Galderall Thorn and the Binding of the Thorn Family Magic: a Myrtlewood microfiction

Galderall Thorn ascended the narrow, winding staircase that led to the tower of Thorn Manor. Her footsteps were soft but deliberate, each one echoing the weight of the danger she had sensed. It wasn’t just her life at risk, it was also the life of her young granddaughter Rosemary, as well as the rest of the family and the entire Thorn legacy.

The tower room was her sanctuary, a place filled with the scent of herbs, old books, and the flickering light of candles. It was also the room where she felt closest to her ancestors.

She approached the cauldron that sat in the middle of the room, its dark surface reflecting the dancing flames of the candles around it.

With a deep breath, Galderall began the scrying spell, her hands moving in intricate patterns as she chanted words of ancient power. The water in the cauldron shimmered, and images began to form.

She’d been scrying every day, recently, as news of attacks spread around the magical community. Several old powerful families had succumbed to the darkness, either choosing to seek power, or having their magic cruelly ripped from them.

Galderall’s first instinct was to organize the witching community and fight against the threat, but her scrying suggested all would be for naught.

As she gazed into her cauldron for the fifth time that week, her heart sank, yet again.

Shadows moving in the dark resembling a bat and a wolf, a broken chalice, and a pool of blood – ominous signs pointing to the growing threat of the Bloodstone Society. For centuries they had been amassing power and Galdie’s ancestors had put careful protections in place to keep them away, but despite the Thorn’s best efforts now the Bloodstones were getting closer.

Closer to her family, closer to the little girl whose destiny was to carry on the legacy if only she had half a chance.

Galdie felt the room grow colder, as if Thorn Manor itself sensed the gravity of the situation. The thought of putting her granddaughter at risk twisted her heart in agony.

Rosemary – with her wild red hair and untamed spirit – was still so young, her magical abilities just beginning to blossom.

“There must be some way forward,” Galdie muttered.

The house creaked sympathetically in response and the cauldron’s surface swam and morphed to reveal a new vision: a bundle of herbs, salt, twine.

Galderall recognised the binding ritual instantly.

“Oh dear me. No…”

She exhaled deeply, then drew in a sharp breath.

“If I bind the family powers we’ll be defenceless…” but the image shifted again and slowly Galdie understood a path forward.

Rosemary’s magic already shone so brightly and the fact that her stubborn parents wouldn’t let her live within the family’s stronghold made them all vulnerable. A subtle binding would protect her, and help to keep the ancient spells in place.

Galdie let out a mournful sigh.

To bind Rosemary’s abilities would be to alter the course of her life, to deny her a part of her heritage.

But what choice did Galderall have? The alternative was far worse.

“The binding will only be partial,” she muttered to herself. “And temporary. Rosemary will learn of magic later but for now she will be protected.”

With trembling hands, Galderall extinguished the candles, plunging the room into darkness. She stood there for a moment, gathering her strength, her resolve hardening like a crystal in her chest. She would have to protect Rosemary, but binding her magic seemed too cruel. The decision would have to wait, and Galdie hoped that in the meantime other options might emerge.

***

Galdie was in her sitting room, flipping through an old spell book when she heard the soft thud of mail landing on the doormat. With a sigh, she marked her place in the book and went to collect the post. Among the usual bills and newsletters, a cream-coloured envelope caught her eye. It was heavier than the others, and she could feel the weight of its significance even before she opened it.

Her eyes fell on the wax seal—a shield with a crow, snake, wolf, and a Celtic knot intricately stamped into it.

She recognised it immediately and her heart filled with dread.

Her instinct was to throw the letter into the fire at once, but something held her back. She had to know what these enemies were planning.

Her fingers tingled with a sense of foreboding. The wax was a deep, blood-red, and its scent was a mixture of lavender and something darker, more sinister. It was a smell that spoke of old magic, of secrets best left buried.

Unfolding the parchment, her eyes scanned the words: "You are cordially invited to the symposium of the Bloodstone Society."

The letter went on to provide an address in Burkenswood and a time and date for the sixth of June.

Galdie's heart sank. The Bloodstone Society was no mere social club; it was an organization known for its ruthless pursuit of magical power, often at the expense of others.

