by Lucia Ashta
The technique of imagining where I wanted to be had been enough to deliver Sibylle and me to the spirit world. Surely it’d be enough to return me to the physical world.
I pictured everything I remembered about my body laying on the grass in the midst of the huddled members of the Magical Arts Academy.
Only this time, nothing happened.
Chapter 8
I could tell I wasn’t where I wanted to be even before I opened my eyes. I just didn’t feel alive, and that was something you definitely felt.
Everything inside me sank. Oh no. No, no, no. This can’t be happening to me. Of course, it might be argued that it had already happened to me, given that I was, you know, dead.
But I’d truly believed I’d be able to return to life. Mordecai and Count Vabu hadn’t led me astray, and both of them were convinced I could manage it.
Oh, but Count Vabu is the one who pressured me into remembering my time in the sorceress Miranda’s dungeon so that he could find his sister Priscilla. He hadn’t meant to, but Count Vabu’s actions had led me to a confrontation with Miranda that I almost didn’t survive.
And Mordecai was the whole reason I was here, in the spirit world, instead of back in my body. He was the one to implore me to come here instead of focusing on getting back to my life, which should have been my one and only priority.
I was definitely regretting my choices now, when there was nothing I could do to change them.
Why hadn’t it worked? Visualizing where I’d wanted to be had worked to deliver Sibylle and me to the spirit world. Why hadn’t it taken me back to the academy? It should have, right?
I hadn’t let go of my lifeline. I clutched it with every bit of mental acuity I had. I should have been able to picture myself at my body and appear there, reattach my lifeline—however that worked—and spring to life.
I’d try again. Maybe I hadn’t focused well enough.
I remained within the world of my mind, doing my best to forget that I was actually a translucent specter floating along in the spirit world, surrounded by a bunch of ghosts, and visualized the garden in Acquaine, the one I liked so much.
At first I settled on the terrified look on my brother’s face, the one that was surely still in place, but that obviously wouldn’t work. So I moved on to the things that I loved, but didn’t remind me of my predicament. I remembered the sunshine on my face and the perfumes of the flowers in bloom. I pictured the entirety of the garden, even those areas I hadn’t had the chance to explore yet. It was so large, there was still so much more to discover.
Then I rounded on the mound where Wizard Meedles’ hellhound was buried, and with a crash, I came right back to the knowledge that I was dead.
I was all ready to sink into my defeat, but I pushed myself not to. This wouldn’t work unless I achieved it. There was no one that was going to deliver me to my body. I had to return to the garden all on my own.
I was back to the fountain that trickled so melodically.
“She doesn’t actually think she’s going anywhere, does she?” Lady Gosselin’s strident voice irked me sufficiently to snap me out of my concentration. “She does realize she’s still here, right?”
I ground my teeth, the ones I couldn’t actually feel, and definitely couldn’t actually grind.
“I’m sure she does,” Steven said soberly.
“Well then what is she doing?”
“Do you mind?” I gritted out.
“Mind what, dear?” the great Lady Gosselin asked, but she couldn’t be this dense, could she? Besides, she’d already proven that I wasn’t dear to her.
“Will you please be quiet so I can do this?”
“Oh, dear, you can’t do this obviously. You should have been able to do it by now. It doesn’t take long, you know.”
“I do know, thanks very much.” My sarcasm was dense, but I suspected she’d behave as though she were oblivious to it.
“You should just settle in here with us. It’s nice here.”
“I will not be settling in anywhere with you,” I bit out. I wasn’t very kind about it, and I really didn’t care. She had all the time in the world on her side. Couldn’t she just shut her trap for two minutes so I could get out of here?
“Uh!”
Apparently she’s incapable of being quiet. I didn’t need to open my eyes to realize she was livid.
“You—how rude! Can you believe her, Steven?” she raged, but didn’t wait for Steven to interject his answer. “Just because you’re dead, and remaining that way, doesn’t give you the license to speak to me that way. I am the great Lady Gosselin!”
“Yes, yes, I know.” I groaned inwardly.
“Good. You’d be wise to remember it.”
Actually, I’d be wise to forget it. She was the only thing standing in my way of returning to my body. All I needed was a bit more concentration.
I opened my mouth to speak, shut it, forced myself through the motions of some deep breaths, and tried again. “Will you please give me some silence here? I can’t focus with you talking. Please let me do this. I’m not fully dead”—and I was desperately hoping that still remained true—“allow me the chance to live until my time is truly up.”
Lady Gosselin huffed to make her displeasure with me known. But finally, she said, “All right. I’ll do what I can to help you return to life.”
Suddenly she was the magnanimous fairy godmother, when all I needed from her was to keep her colored lips pursed shut.
But if she’d be quiet, I’d take her silence however it came. “Thank you,” I said as if she truly were my benefactor. She wasn’t, but whatever.
Immediately I zoned back in to the space in my mind where I might imagine anything, anything at all, including me fully alive again. It took a few minutes, but I was finally able to forget about the great lady Gosselin, her surly husband, and the rest of the milling spirits, all undoubtedly watching me.
