This has to be a dream.

And yet, she distinctly remembered all of the events of the day prior, she could carefully think about how each event flowed into the next, and there was nothing bizarre or dream-like about it. That very morning she had kissed him goodbye before he left to catch his train to the city, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

The sky was still covered in clouds, darker than those in her memories of the day prior, but it didn't rain. She sat in the quiet darkness, her face melted on the table, like a piece of butter only partially spread on the sliced bread.

She had nothing to do. It was too dark to read and she didn't feel like looking for a candle, or using up a light spell that could take hours to remake after use. Since later she was supposed to have a magic lesson, spell-crafting wasn't something she felt like doing. His grey eyes, looking back at her from her memories, gave her back a tentative smile. The thought of kissing him caused a pleasant buzz in her stomach, and the thought of him kissing her back was capable of temporarily washing away that nameless lump beneath her sternum.

A flicker of candlelight, gentle buzz of dragonfly wings.

She was falling asleep again. She had things she wanted to do before meeting with the neighbouring witch later (in the afternoon, right?), but couldn't summon the strength to stand up. Would she need to eat before then? Did she even have breakfast before?

A single droplet of rain no, it wasn't rain. It was a thin, white, vertical line. Like a droplet frozen in time. It moved, as if caressed by an absent wind. It was eight tiny legs that moved it, awkwardly trying to walk down its length. She gently placed her index finger in the path of the little spider, who timidly examined her skin for a while, before accepting the ride she was offering it. It was white. White and tiny in the darkness surrounding them (weren't there supposed to be some windows around?). She loomed over it, a speck of white at the bottom of an ominous well of shadows.

Black threads are my dress, I am the tower no, wait, she didn't want to be the tower. She looked at her hands my dress is creeping up my hands, enveloping them in black threads no, please, she didn't ask for that fluttering wings in my chest, the white spider was a little girl, looking sadly at her from the bottom of the lofty shadows that were once her body fluttering fluttering fluttering BUZZING like dragonfly wings She screamed

awake. The dark clouds were still there, but she was standing in the middle of a meadow, not sitting in her dining room.

"That's enough," declared a familiar voice.

Clelia shook her head, trying to shake the confusion off. She was in the dreamscape realm that she had already visited before and Madame Guillardine was right next to her. The grass in a wide circle around them was yellow and withered. The fairy was holding one blade of grass in her hand, also completely dried up. That's right, the lesson had already begun.

"Want to sit down for a moment?" offered the witch.

Clelia let the blade of grass go and nodded, her breath still somewhat heavy. Madame took her hand and guided her to a chair she was pretty sure hadn't been there before.

As if responding to her confusion, Madame explained, "Being the master of this dreamscape, I can make many things happen."

The young fairy was still dizzy, confused about what exactly was happening, and why she woke up standing in the middle of a circle of dead grass.

"We got a very powerful reaction," Madame commented, "much more so than I expected."

"What happened exactly?" Clelia inquired.

"Take your time. Try to remember on your own."

Clelia closed her eyes and controlled her breathing. While calming down, she slowly managed to piece together the events.

Part of what she had experienced in the dream was real: she now remembered being bored in the dining room after kissing Damian goodbye for real. She allowed herself to smile when reminded of what had happened between her and her husband. The dream version of her memory did have some details that were off, however. For instance, that morning they did see the sun, there weren't heavy clouds like in the dream.

Before having that dream, Madame Guillardine had told her that it was going to be a test, allowing her to judge Clelia's proficiency with the "tide", and did warn her that she might experience hallucinations and/or dreams during the test. She gave her a blade of grass and asked her to close her eyes, that the state the blade of grass would have when she reopened them would tell them what they needed to know.

Clelia indicated the patch of dead grass. "How did my 'tide' do that?"

"The 'tide' is a technique that can be used to master one's emotions, make them resonate through the field of natural magic emitted by all living things. The power of the wave thus created is determined by three factors: the natural magic raw strength of the individual, the emotions that are being used to fuel the 'tide', and the level of technical mastery of the practitioner."