The fact they’d sent her a letter meant they were giving her an Ultimatum—go along and join them or perish. Galdie had no intention of succumbing to the twisted darkness of the Bloodstones. Those who did became hollow creatures interested only in power. That was no kind of life worth living, and yet, the fact that they could send her this letter at all meant that they’d penetrated the outer layers of her magical protections that kept all ill intentions out of Thorn Manor.

The room seemed to close in on Galderall, the walls pulsating like the chambers of a heart. The scent of the wax filled her nostrils, mingling with the musty aroma of the old books that lined her shelves. Her senses were heightened, every detail magnified.

Galdie carefully refolded the letter and placed it back in its envelope. She tucked it into her book, knowing that she might need it later for scrying or as a clue to whatever the Bloodstone Society was planning.

But the invitation had served its purpose; it was a message, a warning. The Bloodstones were closing in, and time was running out. Galdie knew she had to act, and act fast. Her thoughts turned to Rosemary, and to the binding spell she had been contemplating. The decision weighed heavy on her, but as she looked at the drawer where she had placed the letter, she knew time was running out.

And so, with the scent of lavender and dark magic still lingering in the air, Galdie began to prepare. The Bloodstone Society had thrown down the gauntlet, and she, in turn, would rise to the challenge. It was a dangerous game they were playing, but Galdie was a Thorn, and Thorns did not bow, even in the fiercest of storms.

***

Galderall stood at the edge of the garden, her eyes following the joyful movements of young Rosemary as she danced among the flowers. The sun was shining brightly, casting a golden glow on the vibrant blooms and the child's long wild curls of red hair. The air was thick with the scent of lemon balm, its soothing aroma mingling with the laughter that filled the space.

Rosemary seemed to be in her own world, her small hands reaching out to touch the petals, the leaves, as if she were communicating with them.

Galdie had never seen a child so attuned to the energies of nature, so naturally magical, and yet so blissfully unaware of it. Her heart swelled with love and pride but also tightened with a growing sense of dread.

Rosemary's spark was blazing so bright, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her shielded from the prying eyes of those who would do her harm. Galdie had been careful, so careful, to protect her granddaughter from anything that would make her a target. But as she watched Rosemary twirl and laugh, she knew that mere caution would not be enough.

Just then, Rosemary seemed to sense her grandmother's gaze. She stopped her dance and ran towards Galdie, her eyes shining with innocent curiosity.

"Granny, what's magic?" she asked, looking up with an expression so open, so trusting, it made Galdie's heart ache.

Galderall looked down into those bright eyes and felt her resolve strengthen. "Magic, my dear, is the heartbeat of the world. It's in the wind that rustles the leaves, the rain that feeds the flowers, and the love that fills our hearts," she said, her voice tinged with a wisdom born of years and experience.

"But can people do magic? Like in the stories?" Rosemary's voice was excited, her imagination already running wild.

Galdie paused, choosing her words carefully. "Some people can, yes. But magic is a gift that comes with great responsibility. It's not something to be taken lightly."

Rosemary seemed to ponder this, her young mind grappling with the weight of her grandmother's words. "Will I do magic one day, Granny?"

Galdie felt a lump form in her throat. "Everything you do is a kind of magic, my love. Now, let's enjoy the sunshine and the flowers, before we have Marjie’s scones for afternoon tea, shall we?"

Rosemary grinned and twirled around again, her attention drifted back to the garden, but Galdie knew that the question would return, and with it, the challenges it posed.

As she watched Rosemary pluck a dandelion, her heart was filled with a love so profound it pained her. She knew what she had to do, and as difficult as it would be, she would do it to protect this precious life.

***

Several nights later, Galderall stood in the dimly lit tower, her eyes scanning the shelves filled with glass jars of herbs, bones, and other arcane ingredients. Each item had a purpose, a specific magical property, and today she would need them more than ever. With meticulous care, she began to gather what she needed: mugwort for visions, salt for protection, and a lock of Rosemary's red hair that she'd saved from the girl's last visit.