I sank back into the scents and sounds of the garden, where my body still lay. I’m going to do this. I absolutely am going to do this.
“Do you think she’s going to manage it this time? She’s taking quite a long time already.” Of course, it was Lady Gosselin’s voice. It was hushed, which was an improvement, but it wasn’t nearly enough.
I waited for a few moments, hoping she’d have the decency—and the sense—to actually keep quiet.
“She doesn’t look focused enough.”
“All right. That’s it.” I snapped my eyes open, losing all the work I’d done. “I can’t do this with you interrupting me every few minutes.”
“What? Me?” She placed a bejeweled hand against her chest. “What did I do?”
“You talked!” I growled, I legitimately growled. Obviously, that wasn’t the best way to secure the woman’s cooperation, but I was beyond caring. I was ready to... I didn’t even know what!
The lady’s expression went from surprised at my outburst (she genuinely seemed surprised that her whispers had bothered me) to insulted by my rudeness—again. She opened her mouth to speak, and I just couldn’t take it anymore.
I stilled her with a single look. I was certain by now that I must have looked deranged and possibly dangerous. “DO NOT SPEAK. PLEASE.”
She glared at me. I sighed. “Please. This is my chance to return to the world of the living. Don’t you want that for me?”
I don’t know what I was expecting. Whatever I was, I didn’t get it.
“I’ve done nothing but help you since you arrived. I—”
Mariana whisked between the two of us, with a hand outstretched to Lady Gosselin. “Please, allow me.”
I looked to the kind Mariana. Every single one of my hopes swam in my eyes. “Please help me,” I whispered. “I can’t do it like this.”
She smiled so beatifically that I believed her an angel for a few moments. “I’ll help you. Don’t worry, you can do this.”
“How can you help me?” I shot a concerned look at Lady Gosselin, then directed it at
her. Unless she had a spell that could shut the woman up, she wouldn’t be able to help me enough.
It was as if she read my mind. “Don’t worry. I can definitely help you, and I will.”
She took several steps toward me, until she would have blocked Lady Gosselin from sight if it weren’t for the fact that Mariana, even with her arms spread out to the sides, was a fraction of the big lady’s size.
Mariana’s lips started moving. I made out no more than mumbles, and wondered what it was with these magicians who guarded their secrets so closely, even into death.
But when the air, perfectly still and forgettable just moments before, starting whipping around us, I forgot about wanting to listen to her spell. Whatever she was brewing, she meant to help me in earnest, unlike Lady Gosselin.
I stared at Mariana until she closed her eyes to me and beamed a smile that made her relatively ordinary face radiate with beauty. “You didn’t manage to return to your world before because you were afraid you’d fail.”
“No I wasn’t,” I said right away. She smiled bigger.
“To return, you must fully believe that you can.”
“I did.”
Her smile didn’t waver.
“Expunge doubt. Cling to faith like the lifeline you hold.”
Wait, how’d she know about the lifeline?
“And believe. If you believe with the entirety of the force of your magic, you’ll achieve this. You’ll achieve anything.”
“But—” I started then stopped. Had I been afraid I’d fail? No. Wait, yes. I probably had been. After all, if I failed, I’d never live again, and I’d be stuck with the likes of Lady Gosselin. That was definitely reason to be afraid of failing.
“Beyond the world of buts and excuses, lives the entirety of possibilities. You can do this, Isadora. I believe in you.”
And with that, Mariana whipped the air into such a frenzy that I wouldn’t have been able to hear Lady Gosselin’s commentary unless she yelled it. The kind witch was giving me a buffer from distraction, but I was going to have to do the rest myself.
“Thank you,” I whispered to her, with the entirety of my heart.
Then I closed my eyes to her beautiful face, and to the rest of the spirit world.
If I was going to do this, which I absolutely was, then I’d better get to it.
Chapter 9
For a few panicked seconds, I worried that I wouldn’t be able to do it. All the ghosts, except for Mariana, were surely staring at me, and the force of the wind she was controlling was so strong that it was distracting. Sure, it had to be that strong to overpower the will of Lady Gosselin. I could feel it against my skin, lashing my hair against my face.
Then I remembered Mariana’s words, and her insistence that buts and excuses had no place in any magic, and certainly not in mine.
Whether I lived or died—with finality—was entirely up to me. And I wasn’t in the mood to let myself down. I wouldn’t be the one to crush my brother’s spirit. I’d return to a life shared with him. Maybe I’d even be able to share a little excitement with Walt, now that both of us realized that we were open to more between us.
All I had to do was return to my body, and life of infinite possibilities was mine.
I can do this. I have to do this.
I shoved fear out of my mind, and invited complete trust in its place. It felt forced, as if my fear of failure was still there no matter how much I tried to get rid of it. But I didn’t send my focus to it.
I was out of time, and the urgency to return to the garden only made things worse.
I breathed in and out to steady myself, not caring that my lungs were actually dead along with me, and reached for whatever calm I could find. It wasn’t much at first, but it would have to do, and I dove for it, scrambling to reach it and hold on.
