Janie opens a cupboard, retrieving a handful of short pillar candles and arranging them on the windowsill. 'Inferno flamo,' she utters. The wicks spring to life, casting a flickering flame that dances playfully across the colourful stained-glass windows, painting kaleidoscopic patterns upon the walls.
Imogen accidentally bumps into a cabinet, inadvertently causing a jar of jam to plummet and shatter upon the stone slate floor. A gasp escapes my lips, punctuating the silence and capturing everyone's attention. My body quivers, remnants of the unease from the events at Neilson's party still lingering within me. I tremulously share my turmoil, 'Sorry, I'm still shaken from everything that's happened with Brad.'
Janie nods. Sympathy radiates from her. 'It's alright. We understand. I’ll make you one of Grammy’s famous calming teas.' she reassures me. With a flick of her wrist, she conjures Grammy's famous calming tea. 'Lifto Levitatious,' she utters, guiding the teapot to the sink and filling it with water. Teacups float gracefully out of the cabinet, obedient to her command, landing softly on the table. Janie's voice resonates with magic once more, 'Inferno Flamo,' and the fireplace erupts with a warm, dancing flame. The teapot hovers effortlessly over the fire, the water within it soon boiling. When the tea is ready, it hovers toward the waiting teacups, pouring the liquid into each vessel before settling on the table. Behind me, a chair nudges gently, beckoning me to sit. Succumbing to its silent invitation, I lower myself onto its cushioned surface, and just as I do, a cup of hot herbal tea on a saucer floats before me.
With a raised eyebrow and a subtle smile, I express my gratitude to Janie as I cradle the warm tea cup. 'Thank you,' I murmur appreciatively. Her response is a genuine smile, her eyes sparkling with delight.
As the fragrant tea cascades down my throat, a soothing calm envelops me, dissolving the remnants of unease that have been lingering within. I feel a weight lift from my shoulders, replaced by a renewed sense of tranquillity. Each sip brings me closer to serenity. I'm grateful Janie learned all of Grammy's cherished recipes. Her Grammy would be so proud of Janie.
Imogen then ventures toward a small cupboard, only to be greeted by a cloud of swirling dust that dances in the air. She coughs and tries to wave it away, but Janie swiftly intervenes, employing her spellcasting abilities to coerce the dust back into the cupboard, which she then closes. Her voice carries a hint of apology as she addresses Imogen, acknowledging the state of disarray. 'Sorry, Imogen,' Janie says apologetically. 'I know the place is a mess. Grammy told me she used to have a host of helpers, but I never met them. When she became bedridden, they must have stopped coming, and that's when the dust settled, cobwebs formed, and repairs were left undone.' She sighs, closing another cupboard door that hangs precariously on its hinges.
Xander interjects, uttering a single word, 'Twigglers.'
Confusion flickers across our faces. Janie interjects, her brows furrowing. ‘Huh?’ Janie and I say simultaneously.
‘The word does sound familiar, though,’ Janie adds.
Xander tilts his head, uncertain if we're serious or not. 'Your Grandma never showed you a Twiggler?' he questions, prompting us to shake our heads in negation. 'Well,' he continues, 'almost every household in Felderia has them. Your Grandma had them too. I know this because I saw all their ladders and other items they make and use to upkeep the house earlier. There will be a spell in her book to summon them. They're enchanted twigs that come to life like little creatures. They tend to the upkeep of your home, and in their spare time, they craft objects from sticks for their own use—chairs, ladders...'
'Swings,' I interject, recalling the peculiar structure I had noticed outside.
Recognition flickers in Janie's eyes. 'That's why it sounds familiar,' she chimes in. 'I've encountered the spell a couple of times in my book, but I never finished reading it.' A surge of excitement propels her toward her bag, from which she retrieves her spell book. Placing it gingerly on the table, she flips through the pages in search of the elusive incantation.
‘Here it is, Twigglers,’ she says, tapping the title on the page.
‘A Twiggler’s role is to mend and fix,
A master of crafts with skills that mix.
With a tap, tap, tap, it starts its chore,
Using its twiggy hands, it'll do much more.
If something breaks, it won't cause dismay,
For a Twiggler swiftly comes to save the day.
Whether a teacup shatters or a chair with a creak,
With patience and precision, a solution it'll seek.
These diligent beings, so attentive and wise,
With leaves for hair and keen sap-filled eyes,
They'll glue and scrub, sweep and mop,
Bringing tidiness and order without a single stop.
But Twiggler's purpose extends beyond repair,
In gardens and forests, they show their care.
They tend to flowers, with a gentle caress,
Nurturing their growth, ensuring success.
Magically formed from humble twigs,
Creatures of wonder, small as figs.
These little Twigglers, a magical band,
always lending a helping hand,’ Janie reads.
‘They sound cute,’ Imogen says, her eyes wondering as she imagines them.
‘And sound fun,’ I add. ‘How do you summon Twigglers?’ I ask Janie.
Janie looks back at the page in her spell book, her eyes scanning the instructions intently. 'It says here to gather as many twigs as possible. The more you have, the merrier they are. Once you have gathered your bundle of twigs, read the following chant below,' she explains, excitement lacing her voice.
Imogen's eyes widen with anticipation, her enthusiasm evident. 'Can we try the spell now?' she pleads. I really want to meet one of these Twigglers.'
Janie grins warmly at her friend. 'Of course! Let's find some twigs,' she agrees.
We venture outside, and I diligently collect all the twigs I had noticed earlier near the front entrance. Janie and Xander, utilising their magical abilities, make any nearby sticks hover from the ground, making it easier to locate and gather them. Imogen joins in, adding her collection to mine on the kitchen table.
Returning inside the house, Janie and Xander add theirs to the pile. Janie then positions herself before the pile of twigs, her spell book in hand. 'Awake, oh Twigglers, with purpose true, help upkeep the house, chores you'll pursue!' she proclaims, her voice resonating with power.