Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shelby Eternity Marsh, now exiting her third year at the National Academy for Witches and Magical Studies, liked to cut corners. This was not her only trait, nor her only negative habit; for example, she made a practice of writing home to her grandmother every five days, she was very determined (or stubborn) when she needed to be, and she could spin a lie in the time it took a pin to drop from her hand. Not a good lie, necessarily, but a serviceable lie.

Shelby, who would be going by the Lesser Witch Eternity until they graduated, was walking along the road that led back to town, carrying the bulk of their luggage. A couple more delicate carry-ons floated behind them like balloons, wrapped in glowing thread that connected to the tip of their school-issued wand. Shelby was on their way to the train station, specifically, and though they were dreading reaching their destination, they also despised the journey.

Earlier that day, Shelby had called in sick to one of her classes, claiming she couldn’t attend to turn in an assignment, which was definitely done (it was very much not), but would do so at the next opportunity. She was planning to finish it over the Christmas break and give it to the teacher right after, so the only thing Shelby had to do was avoid them.

This was easier said than done.

When the Academy closed down for holiday, students and teachers (if they weren’t tasked with locking up and setting up the cleansing fires) alike would take enchanted trams down the mountainside to reach the town below, where they would disperse to their various trains and homes after waiting for however long. Unless they had their brooms already, in which case the witch in question could fly as far as they wanted instead.

Therefore, Shelby had to avoid her teacher at three points: the tram ride, the train station, and possibly the train itself. She had already gotten out of the tram ride by jumping off the edge of the road when nobody was looking and successfully canceling the fall momentum. All she needed to do now was make it to the train station before the trams did.

However, walking the ten kilometers it took to get down to town while carrying all of their things and keeping concentration on the float spell was strenuous enough on its own. Maintaining a walking speed fast enough to outpace a small fleet of trams at the same time might’ve been impossible, at least for them.

Shelby wasn’t sure how much the head start factored into the equation; she didn’t have the time to do that math. Nonetheless, as time wore on second by second and the muscles in her back wore down, Shelby found the space to get paranoid.

Was that sound the chatter of students, growing closer every second? No. It was the leaves rustling in the wind.

Was that flash of teal on the hill behind them the front of the tram, about to crest? Also no. It was a bird.

Still, as she trudged down the dirt road, Shelby realized something, the knowledge crashing down on her, almost a physical wave of dread. The witch full-body shuddered, and the thread of magic spooling around her things flickered like a dying light.

There was no way they were going to make it.

It took the trams about half an hour, give or take, to get to town. By jumping off the mountain, Shelby had cut her journey in half, yes, but she was not the kind of person who could walk five kilometers while carrying nearly everything she had brought to college.

Even worse, when the trams did inevitably catch up with them, Shelby would be totally exposed. The road leading up to the National Academy was pretty much flat stone, so there would be nowhere to hide. Their teacher was bound to notice them.

Panicking, the witch wracked her brain for a solution. And, unfortunately, she found one.

Shelby stopped abruptly and tugged their floating luggage towards themself with the tip of their wand, pulling the glowing thread taut. Then, they grabbed a bag out of the air and rifled through it. They emerged victorious, with a small device full of chalk dust, and dropped to the ground, muttering under their breath as they began to make a circle.

The calculations required to complete a teleportation circle were complex, and you actually needed to cast an entirely separate spell to gauge the ambient magic level of the starting area. Conveniently, however, Shelby managed to remember that the average magic across the globe was around 0.80 ug/s, and the magic at the train station was about 3.00 ug/s due to all the spells being used to start the engines. So, then, the difference would be…3.02?

Shelby scribbled the figure down and moved on to the rest of the circle, doing her best to keep all the lines straight even while time ticked by, drawing her public humiliation closer and closer. A lot of her calculations were off, but that was fine, that was fine. She didn’t need to be in any specific area, just closer than she was now.

Finally, Shelby stood up, hands coated with chalk from where they had to wipe away errors and replace them. They didn’t bother checking for more mistakes, not when they could hear the sound of chattering students from around the bend in the road. Instead, Shelby stepped inside the designated empty area and, with a huff of exertion, levitated the rest of their luggage into the air. Quickly, they poured energy into the circle, doing their best to split their attention.