The young fairy made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know all of that very well. Some emotions are more suitable than others, when it comes to getting results. Most emotions can be used to try and induce them into other people, to calm them down, scare them, make them angry. Not all emotions can be used for all purposes, of course."

"For example?" Madame encouraged her to continue.

"Well, joy is an emotion that can be used to induce frenzy in those around you, while sadness can't. In fact, sadness is just generally not a very productive emotion, when it comes to the practice of the 'tide'. Anger and fear, on the other hand, can be used in a variety of different ways, for example to infuse magic into the most powerful spells."

The woman nodded. "Indeed, not all emotions are suitable for spell-crafting. And I'm sure you'll have noticed that the 'tide' tends to be stronger when expressing anger."

"I beg your pardon, Madame, but what does any of this have to do with the grass thing? And why are we going over this in the first place? I know all about it already, it's among the first things noble fairies are taught, long before we even get to wield our own wand."

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"I need to know precisely how much you've already been taught. It will become clear to you, in time, that I can't make any assumptions. The test with the grass serves several different purposes at once, and the first one is to gauge your raw power."

"Well, how did I do?"

Madame looked back at the circle of dead grass. "Your raw power is… about average, for someone your age."

Clelia adjusted her glasses inquisitively. "Didn't you say that you weren't anticipating such a strong reaction?"

"The raw power was determined by the size of the area impacted by our test. It was about as big as I expected it to be: you're not exceptional, but you're far from being as weak as you seem to think you are. What was surprising, however, was the effect you had on the grass. Please, follow me."

A growing nervousness made itself obvious in Clelia's stomach. She didn't like the way Madame didn't seem to want to give her full explanations for anything she was saying, it felt a little like she was wasting her time. Still, she did as she was asked.

They reached a circle of rocks, in the middle of which grew a relatively young oak tree. Madame sat on one of the rocks with a big sigh.

"Even though I make sure to walk often," the witch explained, "the years are still catching up with me. I do need to take a breather."

Clelia nodded and stood awkwardly next to her.

"Tell me, did something significant happen since the last time we met?"

A few things had indeed happened. Most notably, her strange encounter with the girl within the spell she found in her bag, her meeting with the Gatto Mammone, and, of course, the intimate moments she had shared with Damian the day prior.

The fairy shrugged. "Not much."

Madame Guillardine took a deep breath. "You know how I told you that the Babau is actually a demon?"

Clelia nodded.

"Well, it is actually a quite powerful demon. Powerful enough to pose a significant threat for many of the lesser faerie, for one. Even the Gatto Mammone hesitates to confront it directly: she'd likely be strong enough to vanquish it, ultimately, but it would cost the lives of many of the cats in her court, which is a price she's not willing to pay. A creature capable of making the Gatto Mammone wary of a direct confrontation is way stronger than a provincial witch can hope to keep at bay."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Child," she began, "I know you're smart. I'm pretty sure you already wondered what someone like me is doing in this village. Let's forget about our lesson for a moment, and just take some time to get to know each other. Ask me any question: I'll answer, within reason."

To be quite honest, Clelia already wanted to call it quits with the lesson already. She wanted to go back home, do something, anything, on her own while she waited for Damian to come back from his day at school. But, she had to admit, she was actually curious about the Masca and her history.

The fairy decided to play ball. "Well, if you are as strong as you seem to be implying, what are you doing in this village then?"

Clelia managed to catch a hint of self satisfaction in the smirk that briefly passed through Madame's face, only to make way to a much more bittersweet kind of smile. "I'm not sure if you remember, but the Babau called me 'the widow', when I saved you and your friend from its grasp. I was in love, once, you know. I was in love for a very long time. Francesco loved this place: his father helped your husband's grandfather building it, and he grew up here. The Lord of Light never saw fit to bless us with children, but we lived happily for many years. So, when fate separated us, I decided I'd keep on protecting the place he loved so much, even without him at my side."

"I'm… sorry."

