hall sat a door left slightly ajar. Declan quietly walked forward. His soft expression had hardened as he gripped the medicine tightly in his hands. Fib felt out of place, but followed him all the same.

They stopped at the door. Declan looked back at her, nodding to the door. Fib paused, then weakly shook her head. Declan knelt down to her.

"What's wrong?" he whispered.

"I think I'll frighten her," Fib replied.

"I've brought stranger things to try and cure her." He offered a small smile.

That was enough to soothe Fib's wooden nerves. She nodded. Declan stood back up and knocked on the door.

"Mother? I'm back home. I want you to try something," Declan said.

"The man of the house and he still knocks," a voice came. "Come, come."

Declan motioned to Fib as he stepped through.

"I've brought a guest as well," he said. "A witch, even."

Fib wasn't tiny, but she felt incredibly small in this bedroom. It was a large space with a massive bed sat in its center, eating up most of the room. It included a sort of roof to it that had curtains adorning its corners. Fib had never seen anything like it. Almost like some sort of royal bedding, right? She was tall enough to peer over its top, spotting a woman underneath mounds of sheets and lying on awfully puffy pillows. Her hair was a soft red, standing out among the white sheets and her pale skin.

"A witch?" she said. The woman winced and sat up, looking to Fib. "She seems awfully short from what you've mentioned."

Declan moved to her side and leaned over the massive bed, gently easing his mother back into place.

"She's using a doll to be here. Impressive magic, isn't it?" he asked.

"Certainly cute magic." She chuckled. "Not how I imagine a powerful sorceress."

"Well, she is one, and she's helped me make you something to take care of your problems."

"Have you been washing your hands, Declan?"

"Mother, please. I had to do quite a bit of digging to get this, and I could hardly worry about dirt." He raised the jar. "Fib has given me her word that this will heal you."

His mother's voice lowered. "What did you promise her, Declan?"

Declan paused for a moment. "A few coins. Don't fluster over the details. The important thing is that this will work."

"If you trust her, then I suppose I have no hope of dissuading you."

"Not a shred of a chance. Now drink it all." Declan looked to Fib. "All of it, correct?"

Fib gave a shaky nod. She almost forgot she was physically there. Now she wondered if this would work at all. Fib had done everything correctly, she knew that much, but now that someone had to actually use it, paranoia gripped her. What if it went bad? What if it made her worse? Declan would hate her forever. All she could do now was watch in terror.

The jar was handed over to Declan's mother, already unscrewed. She sat upright, easing against the headboard with a sigh, bringing the jar to her lips. Fib's eyes widened and her hands clasped together, knees rubbing against one another. Declan's mother began sipping the thing. Her face scrunched, but she eventually tilted the whole thing back and chugged it. Fib was briefly overcome with surprise at the display.

After the whole thing was finished, his mother smacked her lips and shook her head. Declan looked to Fib expectantly.

"It's... it has to work into your body first," Fib said.

"Right! Right," Declan said.

"Is the doll supposed to look like you?" Declan's mother asked.

"Uh, yes?" Fib replied. Apparently that wasn't a lie, and she supposed it technically wasn't.

"Hm. A shame you couldn't come see us in-person."

"Yes, very much so," Fib replied.

"Here, let's get you settled in comfortably, Fib. I'm sure you'll want to stay and see if this brew works," Declan said. He walked back into the hallway, nodding to Fib.

Declan's mother continued to look at Fib, finger running around the rim of the jar. "How are you going to comfort a doll, dear?" she asked.

"It's polite, mother," Declan replied.

"Thank you," Fib said, scuttling after Declan.

It was relieving to be free of the room. Fib almost felt like the mother of the household was casting her own spell, and Fib worried she would've spontaneously combusted or something. Declan presented the sofa, sitting down on it. Fib took him up on his offer and sat at the far end. Awfully romantic lighting and seating, wasn't it? If only she wasn't absolutely gripped with terror. She twiddled her thumbs, staring into a candle's flickering flame for what felt like an eternity.

"You did make it correctly, right?" Declan asked.

Fib looked to him, finding a touch of helplessness in his gaze. Her hands stopped, resting on her lap.

