It had been a slow Tuesday night, with the wind whistling like a mad dog and the rain coming down hard. Without any customers, Jade had closed her family’s restaurant early. She was the only one who ran the place now, but she enjoyed the silence and hearing only the rain pitter-patter against the windows. The soft lighting from the restaurant offered her a relaxing glow in the only place she’d known to be her home.
But night was Jade’s favorite time of the day because it meant she could work on mastering her passion. She was really only concerned with magic and wanted to work on her potions. But running a restaurant paid the necessary bills to live and drove any suspicion away that she played with magic. She was already singled out by the town for being . . . “weird,” because she kept to herself and struggled with more pain than the average person her age.
But it wasn’t as if many people—if any—reached out to her to get to know her, either. Beyond her duties at the restaurant, people didn’t talk to her or show any interest; no one wanted to be friends with a loner. She was used to being alone. The townspeople may have believed she was strange for being a loner in her small town, but by working through her parents’ beloved restaurant and appearing human to everyone, all would only be well. She couldn’t give the townspeople any more reason to think she was different.
So, she had to be secretive.
Magic wasn’t accepted in her world. Magic made you a freak, an outcast. It was forbidden, a law signed by all the town elders. But for those who didn’t know how to cast spells or who didn’t naturally have a magic touch, they didn’t know how anxiety-inducing it was not to use magic, how Jade’s body itched with it constantly, how she developed a rash that reached all ends of her body when she spent far too much time away from her practice. It was unbearable. And she didn’t need that, not when her body already wasn’t doing well, with swollen joints and extreme fatigue and muscle aches that made it hard to walk despite her youthful age. It was what took the edge off her pain, where she felt in control.
But not everyone had been touched by magic, so they didn’t understand how the “itch” was far worse than any craving they knew. Back when her grandmother was alive, she was taught the basics of how to cast spells. But no one else in her family had the same “itch” to use magic like she or her grandmother did. Jade’s parents had her live as a human. Even though neither of her parents had magic (a skipped generation, her grandmother used to say), magic was in her veins, her blood, but she quickly learned to conceal her powers. She had to. It was safe. She had to blend in with everyone else.
It was only when she was alone that she experimented with her magical potion set. Being so close to magic made Jade’s arm hair stand on end, and the rest of her body resulted in goosebumps speckled all over. The feeling was electric.
And maybe it was so electric that she had failed to notice that someone had entered the restaurant, and she hadn’t actually locked the door, like she thought.
When she heard a man clear his throat, Jade’s heart leapt to her throat, her heart pounding fast. Her eyes glided up to the man who saddled himself on a barstool in front of her. He’d taken off his sopping red coat and laid it over the next empty barstool. He looked to be in his early thirties, like her, and he wore oval-shaped glasses and long corduroy pants that matched his plain, brown sweater. His tousled brown hair complemented his fierce blue eyes that stared deeply at her.
She froze. She’d been caught. With magic. It was a sin, a law broken. She could be hanged. But she had too much to achieve, too many people to help. So, why hadn’t she been more careful?
“I-it’s not what it looks like,” she tried to counter, but it was pretty obvious she had been playing with magic. “We—We were closed!”
The man leaned forward, gazing at the two beakers on the counter before him. One was already filled with a bluish green sort of liquid, created by plants she’d gathered and her spell casting. The other beaker reached midway with a gold, shimmery liquid, this one created solely from a spell she’d studied.
“So, what are you making?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows as if trying to decipher what was what. He asked the question like there wasn’t a care in the world, like he was actually interested.
But it wasn’t what Jade expected. She should have been called out! She broke a law! She was supposed to be a criminal, hanged at dawn! But . . . he didn’t seem to care?
When the man waited for her to respond, she cleared her throat. “Oh, I-I was making a joint pain reliever,” she admitted, slowly. His innocent stare led to Jade being honest. Still, she could feel her shoulders tense, and she couldn’t move.
“A pain reliever?”
“Yeah, I-I . . . make potions for people who live with chronic illnesses to help aid and ease their pain.”
“So . . . let me get this straight. You’re a bartender but create magic potions to help the chronically ill?” the man in front of her asked. He held his hand across his chin, and then his eyes were wide and bright. “That’s genius. Now that’s a way to handle magic!”
This man was unlike anyone she’d met in her hometown, Swanford. Everyone strayed from even talking about magic. If it was discussed even at all, you spoke in hushed tones and darted your eyes around, afraid someone might overhear. “It . . . is? Well, uh, it’s n-not a cure. It’s only to help people because a lot of illnesses don’t have a cure, and I-I don’t think I’m that powerful yet, or even if I’ll ever be able to . . .” She shook her head. She knew she was babbling. She cleared her throat and started again. “But anyway, aren’t you troubled by the fact that, well, I’m . . .”
