THE MANOR WAS BUSTLING with activity. Cars lined down the road and the din of voices from downstairs carried up the staircase. A stampede of footsteps across the polished hardwood floors of the foyer.

Santiago watched from the banister as the people paraded through some with gifts of food. The wafting of sweet baked pastries came through the clearest as the dining table was piled high.

A familiar face tucked under a black hoodie peered up at him. Khalil quickly trotted up the steps to join him.

“I can’t wait to see your manifest.”

“So that's what all this is about.” Santiago raised a brow curiously, “A lot of people come for this sort of thing.”

“Oh yeah, a lot of times it’s kids but there are a good number of older witches with newly inherited powers that come here to get an idea of what they’re working with.” Khalil bumped him, the dreaded ponytail swayed with the movement, “Aren’t you at least a little bit excited?”

He shrugged, “Whatever brand of bullshit this is doesn’t matter. I just need to get a handle on it.”

The two made their way out to the garden where dozens of tables were sprawled under the shade of ornamental trees and winding rows of blooming bushes.

Rosenia, adorned in flowing garments embroidered with ancient symbols, stands before a table adorned with candles, incense, and carefully arranged offerings. Participants, seated in a circle around her, await the commencement.

As silence descends upon the garden, Rosenia's voice resonates with a mixture of reverence and ancient wisdom. “Before we move forward we must always look back to those who paved the way for us to be able to be here today. The ones who fought for us, the ones who died for us, and the ones whose lives shaped ours.”

“I call upon the ancestors, By the blood that runs within my veins. By the spirits of those who came before,” She begins by striking a small handheld drum, its rhythmic beats filling the air. “I call upon the wisdom of my kin, to guide me on this sacred floor.”

The sound reverberates through the space each word echoed by the many witches surrounding. Some of the older ones sat with their eyes closed, hands reaching towards the sky.

The aroma of incense, a blend of earthy herbs and sacred resins, weaving through the air, carrying with it a sense of connection to realms beyond the physical.

Santiago could not differentiate the pounding in his ears from the heavy thrum of his heart or the drum. Thick earthy smoke filled his lungs making his head spin. He looked to his companion who simply watched the fanfare with barely concealed boredom.

Khalil took notice and spoke to him but he could not hear the words.

Santiago felt the brush against his neck as his chain shifted. His head snapped towards the hand coming face to face with dark eyes set in a face he saw each day in the mirror. Santiago lurched backwards landing on his behind.

“Oh shit.” Khalil whispered harshly, gripping him by the upper arms.

“I—did you see that?” Santiago breathed his eyes scanning the crowd.

“See what?”

“It was me.” He breathed, the somber smile and the rich mahogany brown eyes were not his own. Garbed in a loose fitting linen shirt was nothing he had ever worn. “I think it was my dad.”

“You saw him.” Khalil rasped with excitement, “Dude that is such a good omen.”

“Huh,” Santiago was only half listening as he sought the familiar face in the crowd.

“It’s the whole point of the ritual to reach out to the ancestors, invite them to give us their blessings.” Khalil looked at him with amused awe, “I’ve never seen any of mine all the time I’ve done these and first go round see your dad. You’re something else Santiago. Did he say anything?”

“No.” He ran his hands absently over the pendant, “He didn’t say anything.”

“From realms unseen and far away, With open hearts, we gather here, To honor you on this sacred day.” Rosenia's voice, filled with a depth of emotion, rises and falls as she recited the incantation, “Blessed ancestors, spirits near, I offer gifts of love and grace, In this sacred space, we unite. Our bonds of kinship we embrace.”

Rosenia's hands gracefully move over the offerings placed before her, symbols of gratitude and respect for the ancestors. Fruits, flowers, and other meaningful items adorn the altar, signifying the interconnectedness of the present and the past. Each offering carrying with it the collective love and remembrance of the participants' ancestral heritage.

As the ritual reached its peak, Rosenia's voice took on a tone of profound gratitude. She expresses gratitude for the lessons, strength, and resilience passed down through generations. She acknowledges the ancestors' sacrifices and profound connection to their heritage, and offers heartfelt thanks for their continued presence and guidance.

With a final strike of the drum, the ritual comes to a close, and a sacred silence lingers in its place. Participants gradually open their eyes, some weep kneeling onto the floor muttering in their mother languages.

Santiago only caught a glimpse, if they did it again would he actually be able to speak to his father. Hear his voice for the first time. Chest tightened as he gave the bronze circlet a squeeze feeling the embellishments leaving an impression in his skin.

Skylar sprung up from behind them swinging arms around the boys’ shoulders. “Come on, let's get a better view.”

Grateful she snapped Santiago from his reverie the boy let out an audible sigh of relief. He had been standing there long enough for the crowd to disperse. All had trickled to other elders of the group as they walked the congregation through varied rituals.

Stolen story; please report.

The flashiest was a vibrant display of elemental magic, participants learning to harness the power of the elements.

“Together we will explore their affinity for earth, air, fire, or water, deepening your understanding of your magical strengths and connections to the natural world.” Voice as weathered and deep as the lines etched by time in his deeply tanned skin. He was clad in robes of earthy hues. Fabric was worn but lovingly cared for with similar intricate symbols and patterns to Rosenia’s own garbs. Yet these bore the distinct flavor of the man’s Indian roots.

Yash’s eyes were bright and piercing, a long flowing mane of salt and pepper was braided down to his waist. In his hands a staff carved of a gnarled wood and adorned with crystals in the tangled branches representing the elements.

Santiago was captivated by the display as the man molded stone as easily as clay.