"I assure you, Declan, I knew all the steps and ingredients. It should work." Her nose seemed to agree, staying in its spot.

He looked into her gaze for a while longer before looking away. "Then I can wait. I'm sure you know how troublesome it is for me."

"I've... never been in a similar situation. I wouldn't even begin to know how you feel, other than miserable."

"It's quite alright." Declan looked to the hallway for a moment. "What kind of payment did you want?"

"That's not needed until it works, don't you think?"

"If it works or not, you should still be paid for your expertise."

"Not really expertise. It's basically built into my body to remember these sorts of concoctions and incantations," Fib said. "I don't think I'm anything special."

"Compared to everyone in the town, you certainly are. Especially being a witch. Having taken the time to help my mother makes you special to me."

Fib let those words rattle around in her head. She was special? Special to Declan of all people? She stifled a giggle, and her eyes widened. No way this was happening. Not a chance. A day ago she would've insisted that her fate was to rot away in a dusty old abode, surrounded by magical knickknacks and scribblings. And yet, here she was, in front of Declan, being called special.

"Th-- Thank you very much," she said.

"Please, I should do all of the thanking."

"You know, um, you're uh, very special to me, too," she said. She wrapped a leg around the other.

Declan tilted his head. "Why's that?"

"You're the only one to ask for my help."

"Well, you are a bit of a recluse, aren't you?"

"I suppose. But you helped me get out of that habit."

Declan offered a smile and nodded. "I hope to see more of you, certainly."

Fib giggled, playing with the hem of her dress. She paused as the sound of a door closing reached her holes for ears. Declan turned back to the source of the noise, immediately jumping to attention and rushing into it.

"Mother? Should you be out of bed?" he asked.

There she was, standing in all her glory, one hand braced on Declan, the other on a nearby wall.

"I ache, but... not a shred of the agony that was there before," she said.

"Did you hear that?" Declan asked cheerily, looking to Fib.

Fib could barely nod.

"Do you think you can make it to the couch, mother?" he asked.

"I could probably skip there." She took a few hasty steps. "Maybe not, but I definitely feel like it."

The mother and son ambled over to the sofa. She eased into it, now sat where Declan once was. Her reddish hair seemed so divine in the light of the candle, almost like a renewed woman. Fib did that. A strange lightness settled on the doll. That was pride with a touch of joy, she figured. Her eyes widened.

"I must admit, I had my doubts," the mother said, "but you've done me a great service. Now I'm sorry I can't thank you in-person." She looked to Declan. "Do we have any more to give her? Some coin won't do."

"I don't need anything from you, really," Fib said. "I'm more than happy to help."

"Modesty is one thing I hadn't expected from a witch." Her expression grew dubious for a moment before softening. "Then accept my sincere thanks at the very least."

Fib bowed her head. Declan was simply smiling, and smiling, and smiling, eyes transfixed on his mother. They should be alone together, shouldn't they? It would be polite. And, Fib had a certain task to tend to, to seal this entire little affair off.

"I should be going now," Fib said. "Have to discard the doll." And become something better.

"Then be sure to come back when you do," Declan's mother said. "Thank you."

"But..." Declan started.

"I'll be back. Thank you for your time," Fib said. "We'll be sure to see each other again!"

Hopping off the couch, Fib gave the humans one last wave and rushed out of the house. It had grown dark, but she remembered the way back, following the ghostly lamp lights back to the distant sleepy town. Her shoes clacked loudly against the stony pathway.

A shadowy thing swooped down and landed shakily on Fib's head as she ran.

"Fun, right?" Berry said. "It was fun? I saw, you had fun!"

"Do you ever stop rubbing things in?" Fib said.

"Who else can I do that to?"

"Yeah, I know the feeling."

"Where are we going now?"

"Home, Berry. I have something to do."

"Yes. I see. Study doll becomes the real girl."

It was strange seeing the town fall asleep in real time. It was less of a sudden switch off than from when Fib saw it from her smudged window up above. Made it all the easier to bolt through town without all the confused stares. Eventually she made it to her home, rushing up the stairs, slamming the door behind her, and running into the mixing room. With a flick of her fingers, the candles inside lit up.

