Mira Thorne stared at the wilting petunia, willing it to perk up. A bead of sweat formed on her brow as she focused, channeling what remained of her elemental magic into the drooping flower. The purple petals twitched slightly, then fell still.
She sighed and wiped her forehead. Ten years ago, she could have rejuvenated the entire flowerbed with a flick of her wrist. Now she could barely coax a single bloom back to life. Her powers were fading, draining away like sand through an hourglass.
“Mom! I’m home!” The front door slammed, jolting Mira from her brooding. She hastily straightened up, pasting on a cheerful smile as her son trudged into the kitchen.
“Hey sweetie, how was school?”
Jasper shrugged, dumping his backpack on the floor. “Fine.”
Mira’s smile faltered. Jasper had always been a quiet kid, but lately he’d become downright withdrawn. She watched with concern as he slouched to the fridge and grabbed a soda, averting his eyes.
“Did you have soccer practice today?” she asked, trying to draw him out.
“Nah. Coach cancelled.” Jasper popped the tab on his drink and took a long swig.
“Oh. Well, maybe we could kick the ball around in the backyard later? It’s such a nice day.”
Jasper’s shoulders hunched. “I’ve got a lot of homework,” he mumbled. Without waiting for a response, he shuffled out of the kitchen and up the stairs. His bedroom door closed with a soft click.
Mira’s cheerful facade crumpled. She slumped against the counter, suddenly exhausted. What was happening to her sweet, curious little boy? It was like all the light had gone out of him.
She gazed out the window at their neatly manicured lawn. The grass looked a little lackluster, she noted absently. She’d have to remind Greg to fertilize this weekend.
A movement caught her eye. Their elderly neighbor, Mrs. Willow, was out puttering in her garden again. The old woman spent more time fussing over her plants than anyone Mira had ever met. As she watched, Mrs. Willow bent to examine a rosebush, running gnarled fingers delicately over the leaves.
For a moment, Mira could have sworn she saw a faint shimmer in the air around the old woman’s hands. She blinked and shook her head. Just a trick of the light. Her magic sense must really be going if she was imagining auras around little old ladies.
With a sigh, Mira turned away from the window. Time to start dinner. As she began chopping vegetables, she tried to shake off the nagging feeling that something was very wrong in her perfect suburban world.
The next morning, Mira was jolted awake by shrill shrieks coming from outside. She bolted upright, heart racing. Greg was already out of bed, peering out the window with a frown.
“What on earth?” he muttered.
Mira scrambled to join him. Their next-door neighbor, Susan Phelps, was standing in her front yard in a bathrobe, hands clasped to her cheeks in horror. Her husband Jim hovered nearby, looking bewildered.
“My lawn!” Susan wailed. “Look what’s happened to my lawn!”
Mira’s jaw dropped. The Phelps’ previously immaculate grass was a sickly yellow-brown, huge dead patches spreading across the yard like some sort of blight. It looked like it had been doused in weed killer.
“That’s impossible,” Greg said. “It was fine yesterday. Grass doesn’t die overnight like that.”
But it had. As they watched, other neighbors emerged from their houses, exclaiming in shock at the state of the Phelps’ yard. Mira’s stomach clenched as she noticed several other lawns on the street showing signs of the same mysterious decay.
“I’d better go see what’s going on,” Greg said, pulling on a pair of jeans. “This is bizarre.”
Mira nodded absently, her mind racing. She’d seen plant life wither rapidly like this before, but only when dark magic was involved. Could this be some kind of curse? But who would target their sleepy suburban neighborhood?
She dressed quickly and headed downstairs. Jasper was already up, peering out the living room window at the commotion.
“What’s wrong with everyone’s grass?” he asked.
“I’m not sure, honey,” Mira replied. “Why don’t you have some breakfast while I go check it out?”
Jasper shrugged listlessly. “Not hungry.”
Mira frowned, but decided to let it go for now. She had bigger concerns at the moment. She stepped outside, immediately accosted by the panicked babble of her neighbors.
“–never seen anything like it–” “–must be some kind of disease–” “–probably those new fertilizers–”
Mira tuned out the chatter, focusing her senses. She may not have much active power left, but years of magical training had honed her ability to detect mystical energies. She closed her eyes, reaching out with her awareness.
At first, she felt nothing but the usual background hum of life energy from the plants and trees. But as she concentrated harder, she became aware of a faint wrongness. A dissonant note in the symphony of nature. It was elusive, slipping away whenever she tried to focus on it directly.
“Quite the to-do, isn’t it?”
Mira’s eyes snapped open. Mrs. Willow stood beside her, leaning on a gnarled wooden cane. The old woman’s rheumy eyes twinkled with what looked suspiciously like amusement.
“Oh! Yes, it’s awful,” Mira said quickly. “I can’t imagine what could have caused this.”
Mrs. Willow hummed noncommittally. “Nature can be unpredictable. But I suspect there’s more going on here than meets the eye.” She fixed Mira with a penetrating stare. “Don’t you agree, dear?”