Beneath her, the chalk markings glowed, at first unevenly and then in solid, pulsing, waves. Shelby's wand grew warm in her hands, and she squeezed her eyes shut, imagining the way the bare branches of the trees outside the train station pierced into the sky.

Reality blinked in and out from under her, and Shelby felt wind sweep over their whole body, a swooping sensation in their stomach. Her ears popped. Something went weird in her sinuses.

And then, it was over.

Chapter Text

Katherine-Elizabeth de Glimmergrove had been given a great duty to perform this year, and she was determined to do it right. No one’s life was at stake, yes, but she had always liked having a task to dedicate herself to anyway. It was a symbolic duty, a quest to bring joy to the hearts and minds of her neighbors.

Every morning, she would wake up before dawn, head into the Silver Forest with her script in hand, and practice her lines. Katherine was the most important part of the play, as the protagonist and the prop manager, and she had to be perfect if she wanted the celebration to go right. That particular morning, the woman was going over the final parts of the story, where the knight confronted the Anointed Dragon.

“Foul beast,” Katherine announced, staring out at where the audience would sit, “stay your ravenous mouth from these lands. We are a peaceful people, and we have done no harm to you.” She paused for a few beats, trying to recall exactly when her next cue line would come. “If you do not, I will be forced to cut you down.”

Or was it ‘cut you from the sky’? The woman wracked her memory for a few moments, but couldn’t find an ending that she was confident in. Defeated, she knelt down to pick up her script, buttons on her costume cloak poking into her upper thigh as she lowered her body to the ground.

However, the wind beat her to the punch. A particularly strong gust cut through the clearing, which had been made into a temporary wind tunnel by the thickly packed trees on either side of her. The air blew open her cloak, exposing Katherine’s otherwise poorly shielded skin to the cold and making the fabric open up behind her like a tiny parachute, fastened only around her neck and waist. Katherine wrapped her arms around herself, shivering, and watched in annoyance as the little book fluttered through the air.

It landed a ways away from the clearing, having fallen where the natural tree barrier opened up to allow access to the outside theater, maybe a few steps into the shadows of the criss-cross branches. Katherine jogged over to retrieve it, perhaps not as wary of the frozen puddles as she could’ve been.

Then, a few things happened in very quick succession.

One: Katherine arrived at her script, rebuttoned her cloak, and bent with both knees, reaching for the book where it sat on a pile of dead golden leaves. Unbeknownst to her, one of her feet was on a patch of ice, also covered in leaves, and the other on solid dirt.

Two: Shelby Eternity Marsh, and around 2 cubic meters of suitcases, bags, and other things that you store objects inside, materialized in midair with a quiet pop, and began to fall. The high ug/s count of the region didn’t mean anything if no one was using it.

Three: Collison.

Katherine yelped as something heavy crashed into her back, and the foot planted on the ice slipped backwards, sending her into an involuntary lunge. She pushed down with the foot on solid ground, twisting onto her side to try and displace the sudden weight. Her hair flew across her face, obscuring her vision as Katherine hit the cold ground, sending a shock of pain through her right arm. Around her, seemingly random objects thumped, clattered, and floated down to the earth. A wand bounced off the tip of her nose as Katherine lay in a heap, breathing hard.

When a few seconds had passed since the last impact, Katherine risked sitting up. Nothing bonked her on the head for daring to attempt such a brave feat, and she took that as a sign that it was safe to stand up.

The first thing she did was retrieve her script, A Christmas Tale, which was stained with dirt in one corner but otherwise none the worse for wear. Katherine breathed a sigh of relief, even though she had the lines mostly memorized. She brushed away the grit, feeling the cold paper cover beneath her fingers. It was grounding.

The wind began to blow again, softer this time, spreading cold over Katherine’s nose and ruffling her hair. Her arm twinged, and she let it fall to her side, tucking the script into her pocket and rearranging her cloak with the other hand.

Having collected herself, Katherine turned back towards the stage, only for her foot to bump into something. She looked down, confused, and mentally corrected herself. It was someone.

A person, wearing a pointy hat and a black dress over a white button up, curled into a ball.

“Hello?” Katherine asked.

The person didn’t respond, and for a moment, Katherine thought that they were dead. She’d heard a few stories about that kind of thing, someone trying to teleport through the barrier without the proper credentials and ending up with all the life sapped out of them. Nervously, Katherine nudged them with her foot again, aware that she could have a corpse on her hands.