The Masca shook her head. "I appreciate the sentiment, but don't be. I do miss him, but he lived a happy life, and I'm just glad that I was able to contribute to his happiness. There are many married couples who cannot stand each other: some started out madly in love with each other, but their feelings turned sour after some time of living together; some get married because of the prospect of an unexpected child, and either or both start resenting the other for being trapped with them; some get hastily married because that's what's expected of them, never actually taking time to consider if they'd be a good match; and, of course, some marry for convenience and for business."

She gave a meaningful look to Clelia with that last phrase, then continued, "Francesco was a stubborn man, even a bit cranky at times, but he never hurt a fly, and behind his sometimes harsh words he hid a generous disposition. I, myself, wasn't always a peach to live with, but… we understood each other. We both knew we could trust the other to be in good faith, even when we made mistakes, as everyone inevitably does. I was already a powerful witch before meeting him, but the time we spent together made me into a more understanding, more open minded woman. This kind of reciprocal understanding, trust, and complicity is more important than being in love, because it breeds love and feeds it over a long period of time."

Clelia furrowed her brows, looked away, and crossed her arms, somewhat embarrassed by the direction that the conversation took. "I didn't ask you to tell me about this stuff."

"Right, right, you didn't," Madame chuckled. "But I do think you need to hear it nonetheless."

Clelia's shoulders drooped. "I'm not so sure I do. I won't be with my husband forever, after all. I… am going to break our vows, once I leave this village behind."

Madame Guillardine raised a brow. "You don't have to, you know? You could just stay, if you wanted."

The fairy gave her back to her neighbour. "I already told you why I can't," her voice trembled, "I know that my mother has plans. I don't want to be a pawn in her game, whatever her game even is. I can't even ask him to come with me: he has friends here, hopes and dreams that I can't ask him to uproot just to follow me. My only choice is to abandon…"

Clelia burst into tears before finishing the sentence. She couldn't even picture clearly why she couldn't stop sobbing uncontrollably, but it was definitely more than just the feelings she had for Damian and for having to leave him behind. All she knew was that some kind of bubble had exploded inside of her, letting a tempest of swirling, contradicting feelings storm within her.

Before she knew it, she realised that Madame had wrapped her in a gentle hug. "There, there. It's alright, you're not alone."

She sniffled inelegantly. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me…"

The witch sat her down on the rock she had been occupying before. "Don't worry, it's fine. Let it all out."

When she finally calmed down, she felt empty, but also somewhat lighter.

Patting her on the shoulder, Madame Guillardine said, "This, child, is why your 'tide' killed all the grass, before. It's the reason why I was surprised by the strength of the reaction in our test. It's because of all of these feelings you were bottling up inside. I induced in you a dream that would bring up your deepest, most powerful hidden feelings, that's what the test was all about in the first place. I'm not going to ask you the specifics, but it's clear you have a lot of very strong, unresolved feelings inside of you. I can teach you how to understand them, live with them, find peace from them, and even how to harness them to make your magic stronger."

"But… how did this happen? Why did my 'tide' react so strongly? Much stronger than with anger…"

"The answer is simple. The Arania gens taught you that anger, grudge, and fear are the stronger feelings, the ones more apt for spell-crafting, but that's not really true."

Clelia shook her head. "You yourself said that not all emotions are equally suited for spell-crafting, what are you on about right now?"

"The gens Saturna puts the same emphasis on pride, self-confidence, and determination as your family does with anger. Every gens has their own tradition, and within their tradition they put an emphasis on different emotions. The truth, however, is that the emotions more well suited for spell-crafting and other uses vary from one person to the next. They try to educate their little girls in such a way as to be in line with the family tradition, but they regularly fail, and when they do a girl like you is the result: weak by their standards, because she's unable to practice magic the way she was taught."

Clelia's eyes widened. "W-what are you saying?"

A proud smile appeared on Madame's face. "If I teach you how to find your core emotions and master them with the 'tide', even just that will make your magic as strong as your sisters'. If you allow me to teach you more than that about fairy magic, I promise you you can get even more powerful than them. Perhaps, powerful enough to force your mother to leave you alone, no matter where you live."