Mira’s breath caught. There was knowing glint in the old woman’s gaze that sent a shiver down her spine. Before she could respond, Greg’s voice rang out.
“Alright everyone, let’s try to stay calm! I’ve called the lawn care company. They’re sending someone out this afternoon to take samples and run some tests. In the meantime, let’s not jump to conclusions.”
The neighbors gradually dispersed, still muttering worriedly amongst themselves. Mira turned back to Mrs. Willow, but the old woman had vanished as silently as she’d appeared.
Unsettled, Mira retreated back inside. She needed to do some research of her own.
Over the next few days, an atmosphere of tension settled over the neighborhood like a heavy fog. More and more lawns succumbed to the mysterious blight. The lawn care company was baffled, unable to identify any known pathogen or pest that could cause such rapid, widespread decay.
Mira spent every spare moment poring over her old magical texts, searching for any reference to a curse or spell that matched the symptoms. But her library was woefully out of date. She hadn’t acquired any new tomes since moving to the suburbs and trying to live a “normal” life.
She considered reaching out to her old mentor, but hesitated. She’d burned a lot of bridges when she’d walked away from the magical community. And she wasn’t sure she was ready to face their judgment - or admit how much of her power she’d lost.
Meanwhile, Jasper grew more withdrawn by the day. He spent most of his time shut up in his room, emerging only for meals. When Mira tried to talk to him, she got nothing but monosyllabic grunts in response.
She knew she should be more proactive about addressing his mood, but she was stretched thin trying to solve the lawn mystery while maintaining her facade of suburban normality. Greg was starting to give her odd looks, clearly sensing that something was off with her behavior.
It all came to a head on a gloomy Saturday afternoon. Mira was in the backyard, surreptitiously attempting to cast a detection spell, when she heard the back door open. She quickly straightened up, hoping Greg hadn’t noticed anything amiss.
But it wasn’t Greg. It was Jasper, shuffling across the browning grass with his shoulders slumped and his eyes on the ground.
“Hey sweetie,” Mira said, forcing cheer into her voice. “I was just about to come see if you wanted to watch a movie or something.”
Jasper didn’t respond. He came to a stop a few feet away, still not meeting her eyes.
“Jasper? Is everything okay?”
He mumbled something she couldn’t make out.
“What was that, honey? I didn’t quite catch-”
“I said it’s all my fault!” Jasper’s head snapped up, his eyes brimming with tears. “The grass, the flowers, everything dying - it’s because of me!”
Mira gaped at him, stunned. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about? Of course it’s not your fault.”
“Yes it is!” Jasper insisted. “I - I don’t know how to explain it. But I can feel it. All the sadness and anger and fear. It’s like this big dark cloud, and it’s coming from me somehow. I’m making everything sick!”
He was growing more agitated by the second. As Mira watched in horror, the grass around his feet began to wither and blacken.
“Jasper, calm down,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Just take a deep breath, okay? Everything’s going to be fine.”
But Jasper was beyond listening. “No! You don’t understand! I’m a monster. I’m killing everything!”
The darkness spread in a widening circle around him. Mira could feel the wrongness she’d sensed before, but much stronger now. It radiated from Jasper in waves, a miasma of despair and decay.
She had to do something, fast. But what? Her magic was so weak, she didn’t know if she had the power to counter whatever this was.
Just as she was about to attempt a binding spell and damn the consequences, a familiar voice rang out.
“That’s quite enough of that, young man!”
Mrs. Willow strode across the lawn, moving with surprising speed for someone her age. Before Mira could react, the old woman had grabbed Jasper’s arm with one hand and rapped him smartly on the head with her cane.
“Ow!” Jasper yelped, more startled than hurt.
The dark energy dissipated like mist in sunlight. Mrs. Willow nodded in satisfaction.
“There now. That’s better, isn’t it?” She turned to Mira with a wry smile. “I think it’s time we had a little chat, dear. All three of us.”
Ten minutes later, they were seated around Mira’s kitchen table. Jasper clutched a mug of hot chocolate, looking shell-shocked. Mira wasn’t faring much better. Her mind was reeling, struggling to process everything that had just happened.
Mrs. Willow seemed perfectly at ease, sipping her tea with a serene expression.
“Well,” she said finally. “I suppose introductions are in order. Mira, you may have guessed by now that I’m not quite the doddering old neighbor I’ve been pretending to be.”
Mira nodded weakly. “You’re a witch.”
“Retired,” Mrs. Willow corrected. “Or I was, until this little crisis arose. It seems our young Jasper here has come into his power rather dramatically.”
Jasper’s eyes widened. “My… power?”
Mrs. Willow patted his hand. “Oh yes, dear. You come from a long line of magic users. Though I daresay your mother hoped to keep that little secret for a few more years.” She arched an eyebrow at Mira.
Mira flushed. “I thought… I thought if I stopped using magic, if I raised him normally, his abilities might never manifest.”