“Hello?” She repeated. For a moment, they were still, unresponsive, and the blood drained from Katherine’s face. But then, as if in response, the person at Katherine’s feet rolled over, so that they were partially propped up against her leg. At this angle, she could see their chest, rising and falling underneath the dress. The stranger was alive. Asleep, but alive.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she reached down and grabbed one of their exposed arms, trying to shake them awake, and then stopped. The skin was freezing, even for the Shining Lands at this time of year. Katherine drew her hand back in surprise, hesitating. Then, she slid her arms underneath the sleeping stranger. She needed to get them somewhere warm.

With a grunt of exertion, Katherine lifted them off the ground, and then dropped the stranger back down within seconds. Her right shoulder had felt like it was being pulled off her body. Even unburdened, the limb now ached quietly in its socket. Katherine cursed under her breath. If one of her arms couldn’t bear any weight, there was no way she could carry someone. On the other hand, she couldn’t just leave this person unconscious in the woods while she ran all the way back to town to get help.

Katherine stood up, thinking. There were a couple fire charms out by the theater, and while they were technically meant for use during the plays and rehearsals, she had a good reason to break that rule slumbering on the ground in front of her.

That thought in mind, Katherine turned away from the stranger, muttering an apology under her breath. She’d be back soon.

Chapter Text

The first thing Shelby heard was the sound of crackling fire.

It’s been the nighttime background ambience at her dorm in the university for long enough that she doesn’t really question its source. So, Shelby turned over, nuzzling her face into her pillow, which was really rough for some reason. She’s so tired, despite the fact that she’d probably been unconscious for a good few hours. Worst of all, she just couldn’t seem to get comfortable. It’s like she’d accidentally transformed her bed into a rock again. Shelby twisted, kicking one leg out in an attempt to locate her blanket.

Except, the university was closed. Shelby couldn’t be in their dorm. In fact, they’re supposed to be at the train station.

Shelby’s eyes flew open and she pushed off what she soon discovered was the ground, sitting up only to see the cold, pale, blue of a cloudless sky, framed in the shining branches of silver trees. She whipped her head around, taking in the green fire that sprouted from a little pearl on the ground, and the teal glow that bathed her body, her luggage, and the stranger sitting next to her.

Upon seeing her move, they smiled, moving to mirror her position. “Hey, you,” they said softly, “you’re finally awake. I thought you were comatose for a second there.”

They fought the urge to scream, instead sitting there as calmly as their body could manage. A great witch always thinks before they act, and Shelby was…aspiring to Greater Witchdom, so that’s exactly what they’ll do.

In the meantime, Shelby managed to croak out a greeting.

Clearly, she did not teleport herself to the train station.

Instead, they seem to have botched the spell circle, much more than Shelby had expected. If they look at the ground around beyond the fire, they could see ditches full of ice underneath the leaves. The temperature around the Academy never dropped below freezing. Moreover, Shelby had never seen silver trees in their entire life. As for the person sitting across from them, their ears were pointed, on closer observation.

An elf. There’s a fucking elf.

Shelby’s gone and thrown herself into the Shining Lands.

“Where are we?” they asked, just to confirm their suspicions.

“Silvertown,” the elf replied quickly, “in the Land of Virtue.”

Shelby threw her head into her hands, muffling her cry of despair. She had to have broken at least 30 different laws.

Katherine watched Shelby, the witch-in-training, apparently, walk down the road into town like a trap would spring if they stepped on the wrong rock. Their things floated behind them like ribbons on a kite, wrapped in luminescent green string.

“You won’t be in trouble, you know,” she tried to reassure her. “Witches teleport here by accident, sometimes. You do your–um, calculus wrong–”

“It’s not calculus,” they muttered, “it’s physics, mostly.”

“You do your physics wrong,” Katherine amended, “and you end up here! They can’t arrest you for it if there’s no intent. It’s just, usually, people die.”

“Ah.”

“So,” Katherine said, “you’re actually very lucky. Like, incredibly lucky.”

Shelby didn’t seem to take this information as the miracle that it was. Her eyes teared up, and she started to make those sniffing sounds that often precipitated a loud cry. Fortunately for Katherine, they turned the corner together right at that moment, and came upon the liaison office.