This special room was a sacred space, a place where Thorn witches had performed their most potent spells. The air was thick with the residue of past incantations, and Galdie felt it cling to her as she moved. She arranged the ingredients in a circle around the cauldron, their placement as crucial as the words she would soon speak.

Taking a deep breath to steady her shaking hands, she lit the charcoal in the cauldron. A plume of fragrant smoke rose, curling in the air as if reaching for something intangible. Galdie began to chant, her voice low but clear, each syllable a note in a sorrowful melody. She dropped the ingredients into the cauldron one by one, watching as they sizzled and popped, their energies merging and amplifying.

As she reached the climax of the ritual, she held the lock of Rosemary's hair over the cauldron. "By blood and root, by thorn and tree, I bind thee," she whispered, dropping the hair into the flames. A burst of energy erupted from the cauldron, rippling through the room and beyond, its waves cascading through the very walls of Thorn Manor.

Galderall staggered back, feeling as if she'd been emptied, drained. The room seemed to darken, the air growing heavier. She knew she had succeeded, but the cost was immense.

She sank to her knees, her body trembling from the exertion and the emotional toll. Thorn Manor seemed to sigh around her, its ancient timbers creaking, as if sharing in her sorrow. She had done it. She had bound the magic, hidden it away where not even the insidious tendrils of the Bloodstone Society could reach.

But as she sat there in the dim light, surrounded by the echoes of her ancestors and the lingering scent of burnt herbs, Galdie felt her own magic withering, just a little. A part of her spirit, her lineage, now lay dormant, waiting for a future she could not yet see.

With a heavy heart, she extinguished the cauldron's flame. There was much more to do, and time was a luxury she could no longer afford.

***

Years had passed in the blink of an eye. Galdie was sitting in her study when she heard a knock and the door to Thorn Manor creaked open.

She got up and made her way toward the front door to see Rosemary bursting in, her red hair cascading like a fiery waterfall down her back, her green eyes sparkling with excitement. Behind her stood a man, his tanned skin possessing an unearthly gleam that immediately caught Galdie's attention.

"Granny, this is Dain," Rosemary introduced, her voice full of nervous excitement.

Galdie extended her hand, her eyes meeting Dain's. In that moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them. She knew what he was, and he knew that she knew. "Pleased to meet you, Dain," she said, her voice steady but not warm.

"The pleasure is mine," Dain replied, his tone equally reserved, his eyes never leaving Galdie's.

Rosemary clearly sensed the tension, her eyes darting between her grandmother and Dain. "Is everything alright?" she asked, a hint of concern creeping into her voice.

"Of course, my dear," Galdie assured her, though her eyes remained fixed on Dain. "Why don't we all sit down for some tea?"

As they moved to the sitting room, Galdie couldn't help but notice how Dain's shoulders seemed to tighten, as if bracing himself. She knew that fae often struggled with the earth realm, especially its dairy-related trappings.

Once seated, Galdie began to pour the tea. She filled Rosemary's cup first, adding a splash of milk as she knew her granddaughter liked. Then she turned to Dain, pouring his tea but leaving out the milk.

"How did you know he was lactose intolerant?" Rosemary asked, genuinely surprised.

"A wise old crone just knows these things," Galdie replied, giving Dain a pointed look.

Dain met her gaze, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, as if acknowledging a move in a complex game. "You're very perceptive," he said, choosing his words carefully.

"One has to be in this world," Galdie responded, her voice tinged with a caution that was not lost on him.

Rosemary must have sensed the undercurrents but chose to stay silent, sipping her tea and wondering what lay beneath the surface of this seemingly simple conversation. She looked at her grandmother, then at Dain, sensing that their relationship would be anything but straightforward.

Later that day, Galdie found herself standing at the window, watching as Rosemary walked arm in arm with Dain through the garden. Dain was undeniably handsome, his fae features almost ethereal in the dappled sunlight, but there was a slyness to his smile that made Galdie uneasy.

Rosemary seemed happier than she had been in years, her laughter more frequent, her smiles brighter. But Galdie knew that happiness often came at a price, especially for those touched by magic.

Her fears seemed to be confirmed one evening when she overheard them talking in hushed tones about the "energies of the moon" and "the secrets of the forest." Words that were dangerously close to the realm of magic. Galdie felt her heart sink. Had Dain awakened something in Rosemary? Had the binding spell begun to unravel?