“A foolish notion,” Mrs. Willow said, not unkindly. “Magic is in the blood. It will always find a way out, one way or another. Though I must say, I’ve never seen such a potent manifestation in one so young. The boy has remarkable potential.”
“But I don’t understand,” Jasper said. “What’s happening to me? Why is everything dying?”
Mrs. Willow’s expression softened. “You’re an empath, dear. A very powerful one. You’ve been picking up on all the negative emotions in the neighborhood - the fears, the anxieties, the secret hurts people try to hide. And without training, you’ve been projecting those feelings outward, tainting the natural energy of the plants and soil.”
Jasper looked stricken. “So it really is my fault.”
“No,” Mira said firmly. “No, sweetheart. This isn’t your fault at all. I’m the one who should have prepared you, who should have noticed what was happening.” She took a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry, Jasper. I thought I was protecting you, but I’ve only made things worse.”
Mrs. Willow clucked her tongue. “Now, now. There’s no use assigning blame. What’s done is done. The question is, what are we going to do about it?”
Mira straightened her shoulders. “We’ll leave. I’ll contact my old coven, see if they can recommend a tutor for Jasper. Somewhere remote where he can learn to control his abilities without risking-”
“Oh, stuff and nonsense,” Mrs. Willow interrupted. “You don’t need to go anywhere. I’m perfectly capable of teaching the boy.”
Mira blinked. “You? But I thought you were retired.”
Mrs. Willow’s eyes twinkled. “I’m old, dear, not dead. I’ve forgotten more about magic than most ever learn. Besides,” she added with a sly smile, “I think you could use a refresher course yourself. Your technique is dreadfully rusty.”
Mira flushed again, but couldn’t deny the truth of the statement. And if she was honest with herself, the thought of delving back into magic thrilled her in a way she hadn’t felt in years.
“What do you think, Jasper?” she asked. “Would you like to learn magic from Mrs. Willow?”
Jasper bit his lip. “I… I think so. But what if I hurt someone again?”
“You won’t,” Mrs. Willow said confidently. “Not once you learn to control your gift. In fact, I suspect you’ll be able to do a great deal of good. An empath can be a powerful force for healing.”
A spark of hope kindled in Jasper’s eyes. “Really?”
“Really,” Mira confirmed, squeezing his hand. “And I’ll be right here with you, every step of the way. We’ll figure this out together.”
For the first time in weeks, Jasper smiled. It was small and tentative, but it made Mira’s heart soar.
Mrs. Willow clapped her hands briskly. “Excellent! We’ll start first thing tomorrow. But for now,” she fixed Mira with a stern look, “I think you have a husband to talk to, don’t you?”
Mira grimaced. That was not a conversation she was looking forward to. But Mrs. Willow was right. It was time to stop hiding.
As if on cue, they heard the front door open. “I’m home!” Greg called. “You wouldn’t believe the crazy rumors going around about the lawn thing. Someone’s saying it’s a government conspiracy now. Can you believe that?”
Mira exchanged a look with Mrs. Willow and Jasper. Despite everything, she had to stifle a laugh.
“You have no idea,” she muttered. Taking a deep breath, she stood up. “In here, honey. There’s something I need to tell you…”
Epilogue - Six Months Later
Mira stood in her backyard, basking in the warm spring sunshine. The lawn was lush and green, dotted with colorful wildflowers. In the distance, she could hear the cheerful shouts of children playing.
So much had changed in half a year. There had been a rough patch at first - Greg had not taken the revelation of magic well. But with time and patience (and, Mira suspected, a bit of magical nudging from Mrs. Willow), he had come around.
Now their little cul-de-sac had become an unexpected haven for magic users. Word had spread in the supernatural community that the Thornes were open to “alternative lifestyles.” They’d gained several new neighbors with abilities ranging from minor charms to full-blown sorcery.
Mira’s own powers had flourished under Mrs. Willow’s tutelage. She’d forgotten how much joy there was in working magic, in feeling that connection to the living world around her.
But the biggest transformation had been in Jasper. Gone was the moody, withdrawn boy of six months ago. He’d taken to magical training like a duck to water, soaking up every lesson Mrs. Willow could offer.
His empathic abilities, once a source of pain, were now his greatest strength. He’d become a favorite among the neighborhood kids, always able to sense when someone was upset and offer comfort. Mira had even caught him giving advice to some of the adults, with a wisdom far beyond his years.
Right on cue, Jasper came bounding across the lawn, his face flushed with excitement.
“Mom! Come quick! Mrs. Willow says she’s going to teach us how to talk to trees today!”
Mira laughed. “Alright, alright. I’m coming.”
As she followed her son to the fence that separated their yard from Mrs. Willow’s, Mira felt a profound sense of contentment wash over her.
Life wasn’t perfect. There were still challenges to face, still moments of doubt and fear. But for the first time in years, she felt truly alive. Truly herself.
She reached out with her senses, feeling the pulse of magic that flowed through the earth, through the plants, through her family. No longer constrained, no longer hidden.
Free.