Serendipity: Imbolc & Incantations

  The Serendipity Series

  Serendipity is a serial featuring the bumbling witch, Seren Starlight. Each book is a complete story filled with humour and misadventure, but there is an underlying thread of mystery and romance that runs throughout.

  Since there is a slight Welsh theme, the books are written in British English.

  The stories each revolve around one of the sabbats of the Wheel of the Year.

  Samhain & Sorcery (October)

  Yule and Enchantments (December)

  Imbolc & Incantations (February)

  Ostara & Omens (March)

  Beltane & Bewitchery (May)

  Lithia & Lore (June)

  Lammas & Illusions (August)

  Mabon & Magic (September)

  Seren Starlight isn’t your average witch. At 26 she’s yet to graduate from the esteemed senior academy of witchcraft because she refuses to obey the rules.

  A magnet for misadventure, things always go wrong around her. She doesn’t realise the consequences of talking back to the principal sorcerer until she receives a rather stinging lesson.

  Destiny takes Seren on a series of Yuletide exploits during the Winter Solstice and she stumbles through them thanks to a string of happy accidents.

  Seren by name. Dippy in nature. Serendipity through fate.

  ***

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  Serendipity

  Imbolc & Incantations

  By

  Poppy Flynn

  Chapter One

  There was something sinister stirring in the ether. A malevolent foreboding which quietly roused the shrouded mantle of the black arts and then filled every empty crevice with malignant intent.

  Seren Starlight finished tying off the reeds for the Brigid’s Cross she was making to mark the celebration of Imbolc - the third observation in the wheel of the year which began with Samhain, or Halloween as mortals called it. And this last Samhain had marked the beginning of a year unlike any other. Everything around her was just a little weird and freakish - and that was saying something for a witch! - but it was one of the reasons Seren was determined to follow the traditions and rituals, the lore of Imbolc, to a tee.

  Everything was going to be perfect and there would be none of the mishaps and misadventures which had afflicted the last two Sabbats. She hoped. Did crossing her fingers for luck count as a charm, she wondered absently, screwing her nose up at the chunky, rather ugly mess she was calling a Brigid’s cross. Okay, she admitted it. Arts and crafts weren’t exactly her strong suit, so maybe ‘perfect’ was a bit strong. But it was the thought that counted, right?

  Anyway, Imbolc - the observance of emerging life and the awakening of the natural world - was far too important to mess with. The birth of Spring; the first sprouting of leaves on the trees, the first blossoms poking their heads through the snow and the glorious return of the sun. The successful passing of winter and the transition of the goddess from crone to maiden.

  In short - The return of life.

  No, Seren certainly wasn’t prepared to leave anything to chance this year. Not with the way both Samhain and Yule had gone. There was an ominous portent blowing in on the breeze and that wasn’t just irrational paranoia… others might think she was being overly cautious, but she wasn’t willing to consign anything to the vagaries of luck.

  Carrot, her fox familiar, might like to sing the praises of serendipity and say it was her gift, and maybe in the wider circumstances surrounding her, he was right. But when it came to personal stuff, luck was something that was in pitifully short supply, as far as Seren, herself, was concerned.

  After all, just look at the heartache the last two sabbats had brought. First there had been Maddox and Morgan at Samhain - although admittedly, in retrospect, she had liked the idea of them more than she was heartbroken at not keeping them.

  For a while she had thought they might be her destiny, but when everything had been shaken up - literally - during Yule, Seren had realised that the Dewin twins had just been the epitome of everything she secretly yearned for. It wasn’t them she wanted, just what they had represented.

  And yes, she’d been down for a while after their short, stolen interlude, but Siarl had stepped into the breach and she had quickly realised that whatever she had felt for the brothers had paled in comparison to the firm, authoritative presence of Principal Orias.

  And therein lay the problem.

  He was the chief warlock of the Ysgol Ddewiniaeth Academy, where Seren was a student. True, she was no ordinary student, since she was fast approaching her twenty-seventh birthday, and well past the age of consent. But Siarl was an old soul and believed completely in the propriety of protocol and convention. Whereas Seren was more likely to be caught breaking the rules. Yeah, there really wasn’t any future for the two of them. At least not while she was a student here, and maybe not at all.

  She had suspected as much, but Yule had been traumatic and wrought with dangers, and Siarl had let himself slip - slightly. She guessed life and death situations could do that to the best of people.

  But he’d been quick to set her straight.

  Seren walked over to one of the tall, mullioned windows of the turret where she lived, year-round, and looked at the snow. She wondered, briefly, if it still contained the magical fallout from the critters they had liberated at Yule and her heart ached a little - okay, a lot - when she thought back to how she and Siarl had stood there, hand in hand, watching as it sprinkled all around them. Everything had seemed so perfect and positive back then. The citadel was saved, catastrophe had been averted, and Seren had decided she was in love.

