The Moon & The Star BOOK ONE
written by Lizzie Scamander
Guinevere Moon is a girl in the medieval times, when wizards and witches were executed and burnt at the stake for simply being who they were. She is horrified and frightened when she realises that she is a witch, for if anyone finds out... If you like this, please message me, I'd like to know what you think of it!
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
5
Reads
701
Magic
Chapter 2
Guinevere felt strangely numb, though not from the morning chill. She couldn't believe what the boy opposite her had just said - and she wouldn't believe it! A sudden stubborn determination to prove him wrong stirred within her, and she made a defiant denial:
"I - I'm not witch, how dare you even say so!"
"Then what happened back there?" The boy demanded. "Admit it. But there's no time to dawdle, we need to get going. If anyone finds us -" he moved his finger across his throat - "we're dead."
Guinevere felt oddly dizzy and faint, and leaned against the oak trunk for support. The boy noticed and empathy flashed across his expression.
"You'll just be tired," he said sympathetically. "Magical exhaustion, you see. And you don't even have a wand!"
"A - A wand?" Guinevere said faintly. Wands? What on earth did he mean? But inside deep down, she did know what he meant, and her eyes were drawn to the smooth handle of the stick protruding from his pocket. He noticed her looking, and pulled it out. She stared. It was beautiful. An artistic vine was carved swirling round the item to the tip, and the whole thing shone magnificently, from a light that seemed to issue from the wand itself. The boy held it up, moved it in a specific motion, and murmured, "Lumos!"
The wand lighted. Guinevere felt herself stumbling backwards. Her foot collided with something warm and furry, and she looked down to notice the cat-like creature the boy had been holding before. It glared up at her through its sharp yellow eyes, disapproving of her clumsiness.
"That's Blaze my Kneazle," the boy explained, though to Guinevere it was not an explanation at all. "Yet like I said before, let's not dawdle. Come on," and he seized her arm and tugged her deeper into the forest.
Guinevere was too weak to protest, and permitted him to pull her along without objection, though inside she complained relentlessly, and worry swirled, never ceasing in the slightest. What would happen to her? What had happened to Mr. Gunther? This boy says I did it, she thought. But I didn't! Or so she hoped so.
The boy stopped. "I think this is deep enough," he said. "You can rest now."
Gladly, Guinevere sank down onto the forest floor and relaxed. Exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she sank into a dreamless slumber.
"I - I'm not witch, how dare you even say so!"
"Then what happened back there?" The boy demanded. "Admit it. But there's no time to dawdle, we need to get going. If anyone finds us -" he moved his finger across his throat - "we're dead."
Guinevere felt oddly dizzy and faint, and leaned against the oak trunk for support. The boy noticed and empathy flashed across his expression.
"You'll just be tired," he said sympathetically. "Magical exhaustion, you see. And you don't even have a wand!"
"A - A wand?" Guinevere said faintly. Wands? What on earth did he mean? But inside deep down, she did know what he meant, and her eyes were drawn to the smooth handle of the stick protruding from his pocket. He noticed her looking, and pulled it out. She stared. It was beautiful. An artistic vine was carved swirling round the item to the tip, and the whole thing shone magnificently, from a light that seemed to issue from the wand itself. The boy held it up, moved it in a specific motion, and murmured, "Lumos!"
The wand lighted. Guinevere felt herself stumbling backwards. Her foot collided with something warm and furry, and she looked down to notice the cat-like creature the boy had been holding before. It glared up at her through its sharp yellow eyes, disapproving of her clumsiness.
"That's Blaze my Kneazle," the boy explained, though to Guinevere it was not an explanation at all. "Yet like I said before, let's not dawdle. Come on," and he seized her arm and tugged her deeper into the forest.
Guinevere was too weak to protest, and permitted him to pull her along without objection, though inside she complained relentlessly, and worry swirled, never ceasing in the slightest. What would happen to her? What had happened to Mr. Gunther? This boy says I did it, she thought. But I didn't! Or so she hoped so.
The boy stopped. "I think this is deep enough," he said. "You can rest now."
Gladly, Guinevere sank down onto the forest floor and relaxed. Exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she sank into a dreamless slumber.
