Chloe very rarely had time when she could get away from her responsibilities at Fort Witchwood. Luckily, she had five friends she could trust. Friends? The New Witch Gang was more like family. Surprisingly, it was Vellam who suggested that the young leader take a day for herself. 

"We can take care of running things today, White." The half-elf had told her.

"Are you sure? Don't we need to arrange for a group to go into town? What about dinner? Is the meat keeping? Did Lucas wash his costume yet? How are the young ones -" 

"Chloe, the last week was tough on everyone. Especially you. Take the day. I'll see you tonight, okay?" 

Chloe nodded. "Thanks, Pink."

On her walk, Chloe made sure to mark her path with trees of white ribbon. Though it served the practical purpose of ensuring she didn't get lost on her way back to the fort, she found that tieing each knot was more comforting than she expected it to be. She remembered Daretti's explanation of magic. It's like tieing a knot.

A half-hour later Chloe found herself in the middle of a small clearing. She lay in the middle of the grass staring at the open sky thinking about the recent events. The fire. Building the fort. The Sickle.

The Sickle.

Chloe looked around her for a brief, paranoid moment, ensuring no one was watching her as she took out the hand sickle. It was a beautifully crafted weapon. The hilt, which had to have been made of silver, had three beautiful opals adorning it. The blade was shaped like a perfect crescent moon, and though Chloe suspected it was carved from bone she didn't know that it was ivory taken from a Narwhal's horn. She knew it was incredibly powerful and at one time belonged to the famous vigilante known as the White Witch. Words were etched into the hilt in a language that Chloe was never taught, yet, somehow, knew instinctually.

True knowledge begins by knowing thyself.

The phrase reminded her of what Daretti had told her about practicing magic. Chloe had no idea how to harness her magic into this object, or the magic in herself for that matter. There was one thing she could do, and that was practice.

She held the sickle and closed her eyes, imagining the magic inside her as strings connecting to the magic of the world around her and extending to the weapon she held in her hand. She tried imagining a beam of light like the one that engulfed the Mizbasha the week before.

Nothing.

She collapsed back onto the green blanket beneath her. Clouds started to trickle into the sky. 

"What am I doing wrong?" Chloe said aloud.

True knowledge begins by knowing thyself.

She took a deep breath and sat up, tightening her grip on the weapon. Determined, she closed her eyes. This time she didn't try to force the weave. She let the magic around her take shapes all on its own. She watched it, studied it.

In her minds eye she saw to figures composed of pure arcane light. They looked like they were dancing. Chloe found herself following each graceful step and as she did, she felt a warm light continue to grow inside her.

She opened her eyes and was astonished at the sight she saw. As if burned into the field by radiant light, there was the shape of a crecent moon. When she looked down at her sickle she saw it's ivory blade giving off a faint glow.

A wide smile appeared on Chloe's face and she dashed back home in excitement to tell her friends.

To tell her family.