“You’re . . . ?” the man inquired, his eyebrows arching.
Jade leaned in closer to the man and whispered, “I’m using magic when the law is not to use magic here?” It came out like a question, because how did this man not know?
“Ah, I see,” he said, with a nod, his lips drawn tightly at first, but then he smiled. “Not at all.” He cleared his throat. “In fact, I could feel your magic from out there in the cold! That’s why I came in to investigate!”
“You could feel my magic? Like, sense it?” Jade paused. “Who . . . who are you?” Only wizards and witches could sense magic, but even then, she wondered how powerful her magic was, if he could sense it from outside.
“Ah, I’m sorry, I completely forgot to introduce myself,” he said with a loud chuckle and slapped his hand against his forehead. He thrust out a hand to her. “I’m Link. I’m here to persuade you to work at Gold Brews.”
She didn’t know what to make of his announcement. “Uhh . . . excuse me? Gold Brews? What are you talking about?” Jade asked. Then she took his hand. As Link shook it, Jade quietly noticed that it was firm, like a true business handshake. “And, um, nice to meet you. I’m Jade.”
“Gold Brews is a small, medicinal spell shop in Asmor. I’m one of the owners, you see, and I’ve been on the hunt—”
“Asmor?” Jade cut in. “What? Where is that?” She couldn’t recall that being on any map she knew.
“Oh, I’m getting ahead of myself again. Asmor is a village in Ostrar.”
It was as if this guy was speaking a whole other language—either that, or he was pranking her. Jade admitted he had a good poker face, his expression unwavering the whole time. She scoffed and didn’t even know why she humored him. “Where, may I ask, is this so-called Ostrar?”
“Oh, I’m guessing you don’t hop through portals often?”
“No, what . . . portals??”
Link stared at her hard, like she was the most interesting person he’d ever met. “Witches and wizards can create portals to other realms. That’s how I arrived today,” he explained. Now Jade wanted to smack her forehead. That was why he didn’t seem to care about Swanford’s rules, why he was so interested in her potions. “For my job, I travel to different realms, seeking new talent from other witches and wizards and hopefully bringing them back to Asmor, where they sell their magical goods with our people. You see, Gold Brews, as I said, is a medicinal spell shop, meaning we try to help people holistically through our different types of magic.”
“So . . . you’re like a salesperson? What do you do at Gold Brews, besides travel across different realms?” Jade inquired. She couldn’t help that her curiosity was piqued; she had never met anyone quite like Link before.
He nodded. “Exactly like that. I deal with depression personally, so I craft baked goods spells, where each bite puts the customer in a new headspace. Here, I’ll demonstrate.” He leaned over the counter again and whispered a fast chant. A piece of banana bread—or what looked to be as such—appeared on the counter. “Take a bite.”
Jade tentatively reached for the slice of bread and broke off a piece, popping it into her mouth. Her cheeks instantly flushed with a feel-good type of warmth, her heart slowed, and she felt a smile appear.
Her mouth tingled with magic.
And the taste was amazing. It was soft and tasted sweet, but had a kick of spice. If comfort had a taste, this would be it.
“It’s so good!” she exclaimed, finishing off the piece of bread, savoring it.
He flashed her a charming smile. “Good, I’m glad. You see, this doesn’t cure people who come into Gold Brews, like your potions don’t, but that’s our goal. It’s supposed to be an aid to people who need help when they’re struggling. That’s all. Others who work there are in charge of different tasks, like shop decorations or drink specials, appetizers, etc. We use what we deal with to aid us in creating spells to help take the edge off for people. It’s a common belief that people struggle physically, emotionally, or mentally, and our little shop hopes to help. And I think you’d help to broaden our scope. Sorry, I’m rambling here. I love Gold Brews with everything I’ve got, and I just think you’d be the perfect addition.” He paused. “Do you think this would be something you’d be interested in?”
It sounded wonderful to Jade. Her heart quickened and fluttered with a newfound warmth as Link shared all the details. How could she never know this type of place existed? It would be a great chance to finally meet others like her without Swanford’s rules of no magic. It could be something she’d love more than anything, but . . . she looked around. This restaurant was where her parents had made a name for themselves in Swanford. It was where Jade had grown up; it’d become her home over the years. There was magic in the people they served, when customers smiled from their eyes, and in the dishes and drinks that they offered. It was a small, quiet life where she had found her footing.
