Chaos magic

“It won’t work unless you can behold the stars as individual points.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s just it; you don’t need to. You aren’t supposed to. Forget the constellations. Stop looking at it like it’s a pattern. Like it’s a painting.”

“Then what is it?”

“What’s left. What’s more than what you took from it.”

...

“Okay now take the knife.”

“Why am I doing all the work?”

“Because it’s your spell.”

“What next?”

“Pick it up first.”

“Okay.”

“Hold it.”

“I am.”

“Hold it.”

...

“Point up. Straight up. Now let it tug you.”

“What?”

“Point it up again. Okay. Now imagine a thread is attached to the tip. It’s made of something white and blue and cold but glowing. Picture that. It goes straight to the sky. Can you feel it?”

“I think so...”

“There’s a wind, but not the kind we have. Do you feel that? Can you feel the thread swaying in it? Pulling at the blade? Follow the thread with the knife. Every inch. Don’t let the cord break.”

“Chord? Like music?”

“You’re not wrong.”

“If my mum sees us...”

“Stay concentrated. The wind.”

...

“It’s all around us but it doesn’t make a sound. It moves slowly.”

“Yeah.”

“It won’t always change direction.”

“I’m not sure I feel it.”

“Imagine your feet are in a bucket of ice. Like all the water’s frozen over around them.”

“How’s that supposed to help?”

“It won’t, aside from stopping you thinking so much. Or at least it was meant to.”

“You said you’d done this before.”

“Kind of.”

“What?”

...

“Where’s it guided you?”

“Lower.”

“Than the stars?”

“Yeah. Towards the tops of the trees.”

“They’re part of it too.”

“Part of what?”

“Part of the pattern that isn’t a pattern.”

“The constellations?”

“Yes. Or what the constellations aren’t. The trees are part of that. Do you see how they lean into it?”

“Into the wind?”

“Yes. And into the stars.”