But as days turned into weeks, Galdie noticed something peculiar. Rosemary would forget things—she couldn’t explain simple past occurrences like where she and Dain had met, and when Galdie asked about him, Rosemary often drew a blank.

It didn't take long for Galdie to connect the dots. Dain's fae magic had an amnesiac effect, causing Rosemary to forget things, especially anything he’d done to anger her. A twisted sense of relief washed over Galdie. If Rosemary couldn't remember, then she couldn't tap into her latent magical abilities. She would be safe, hidden even from herself.

But this relief was tinged with apprehension. Dain seemed to use the magic liberally, probably covering for his unreliable behavior. What kind of life was this for Rosemary? A life half-remembered, moments lost like raindrops? And what of Dain? Could he be trusted to keep Rosemary safe? She made a note to take him aside and give him a stern talking to.

Still, Galdie felt the weight of her past decisions bear down on her. She had bound Rosemary's magic to protect her, but in doing so, had she also bound her to a life devoid of the very thing that made her special?

The old binding was fraying at the edges, but for now, Rosemary’s forgetfulness seemed to be protecting it. Galdie’s best course of action was to merely keep an eye on her, for the time being.

***

The air in Thorn Manor was thick with anticipation, the walls themselves seeming to hold their breath as Rosemary labored.

Galdie had been thrilled when Rosemary expressed her desire to return to Thorn Manor for the birth of her child. It had been a long-standing tradition for Thorn women to bring new life into the world under the protective eaves of their ancestral home. A rather harried midwife had been brought along, her eyes widening at the sight of the ancient, sprawling manor, but she had quickly settled into her role.

Galdie held Rosemary’s hand, treating the pain with an ancient blend of herbs and towels soaked in hot water, just as her family had for generations. When the baby's first cry pierced the air, it was as if the world itself had shifted, a new star born into the night sky.

Galdie’s heart pounded in her chest as the midwife wrapped the baby and handed her back.

Rosemary cradled the tiny bundle in her arms, her face flushed but radiant. Dain stood beside her, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and something darker that Galdie couldn't quite place.

"Meet Athena," Rosemary whispered, her voice tinged with exhaustion and wonder.

Galdie’s eyes misted as she reached for her great granddaughter. As the baby’s green eyes locked onto hers, Galdie felt a jolt of energy pass through her. This child was powerful, her magical essence palpable, even at such a young age.

As she held Athena in her arms, Galdie knew that the birth had sent ripples through the magical world. She could feel it, a subtle shift in the energies around them, like the distant rumble of thunder signaling an approaching storm.

The Bloodstone Society would sense it too; of that, she had no doubt.

The binding spell Galdie had cast years ago would not be enough to protect them for much longer. She could feel it’s threads unravelling but the core of the spell was holding, for now. Galdie knew it had to be deepened soon, strengthened, even if it meant sacrificing a part of herself in the process. Not just yet though, the baby was too new. Galdie would have to wait a few days at least. Perhaps, the old binding would even stabilise in that time.

She looked across to Rosemary and then back to baby Athena.

"She's beautiful," Galdie said, her voice thick with emotion. "And she will be strong, just like her mother."

Rosemary smiled, oblivious to the weight of Galdie's words, her eyes filled with love as she looked down at Athena.

***

Galdie sat in her favourite armchair, sipping her morning tea and enjoying the quiet that enveloped Thorn Manor. The phone on the side table suddenly rang, shattering the peaceful moment. With a sigh, she set down her cup and picked up the receiver.

"Hello, Granny," came Rosemary's voice from the other end.

Galdie's lips curled into a smile, but her shoulders tightened involuntarily. Rosemary had gone back to her home in Stratham with Athena but had been calling almost daily. These frequent calls were becoming a source of worry rather than comfort.

"How are you, my dear?" Galdie asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"I'm fine, but strange things have been happening, Granny. Just yesterday, all the lights in the house flickered at the same time. And last week, I found flowers blooming out of season in the garden."

Galdie's heart sank. These were not mere coincidences; they were signs of Rosemary's burgeoning magical abilities pushing against the binding.

