Finnegan Star wanted to climb the tallest tower in Cattail Maw and learn the forbidden spell hidden at its top. But that morning he stood in the grass, staff raised, and made only a weak spark. The spark fizzled and died. His giant staff was taller than he was, and so far it had done nothing useful. He tried again. He shouted the word he thought was right and swung the staff hard. A puff of smoke coughed out and vanished. His wizard hat slid over his eyes. Finnegan pushed it back and stamped his foot. "You are holding it like a broom," said a voice behind him. Finnegan turned. An old wizard leaned on a small wand near the base of a living tree, its round window glowing gold. This was Aldric Shroud, the oldest wizard in Cattail Maw, the one every child was warned not to bother. His white beard reached his belt. His blue robes were dusted with stars, and he wore sandals in the cold grass. "I have to reach the top of the tower," Finnegan said. "But my staff won't do anything." Aldric snorted. "The tower. Boys always want the tower first and the basics never." He tapped the ground with his wand. "A spell is not shouting. A spell is asking. Stop yelling at the wood." Finnegan lowered the staff. "Then how do I ask?" Aldric whistled once. A tiny white unicorn trotted out from behind the tree. Its horn threw off bright sparks, and small fangs showed when it grinned. "Magic is already everywhere," the old wizard said. "That is where you pull it from. Not from your lungs." He stepped close and set Finnegan's hands on the staff. "Feel the horn's light. Don't grab it. Invite it." The unicorn pressed its sparkling horn against the staff's tip. Finnegan closed his eyes. He stopped trying to force the word out. He pictured the sparks flowing down the wood into his hands, slow and warm. He whispered the word this time, soft as a question. The staff hummed. A ribbon of blue light spun up its length and burst above him in a shower of tiny stars. The stars drifted down and landed cool on his face. He had cast a real spell. "There," Aldric said. He almost smiled. "Now you are a wizard. A very small one." Finnegan laughed and cast it again. The light came easily now. But as the second burst faded, the unicorn's horn flashed a strange red. The tree window went dark. A low rumble rolled across the ground beneath their feet. Aldric's smile dropped. He gripped his wand and stared toward the far tower. "That is the tower answering back," he said quietly. "You woke something. It heard you." Finnegan stood frozen, stars still cooling on his cheeks. He could cast now. And now the tower knew his name.

The rumble faded, but the far tower still glowed red at its peak. Finnegan gripped his staff and started walking toward it. Aldric caught his sleeve. "Not on foot," the old wizard said. "The tower stands past Cattail Maw's marsh. Boys sink in that mud and never climb out." He pointed with his wand. Between them and the tower spread black water, tall reeds, and no path at all. Finnegan lowered his staff. "Then how do I cross?" Aldric led him to a small cave near the water's edge. A fire burned inside, and the stone walls glowed warm. A giant toad squatted by the flames, big as a pony, its throat pulsing. "He carries riders across the reeds," Aldric said. "But he only obeys a wizard who asks him kindly. Try shouting and he'll leave you knee-deep in the mud." Finnegan stepped closer. The toad watched him with one gold eye. He remembered the lesson: invite, don't force. He knelt, held out his hand, and whispered the same soft word he'd used on the staff. Warmth flowed from his palm. The toad blinked slowly and lowered its head to him. "Good," Aldric said. "Now climb." Finnegan swung a leg over the toad's wide back. It hopped once, twice, out into the marsh. Mud sucked below, but the toad's feet found each root and hummock. Reeds slapped his hat. He clung to the staff and laughed, closer to the tower with every leap. Then the water ahead flashed crimson. A woman in a red hooded cloak stood atop a floating slab of stone, arms crossed. Her hair burned bright as coals. She was no friend of Aldric's; the old wizard's whistle behind Finnegan turned sharp with warning. "So you're the little spark that woke the tower," she said. Her voice was smooth and cold. "That spell belongs to me, boy. Turn your toad around." Finnegan's heart pounded. "I'm not turning back." "Then I'll flood your path." She raised a gloved hand. Red light gathered in her palm. Finnegan didn't shout. He shut his eyes and asked the marsh for help, the way he'd learned. The reeds around him bent low. He pointed his staff at the woman's stone slab. A ribbon of blue light spun out and struck the water beneath her. A wave rose and rocked the slab hard. She stumbled, and her red fire scattered into the reeds and died. "Go!" Aldric called from the shore. The toad leaped again, hard, past the woman's tilting stone. Finnegan glanced back once. She glared after him, soaked and furious, but she could not follow across the deep water. The toad splashed onto solid ground at last. The tower rose straight above him now, red light pulsing at its top. Finnegan slid off, mud to his knees, staff in hand. He had crossed the marsh. But the woman in red knew his face now, and she wanted the spell for herself.