Berry flapped over onto a nearby table and turned his head every which way as he watched Fib. She reached into her bag and began pulling out all the ingredients. Oh, right. The salamander. She picked up the poor thing's jar, popping it free, and opened her window, letting it rush out onto the exterior wall.

"Thanks for your help, friend," Fib said before shutting the window.

"Do you have the hair?" Berry asked.

"No, I'll ask for that as my reward. Tomorrow. I just want this to be ready right now."

"Why do you need it? The hair? Declan's hair?"

Fib stopped. "When I do change, the hair makes me look closer to someone they'd like."

"Declan likes you." He bobbed up and down, mocking a nod. "I saw, study doll. I saw."

"Sure, maybe he likes me, but this whole thing?" She pointed her face and spun her eyes around. "It's weird! It's strange! Everyone looks at me like I'm some kinda weirdo!" Fib began piling ingredients into the cauldron. "If I'm gonna be living without Eloise, I need to be a normal person!" And to catch a certain someone's eye a little better, of course.

A knock came to the door. Fib swiveled her head to look at the hallway, body soon following. Did she hear that right? Another knock. She stepped down and shuffled to the doorway, peering out at the front door. Knock, knock, knock.

"Hello?" Fib called out.

"Fib?" Declan's voice came.

"Uh, uhm, I'm a little busy at the moment!"

"I'd like to talk about your reward. I can't let you go without something in return, I just can't."

"O-Oh, that's fine! We can speak about it tomorrow!"

"I can't wait until tomorrow. It will bother me all night."

Ugh, why did he have to be so nice?! Fib shook her head and moved to the door, opening it. There he was, in all of his glory yet again, practically towering over her. He gently closed the door behind him, giving her a nod. This felt different, almost confrontational.

"I must admit, I also had a question about you."

"Yes?" Fib turned her head.

"You're... not the actual witch that lived here, are you?" He knelt down, resting on a knee, now slightly below her.

Fib's body lightly jittered, softly rattling. "I am!" she blurted out. Her nose shifted, but she was too gripped by worry to reach up for it. "I mean, I will be." Further. "It's my puppet!" And further. "I mean, ha ha, living dolls aren't even real!" And further. Her eyes began to quiver, unable to keep her gaze on Declan. She struggled to move her hand up. "I didn't do this to get close to you!" And further. "I don't love you!" She managed to put a finger on her nose, just as it extended one more time. A shaky hand pushed her nose back in. "I--"

Declan grabbed her shoulders and turned his head, gracing her wooden lips with a kiss. The shaking stopped, and her eyes closed. Was it possible for something to be so soft? So warm? Her arms reached out, wrapping around back the nape of his neck. All those worried thoughts in her head buzzed, but she could hardly hear them. Her own lips had little in the way of offering their own pleasure, so she let him do most of the work.

Eventually, they parted. Fib blinked, unsure if any of that really happened.

"How did you know?" she asked softly.

"Well, it wasn't too hard to piece together. Your nose seemed to do most of the work when you were unsure about something." He tapped her nose with a finger. "I think it was easiest to realize when there was nobody else here but you."

"Sorry." She looked to the ground, rubbing her foot into it. "I thought... It's not every day someone sees a walking doll, and-- and-- and I figured, being a real witch would make it..." She shrugged. "Fantastical, and not scary."

"Well, excuse me for saying, but it's quite hard to think of you as anything but cute." Declan tentatively put a hand up to his mouth. "I suppose that means what you've just said is true, isn't it? Or wrong, with the way you phrased it."

Fib deflated. "Yes."

"How would you have fallen in love with me? We've never met."

Oh, why did he have to ask such hard questions? Probably best to just show him. Fib grabbed his hand and led him into the mixing room. Berry hopped nearby, curiously gawking at the both of them.

"You have a bird?" he asked.

"Don't mind him," Fib replied.

Berry offered a squawk. Oh, so she had to pour her soul out, but he could just pretend to be a dumb bird. Figures.

She repeated the drawing ritual she had done with the chalk so many times before, a simmering embarrassment inside her. The floor gave way, revealing the book store underneath. She looked up at Declan.