  And then everything had returned to normal and the heartbreak, something which seemed to be a familiar and constant part of her life, ever since the disappearance of her parents when she was ten years old, returned with a vengeance. But with a little extra added just to make sure she knew about it and couldn’t escape it.

  Instead of the pristine snow sparkling in the weak sunlight, Seren saw a different scene in her minds eye. The one which had almost broken her for real. Truth be known, she was still feeling a little fragile.

  She remembered waiting excitedly to see Siarl. She understood it was of the utmost importance for him to meet personally with the elders of the Mage Council, following the unprecedented assault by dark forces against an institution which was supposed to be invulnerable and a place which was his complete responsibility. She still missed him while he was gone, though, and knew that the severity of the attack and the implications it threw up meant his trip would not be a quick one.

  She’d even only been slightly put out when he had declined her offer to accompany him and give her own input. She knew her reputation preceded her, no matter how undeserved. Still, she didn’t want any investigation to be routed off course by someone inevitably trying to lay the blame at her own feet, instead of trying to find the real culprits.

  What she hadn’t imagined were the icy walls that she’d encountered upon his return.

  Seren had sensed the change in his demeanour as soon as she’d seen him. She’d taken a couple of excited skips towards him, then drew to a faltering stop as she felt the waves of rebuffal positively radiating off of him. He was back to that staid and formal aloofness that had always characterised him in the past. Old before his years. Although maybe that was unfair. He was an old soul after all, having lived many lives, whereas Seren was on her first. He might present like he was only in his thirties - despite the prematurely silver hair - but in fact he was eons old. Just another part of the reality that was stacked against them.

  The ‘talk
’ that had come after hadn’t been completely unexpected. Seren had steeled herself against the rejection with a facial paralysis serum she had perfected years ago. After the very first time, the stuffy academics had refused to let her graduate; all because of her insistence that black magic should be studied so that it might be understood and conquered effectively. She probably used it far more than she should. A sad testament to her life that she kept a vial on hand at all times. She’d made them both some calming chamomile and mint tea and surreptitiously added the serum to her own. Sipping it quickly and feeling bolstered by its ability to freeze her facial expression into one of polite indifference. Ha! Who needed Botox injections when she could imbibe the same results? Maybe she was in the wrong business.

  Nevertheless, she had needed the serum more than ever that day.

  Seren had listened politely, asking a question here and there as Siarl described his meeting with the Mage Council. Then he looked at her and dropped the bombshell. Even though she’d been waiting for it, it still felt like her heart was being physically ripped out of her body. Her face might be paralysed, but she’d yet to find a remedy to stop her from feeling. Maybe that should be next on her agenda. She could make a fortune.

  “This thing between us,” Siarl had started awkwardly, spreading his fingers like he didn’t know what to call it. “It... well,” he sighed and took a deep breath, and Seren supposed she should take a tiny smidgeon of comfort from the fact that the words didn’t appear to come any easier to him, either.

  “It can’t go any further,” he finally finished, oh so quietly. He was looking away from her, his hands jammed into his pockets. Maybe he didn’t want to see the look on her face any more than she wanted to show it. Maybe he wanted to ensure his hands didn’t reach for her. That was something, she supposed. Or maybe she was just projecting.

  “I’ve already overstepped. I’m the principal of the Academy and you are a student here.”

  Seren had clenched her jaw as her face flamed. He’d only kissed her for coven’s sake. It wasn’t exactly a burning offence. And she wasn’t a run-of-the-mill student. The only reason she remained was because the board refused to exclude her - it would look bad. And she, for her own part, refused to leave. First, because she had nowhere to go and without graduating, she would be hard pushed to find any kind of future. Yes, believe it or not, even witches had to worry about that kind of thing. And second, because she was down-right ornery. There was absolutely no reason why she shouldn’t have graduated already. So, in her own perverse little way, she was actively calling their bluff.

  And besides all that, she had nowhere to go. Nowhere to live. Did she say that already? Well, it was valid enough to be counted twice.

  The academy had been her home for almost seventeen years now. Ever since her parents had been listed as ‘presumed dead’ and there had been nowhere else for her to go. These walls might not be the most welcoming, but they were all she knew.

  Chapter Two

  Principal Siarl Orias sat back in his antique leather chair and tapped his fingers on the leather insert that topped his twin pedestal desk in a wholly uncharacteristic kind of introspection. Oh, it was unlikely that anyone watching him would see any difference in his demeanour, but his thoughts were very much less than gracious and held an unprecedented level of bitterness and self-pity. And that was completely unlike him.

  He’d been feeling unsettled like this since Yule, and he blamed Seren Starlight for that. Not that it was completely her fault, and it was unfair to even suggest it. But fair or not, all his current afflictions had begun with her, and his established, neatly ordered life had been derailed.

  Whether she was aware of it or not, the process whereby they’d exchanged the ink of their familiars, as necessary as it had been, had left an invisible, indelible mark which made him aware of her on a very personal level. Not that he hadn’t been aware of her already. His feelings towards her ensured that. But this was something he couldn’t escape, no matter how much he tried. It made no difference that they’d swapped their familiars back after Yule, there was a residue that remained, even now. Something that made him sense even the most subtle of nuances in her deepest feelings. Even the ones she kept hidden.