But she also wasn’t accepted for who she truly was, not for being a half witch. No one in Swanford could ever know she was a magic user. No one could truly know her, and no one had ever made the effort, either. But could she give up the life her parents had paved for her to embark somewhere unknown . . . ? Plus, it had been her parents’ dream to open up a restaurant, so wouldn’t this be a betrayal of their wishes, after everything they had done for her? Her heart squeezed.
“Jade?” Link asked, which brought her back to the present.
“I-I don’t know if I can. This is my parents’ restaurant. I need to honor them by keeping tabs on this place, and people would know I’m gone and—”
Link cut in, “Well, we’d do an erasing spell, to make people forget about you and this place. But I didn’t realize you lived with family. Would . . . you need to say goodbye or talk this over with them?” It was an innocent question. Link didn’t know the truth. But still, it felt like a dagger to her heart, and Jade swallowed.
“. . . They’re dead,” Jade said quietly, flatly. She glanced down at the tile.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.” And then a moment later, she elaborated, “They died, protecting me. I was reckless, and it cost me. My parents were human, but they pretended to have magic, and my mom and my dad were ultimately hanged for their so-called crimes of pursuing witchcraft.” Her heart felt suddenly heavy.
She remembered that was when her true magic, herself, had died, and maybe she felt like she owed her parents by keeping this restaurant alive and running. “The truth is, for a long time, I didn’t want to keep doing magic, out of respect for them and because it was safe. It was all I knew and what I was taught. But they had always encouraged me to find my greatest joy to live life fully, and that’s . . . casting spells, helping people. So, when you came in tonight, I thought it was all over.”
When she looked up, she saw Link staring back at her, offering her a small smile, his eyes soft. “I’m sure that was really difficult.” He hesitated, his gaze wavering. “Well . . . I would love for you to work with me, but I understand if you can’t or don’t want to. I don’t want to strip you of your memory of them.”
He could come off as aloof and laidback, but right then, Jade could see this other side, his empathetic side, and maybe that was his magical side. Her eyes tore away from his once more, glancing all around the restaurant, focusing on the wall decor, the little, round wooden tables, the kitchen’s entrance. For a minute, it was like she could see her parents stopping by to greet each guest, making them feel at home.
But this place, this ghost town, was no longer her home. It used to be, but that all ended when her parents died. Their death had sucked out the emotion, the happy, out of her. And if she left, she could be set free, like a bird flying out of a cage, a cage of grief. It’d been five years, and she needed to move forward. For once. And find her own magic and desire for life, making it legendary however that looked, according to her.
So, she turned to Link and sucked in a breath. “Okay. I want to go—to Asmor. I think my parents would’ve wanted this for me, to spread my wings finally and fly. They always told me to hide my magic here in Swanford, for my own safety, but using magic is my passion. And I need to find where I belong,” she said with emphasis.
Link’s eyes lit up, and he smiled warmly. “I bet you’ll love Asmor!” Then he paused again. “Are you sure though?” Anyone could tell he brimmed with joy, but he tried his best to keep it at a minimum.
Jade inhaled again and nodded. “This is the push I needed to move on and live my life fully, doing what I love more than anything else.”
Link let out a breath and smiled, like he was thankful for that answer. “Good. Then, I’ll go ahead and cast a spell on the people of Swanford and the restaurant.” He muttered some words. Jade could feel her mouth itch and tingle again. She could taste the magic on her tongue.
Link turned to her. “Now, hold your hands, like this,” he instructed, motioning for her to pretend she held a space equivalent to a kid’s bouncy ball in front of her, “and close your eyes. I’ll cast the spell that’ll allow you to transport quickly to Asmor. It should also awaken any power that was lost in the past.” He chanted it, in that different, ancient language as before, and as he did, Jade’s eyes widened because a golden magic emanated between her hands. It was as if she were carrying herself, the innocent spark she’d lost so long ago.
She closed her eyes, feeling the new warmth of her magic course through her bones and her muscles and her blood, turning her alive.
Kelly Esparza (she/her) is a writer and freelance editor who holds a BA in English and a BA in Creative Writing from the University of Arizona. Her poetry, short fiction, and essays have appeared in various literary journals and anthologies. Her poetry chapbook, A Spoonie’s Guide to Self-Acceptance, was published by Bottlecap Press in 2025, and an excerpt from her latest adult speculative mystery novel was a semi-finalist for the 2026 Tucson Festival of Books Literary Awards for the fiction category. Additionally, she is also the editor-in-chief of FLARE Magazine, a literary journal that showcases writing and art about chronic illnesses, disabilities, and mental health. Find out more on her website: kellyesparza.com and connect with her on Twitter: @Kelly_Esparza7, Instagram/Threads: @kelwritesbooks2, and Bluesky: @kellyesparza.bsky.social.