"And there's more," Rosemary continued. "I've been having these dreams, fragments really, of places and people I don't remember ever meeting."

Galdie sighed inwardly. The binding wasn’t stabilizing, it was weakening, and Rosemary's magic was fighting its way to the surface.

"How's Dain?" Galdie ventured to ask.

"He's... struggling. Lost another job. I don't know what's going on with him," Rosemary replied, her voice tinged with concern. “I’m sure I was angry at him just this morning, but I can’t remember why.”

Galdie sighed. That fae magic was indeed potent.

Ending the call on a reassuring note, Galdie headed straight for her tower room. She needed guidance, and her tarot cards had never failed her. As she shuffled and laid out the cards, her eyes widened at what she saw: a future where Rosemary and Athena would be powerful enough to defeat the Bloodstone Society. But they needed time, time that Galdie feared they didn't have.

She sat back, her mind racing. The only way to buy them that time was to strengthen the binding, even if that pushed them away from her. It was a desperate measure, one that would deepen the chasm between her and her loved ones. But as she looked at the cards again, the World card, the Ten of Cups, the Sun:the promise of a future where her family could live free from the looming threat, she knew she had no other choice.

With a heavy heart, Galdie began to prepare for the ritual. She would use Dain's amnesiac magic to create a new, more powerful binding. It would cost her dearly, but as she thought of Rosemary and Athena, of the life they deserved to live, she steeled herself for what had to be done.

She looked across to her cauldron. The ingredients for a powerful binding spell were there, laid out and waiting for her, as if they knew what had to be done.

As she began to prepare, Galdie felt the walls of Thorn Manor hum around her, as if offering support. She would need it, for the spell she was about to cast would be one of the most difficult she had ever attempted, not for its magical complexity at all, but for its emotional toll.

In the dimly lit room, Galdie stood amidst an array of ingredients. There were bundles of dried sage and lavender, their scents mingling to create an atmosphere of both calm and alertness. Jars of moonstone and obsidian stood next to vials of sacred oils, their fragrances rich and earthy. A bowl of salt from the Cornish sea was placed strategically at the edge of the circle, its grains shimmering in the candlelight.

As she began the incantation, Galdie felt the air grow thick with energy, almost as if the room itself were holding its breath. She reached for a sprig of sage, its scent aromatic and clarifying, and cast it into a cauldron. A plume of fragrant smoke rose, curling around her as she continued her chant.

Next, she took a drop of the sacred oil—a blend of myrrh, frankincense, and a touch of rose—and anointed her forehead. The oil was cool against her skin, and as it absorbed, she felt her senses heighten, her focus sharpening like a blade.

Her fingers then touched the moonstones, cool and smooth, their energy resonating with the ebb and flow of hidden tides.

She reached for the small carved wooden box and immediately felt a connection, a link to the ancestral pocket dimension where the binding would take root.

Finally, she took a pinch of the sea salt and scattered it around the circle. The salt crackled as it hit the ground, its energy forming a barrier, a final layer of protection as she prepared to complete the spell.

As she spoke the last words of the incantation, Galdie felt a rush of sensations overwhelm her. The room seemed to expand and contract, as if breathing with her. The scents of sage, lavender, and sacred oils intensified, filling her senses with a heady blend of earth and ether. Her skin tingled where she had applied the oil, and for a moment, she felt as if she were floating, suspended between worlds.

With a deep breath, she began to chant, her voice echoing through the chamber as she called upon the ancient powers that had protected her family for generations. The air thickened, the energies swirling around her as she poured her own essence into the spell, deepening the binding that would keep Athena and Rosemary safe.

This time, she drew on Dain’s power too, the powerful amnesiac magic of the fae, designed to keep their secrets safely hidden.

Rosemary would never know. Not until the time was right, when Athena was old enough that they could both come into their full power and restore the Thorn magic.

As the final words of the chant left her lips, Galdie felt a part of her soul tear away. She cried out in pain. But as she collapsed to the floor, her vision blurring, she knew she had succeeded. They would be safe, hidden from the prying eyes of the world, their magic bound until the time was right for it to be unleashed.