  He still didn’t know what kind of magic she’d used to mask her expressions when he’d told her he’d overstepped the boundary of propriety in their relationship just before Christmas, but he’d felt her pain slice into him like it had been his own. And maybe it had been… and hers had just compounded it.

  He felt it still over a month later. Just like he felt her despair and her defeat, which were perhaps even worse. It was like he’d sucked all the life out of her, and that was something he couldn’t forgive himself for. Not when she had always been so unashamedly spirited; so full of joie de vivre. And now she existed like an empty shell of her former self, and it was all his fault. How was he supposed to live with that?

  But rules were rules, and some things in life, no matter how painful, had to be endured, even if it was the last thing on earth you really wanted.

  Responsibility came at a price.

  Siarl sighed and made a vague attempt at pulling himself out of his melancholy. Maybe one day he’d get the chance to make it up to her. But right now, he needed to keep his distance. He had a very nasty feeling that both of their lives might depend on it, as well as the future of the entire magic realm.

  Or maybe he was jumping at shadows and imagining conspiracies where none really existed. Only time would tell. And until then he was determined to keep her safe, because however deep her disappointment and sorrow, it was a better alternative than the unthinkable. And that was certain death.

  If he was lucky, then it might turn out that he was being overly dramatic. Not a disposition he was prone to. But he’d take that if it meant Seren was safe.

  The meeting with the Mage Council and his subsequent discussion with the Ysgol Ddewiniaeth Academy board had raised even more concerns. Ones that he had chosen not to share with Seren.

  Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself, staring blindly out of his office window as he pondered particular pieces of the two meetings.

  “Principal Orias, in your esteemed opinion, did Seren Starlight have anything to do with this attack on the citadel?”

  “What?!” Siarl was powerless to cover his shock at the question thrown at him by the speaker of the Mage Council. For a moment he couldn’t even answer.

  Then he pulled himself together, sat up straighter in his chair, pinned the man with an intense stare and took his time considering every nuance of the wizard until he squirmed in his pretentious chair.

  “Absolutely not!” he finally replied, making a point of staring down every member of the Senedd.

  He might sit here in front of them like he was a subordinate, but that was just the way the chamber was set up and very far from reality. One didn’t get to be the principal of the magic realm’s most esteemed witchcraft academy without reaching the pinnacle of seniority. Siarl was equal to every elder in this room and superior to all but a handful. He had simply chosen to oversee the shaping of precious young minds in their journey through witchcraft rather than sitting on the Mage Council like some ageing barnacle that was starting to stagnate. The enquiring minds of the youth kept him fresh and progressive and ensured that he didn’t live his life resting on his laurels. Maybe he was being unfair, but one or two of these sages could do with pepping up a bit. From where he was sitting, they were certainly guilty of a great deal of complacency, and that was dangerous. Perhaps this was where the rot had started to set in. Not in misdeeds, but in the careless laxness of smug superiority where one stopped seeing danger because they believed they were invincible. It was a chilling thought.

  “Can you really be that certain?” the statuesque sorceress, Madame Ebony, asked.

  Siarl gave her his full attention. There had been a time when they had tiptoed along the line of becoming more than friends, but the fates had set them on different pat
hs.

  “I can,” Siarl replied without hesitation. “Miss Starlight risked her own life to venture into the grounds in order to find the ingredients to transform the citadel. Not only that but she also saved mine.”

  There was a flutter of animated conversation which hushed as Siarl went into the details of what had occurred.

  “More to the point,” he returned sometime later, “I should ask why you would jump to such a conclusion?”

  He glanced around the room, annoyed by the number of supposedly senior leaders who looked away uncomfortably. Then, refusing to play the subsidiary role that he’d been cast in any longer, he surged to his feet and took charge of the meeting, flaunting his authority as a reminder that although he might not sit on the Mage Council, he was still one of a mere handful of the Maharishi who mandated the magic realm.

  “There have been whispers, stories…” One of the younger luminaries choked, buckling under Siarl’s penetrating gaze. A few of the elders had the grace to look embarrassed, but he wasn’t planning to tiptoe around blind authority.

  “So…” He looked at the vaulted ceiling and pursed his lips as he walked away from the dais. Then spinning around, he pinned them all with his derision. “This is what the almighty Mage Council has been reduced to, is it?” he asked scornfully. “Depending on rumours and hearsay like tattling children. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.”

  “Now look here…” One of the other elders began, but Siarl was in no mood to tolerate hasty excuses.

  “No! You look here,” he retorted. “I came here today to report a serious event of a magnitude which we have never had to deal with in the last millennia and you want to pin your suppositions on tittle-tattle and innuendo?”

  He settled his hands on his hips and his natural dominance had radiated from him, making everyone in the room sit up and take note.