Katherine stepped away from them and gestured to the front door. “Hey! Look, we’re here,” she exclaimed. Spinning on her heel, she twisted the doorknob, ready to send this distressed individual on their way home and consider it a job well done.

The door did not open.

Confused, Katherine tried again, harder this time. She angled herself to the right, anchoring herself with her left hand as she looked in the window. “Closed in commemoration of Christmas,” she read aloud. “May the brave souls who died in this building rest easy. Reopens Monday.”

She turned back to Shelby, wincing. “Sorry, I guess you’re out of luck. Do you know anyone you can stay with until Christmas Week ends?”

“No,” Shelby whimpered.

Katherine stared at her, dejected and shaking in the cold, then at the collection of luggage floating around her.

Altruism twinged in her chest. “You want to come stay at my place?” she asked. “It’s small, but, you know.”

Shelby set the last of their things into the corner of Katherine’s home, trying to make enough conversation to stave off the awkwardness inherent to living with someone you met in the woods not an hour ago. “So, you guys do Christmas out here? I didn’t think the practice would spread outside my country.”

Katherine, who was digging through a chest on the opposite wall, emerged at last with a large bundle of blankets. “What?”

“Christmas,” Shelby repeated. “The anniversary of the Great Witch Chriselda’s invention of the mass generation spell?”

“I’ve heard of mass generation, but I don’t think a lot of people here celebrate Christmas.” Katherine paused. “Or, that Christmas, at least.”

“Is there a different one?”

“Yes,” Katherine punctuated this simple statement by tossing the pile of fabric onto the floor, “like, 200 or so years ago, before our witches engineered large scale heating systems, there was this one dragon we kept to make fire for us. Really old one, too. Enormous, apparently.” She knelt down and started unrolling the blankets with her left hand, still talking. “One year, we have a really warm winter, and we don’t need the dragon as much, so we don’t give it as much gold. Dragon starts setting stuff on fire.”

Shelby stepped closer, snorting.

“I know, right?” Katherine said. “Anyway, around 700 people died that winter, and the dragon would’ve done more damage if a knight hadn’t driven it off into the wilderness. Now, we close everything down for the week that the dragon was active and have a bunch of plays and such to commemorate it. I’m in one, actually. I think they always moralize the dragon too much, since it was really just an animal that didn’t get its treats on time and whatnot, but I can understand why people want it to be more of a person. Easier to hate that way.”

“Interesting,” Shelby responded. “Is there anything I can do to help? With your play, I mean. To make up for all that.” They flicked a hand in the direction of their luggage.

“I’m telling you,” Katherine sighed, “it’s okay. I’m not going to leave you stranded out here. You can sleep in these blankets, they’ll keep you warm. And, I promise I’ll tell you if anything comes up with my play, okay?”

“Okay.”

Over the course of the week, Katherine’s newfound roommate did indeed find several opportunities to help her. Healing her arm, helping to fix props, and even making a few with her own magic. She could hardly believe she had ever lived without them, without their companionship.

Katherine was almost sad to see her go. But they had their own lives to get back to. On the night of her play, Katherine stepped onstage one final time and turned out towards the audience to a cacophony of applause. She took the hands of her fellow actors and bowed, smiling into the darkness.

She didn't expect to see anyone she recognized; her parents never supported her acting career, and the majority of her friends were in the spotlight beside her.

And yet, there, all the way in the back, was Shelby.

Shelby greeted Katherine with a wave of their wand as she slid out of the crowd, conjuring a bouquet of spectral flowers that floated down into her hands. She transferred them to the crook of one arm and hugged them with the other.

"I thought you'd be gone by now," Katherine exclaimed.

"And miss this?" Shelby responded. "I wouldn't. You're amazing, Katherine. I mean it. I could barely look away from you."

"Aww," Katherine took her hand, "I can't believe I might never see you again."

Shelby lifted their free hand to cup Katherine's face. "Did you want something to remember me by, then?"

Katherine nodded.

Quick as a lightning, Shelby leaned in to press their lips together, and then retreated, running back up towards the town. "I do really need to go now!" She shouted, "I'll find you, I promise."

Clutching the flowers to her chest, Katherine watched her grow smaller and smaller in her field of vision, until finally, she was gone.

"I'll hold you to that," she whispered.