There. I was calm, or at least I was prepared to believe myself such.
My eyes were squeezed shut, but the vision behind my eyelids was anything but plain. My trust and hope, and my love and magic swirled together in a mass of brilliant color. It was as if I held long ribbons and danced with them in the garden, only the ribbons were made of nothing but light, nothing but my imagination.
It was enough. It was the basis of all magic. Sure, all the magicians said that magic was based in the four elements. That the same elements that were the building blocks of all nature and life within it were also the essential part of all magic.
Perhaps that was true; it might even be likely given that they all said the same, and I was supposed to learn from them. But magic couldn’t exist without imagination, without the will and the spirit to bring something to life, something beyond the ordinary.
I had imagination in spades.
I smiled to myself and pictured the lifeline that I needed to merge my spirit with my body. It was right where it was supposed to be, clutched between the imaginary hands of my mind’s eye.
Next I pictured the garden where my body was. I imagined what everyone crowded around my body looked like.
A what-if popped up in my brain. Right away I knew it was a what-if of doubt. What if I failed? What if I really died? What if, what if, what if.
I wasn’t going there. Not today, not now, not ever if I could help it.
The only what-ifs I was going to entertain were: what if I managed it? What if I returned to life? What would it feel like to be alive again, and experience the sun on my flesh, the embraces of loved ones, the warm smiles of friends?
What if I were able to return to my body with a simple thought, one saturated with my love and belief? With my magic.
I’d entirely forgotten that I was in the spirit world and that there was an annoying woman there, as well as a kind witch who was helping me to prevail. I’d forgotten about the challenges and obstacles when I suddenly felt my body within my reach.
As if I were in a dream, where anything was truly possible, I reached out for my body. It was a soft, nearly lazy reach, as if I was no longer attached to the outcome of my actions, truly as if in a dream, where re-dos were offered everyday.
I caressed my body with the tendrils of my mind, but didn’t really think. I just... imagined. I pictured myself right next to my body.
Wait, why limit myself? Better yet, I pictured myself within my body, fully alive.
I held onto the tip of rope that represented my life force and extended my hand toward the image of my body.
In my mind’s eye, I touched my lifeline to my physical form.
I imagined myself fully alive, vibrant and well, capable of embracing all the gifts my life offered me.
I pictured myself wholly in my body and drew the deepest breath of my life—or death. Whatever it was, I was in a place where details didn’t matter, only feelings, impressions, and beliefs. The certainty that life was mine again, a goal that I’d attained.
The breath filled my lungs to bursting with rich, pure air, which nourished me inside and out.
I felt before I saw Nando’s body collapse on top of me. I experienced the weight of his upper body against mine. The sound of his sobs, the wetness of his tears against the fabric of my dress.
His breaths heaved as did mine. I pulled air in greedily.
Then I opened my eyes.
I blinked at the brightness of the sun as if I were a newborn babe.
In more ways than one, I supposed I was.
Life, returned to me, was all the sweeter. I was prepared to make the very most of it, and I fully believed I was capable of it.
World of magic, here I come. If I’d been an average witch in the making before, there was nothing ordinary about me now.
About Transformations
When magic is involved, the end isn’t always the end.
If Isadora has learned one thing at the academy, it’s that nothing is ever simple in the world of magic. Not even death.
She has a second chance. All she has to do is figure out how to come back to life. Piece of cake, right?
With unexpected
friends in the spirit world, she might just manage what no other magician has done before… and she might actually live to tell the tale.
If anyone can do it, Isadora can, because when it comes to magic, no one’s thought to tell her what she can—and cannot—do.
For my mother,
thank you for absolutely everything.
I wouldn’t be who I am today if not
for your unwavering love and encouragement.
The only truly impossible task is the one
you believe to be impossible.
Chapter 1
I’d realized that my permanent death would be devastating to my brother, Nando, but I hadn’t begun to approximate the true magnitude of his anguish.
He sprawled across my prone form while his sobs racked every part of my being. His heart squeezed with cries of relief, and his tears slid across the fabric of my dress until they dripped onto the grass of the Magical Arts Academy gardens.
I wanted to say something to comfort him, but I was as shocked by the situation as he was. After all, I was the one who’d suddenly discovered myself dead—and later learned there was a chance to reclaim my life. I was the one who’d had to navigate the spirit world and its peculiar, often irksome inhabitants.
After this, nothing would ever shock me again. Probably. Maybe. I was at the Acquaine estate, and almost anything could (and regularly did) happen here.
I waited for my brother to compose himself enough to speak, but Walt didn’t. “Isa,” he said, my name softer than I’d ever heard it from his lips. Then again, he’d never admitted to wanting to kiss me before. “You’re... back.”
I waited for more, but Walt seemed at a loss for words.
I sympathized. I didn’t know what to say about any of it either.
“I’m so... relieved.”
I offered him a timid smile over the brown head of my brother. He smiled back at me just as shyly.