Further along were scads of floor level tables with cushions of every size and color tossed about. Perched in one he recognized the gentle waves of chestnut hair. Sylvia sat with her palm in the hand of an older woman whose withered fingers glided over Sylvia’s delicate palm as she performed her reading.

Nestled along the east perimeter of the property were small stands with bushels of herbs and pottery. Witches bartered and traded with each other as the kids weaved among the stalls. The air is thick with the fragrance of fresh cut herbs and perfumes.

“Come, come. “ A silky voice called, the Jamaican woman’s large earring clinked lightly against the metallic ornaments in her tightly dreaded hair. Orange printed satin cardigan hung open loosely showing the smooth planes of her abdomen. Large lapis pendant laid flat between her full breast. “Come here boy, tell me what you need. I have the cure for everything that ails you.”

“I am sure you do.” Santiago muttered, forcing his gaze up pointedly at the deep set eyes that studied him.

“Do you know what happiness tastes like?” Delyse said.

Santiago replied smugly, “Learned that when I was sixteen.”

Skylar smacked the back of his head.

“Your friend is funny Khalil.” Delyse’s laugh was rich and earthy as her complexion, flawless dark skin seemed to glow in the sunlight. Clutched in her between two painted nails was a small vial, “This is one of my best sellers, Joy. Simple, sweet, and a wonderful treat. A good pain reliever and stress reducer with a lingering air of jubilance.”

“I drink it and-” Said Santiago.

“Drops, my boy. Two will do three if you need a bit more in your coffee or tea if you don’t like the bitter.” She flashed a pearly white smile, “Take it all and you will have the best last night of your life.”

“Sold.” Santiago fished in his pocket. “Now do you have anything else you can pawn off on me so I can listen to that musical voice of yours a bit longer?”

Delyse wagged a finger at him, “I like this one.”

Khalil buried his face in his hand. “Santiago, man what am I gonna do with you?”

Skylar leaned in, “Do you sell muzzles?”

“In my personal shop, yes, darling. Anything your heart desires I can procure.” She waved her hand in a fluid motion, “Muzzles, leashes, whips, and chains. I peddle pleasure along with pain.”

Santiago tucked one of the cards on the counter in his back pocket despite Skylar scornful stares. She pulled him along as Khalil pushed him from behind.

“Hurry up, we’re going to miss it.” Skylar hurried ahead of them.

Santiago did want to get an idea what to expect when his turn came around. They followed behind Skylar keeping the splash of pink and blue hair within sight as they weaved through the crowd.

A loud bell rang out catching the attention of those gathered.

Rosenia stood at the forefront to welcome them all, “It is good to see so many familiar faces returning to us here at Coventry. Equally it gives me joy to welcome those who are visiting my home for the first time. For those of you new to Coventry we stand as a community to support witches from all backgrounds to provide guidance and aid to all those in need whether they be blessed with the spark or gifted in other ways. All in need are welcome here to grow and to learn.”

“Today we will be performing a traditional ritual to ascertain the base nature of your abilities.” She held up a sizable silver coin with the same sheen of the streaks of aging in her graying hair, “We will be bringing you up in groups of three. Remember there is no need to be nervous. This is not a test nor a competition, it is merely a tool to help you better understand yourself.”

“It is definitely a competition, and I am going to crush you both into the dust.” Skylar whispered.

Khalil snorted, “Ten bucks says Sky gets up there and chokes.”

“I’ll take that bet.” Santiago said.

“Seriously,” Skylar eyed him, annoyed.

“I'm putting money on you because I believe in you.” Santiago said, the corner of his lip twitched.

Silver coins had been set along the table in front of each of the first group of which were young kids. They could not have been older than twelve.

Each focused their attention on the coin. An older woman paced about occasionally leaned in to provide some instruction to those struggling.

Coin reactions to magic were varied for each person that went up. Sometimes the coin flipped, bounced, rolled, and in Skylar’s case shot off the table like a bullet blowing a hole through the roof of the wooden gazebo.

A moment of silence was followed by applause for the impressive display. Skylar hurriedly returned to them her face a brilliant shade of scarlet.

Santiago tucked the bill into his pants pocket giving his friend a pat, “You did good.”

Skylar groaned.

Manipulation. One of the four core forms of magic. It allows someone to exert their energy over an object to control it according to their will. He thought it was like telekinesis. Khalil insisted there was more to it than that.

Core forms were not so much a type of magic like elemental magic, divination, and illusions as they were a reference to the method behind how these wonders were performed. Someone with an affinity to manipulation had an easier time exerting their magic over another object or being. They could move things with their minds like telekinesis or altering people's senses with a glamor.

They watched as more filed up the steps and more coins were thrown, warped, and even broken apart. One of the most impressive feats was from a pudgy little girl whose coin transformed into the shape of a butterfly twice as large as the original coin. She gave an adorable curtsy to the cheering crowd before she ran back to her mother’s side.

Santiago made his way up to the table. He hadn’t had much luck even when he slipped off the chain from around his neck.

A good omen Khalil had told him.

Santiago was hoping this would be different.

Hand’s hovered above the silver coin. He focused on the only successful attempt at manipulating energy he had that day with Sylvia. Trying to feel out the energy and redirect it into the coin.

For a moment he thought he felt something, yet the silver coin laid flat.

Nothing happened which should have been a good thing. A sign that maybe they were wrong about him. It was not a test. He did not win anything by succeeding. Yet, after seeing his father and knowing his presence was here in some form watching him it still felt like he failed.

“It’s alright Santiago,” Rose reassured. “You simply need more time.”

He nodded.

Khalil patted him on the shoulder, “Don’t worry about it. You’ll get there.”

Santiago was not so sure.