2.  Invitations

A discreet, wooden sign on the heavy oak door of 'The Vintner's Rest' declared it 'Closed for a Private Event,' a polite deterrent to any hopeful Mayfair wanderers. Inside, the usual mid-morning bustle of the city felt a world away. Bright April sunlight, a stark contrast to the bar's dark charm, streamed through the arched windows. It illuminated dust motes and cast a light on the polished mahogany bar and the rows of gleaming glassware.

Aside from the two figures settled into a curved alcove in the far corner, and a pair of waiters – one meticulously polishing a decanter behind the bar, the other standing sentinel near the door – the place was a study in elegant emptiness. Each chair, each small table, perfectly set.

Within the alcove that managed to look both cosy and conspiratorial, Jessie sat with her coffee. She sipped the coffee that had been silently delivered as she was shown to the table. She was only mildly creeped out that the waiter knew how she took her coffee without asking her. 

Across the table, Philippa sat tapping a manicured finger against her wine glass. The clinking sound was the only clue to the nervousness she was carefully suppressing. Her gaze swept over Jessie and the waiters, aloof curiosity in her light brown eyes.

The bell above the door chimed discreetly, announcing a new arrival. Alex entered the bar, his dark brown hair still unkempt. He looked around, a slightly bewildered expression on his face, before being intercepted by one of the waiters. "This way, sir, if you please", and he was led to the same alcove. Pippa ignored him and made no sign of moving so, with a sigh, Jessie shuffled round the table to leave him space. 

As he sat down, a rich, hot chocolate mixture in a giant mug overflowing with whipped cream and marshmallows was presented to Alex. His face lit up with childlike delight, and Jessie, carefully watching Alex from the corner of her eye, smirked—points in his favour.

Cradling the steaming mug, Alex scanned the other occupants of the alcove, and the sensory overload hit him again, though differently this time. It wasn't just sights and sounds; it was them. From the woman opposite him, Philippa, he felt a wave of cool, controlled calculation, like the chill off polished steel, but beneath it, a faint, hidden undercurrent of deep loneliness. His eyes met hers, and his cheeks instantly flushed a vibrant crimson. He looked away, embarrassed by the intrusive intimacy of what he'd just felt.

As he shifted his gaze, he found himself staring directly into Jessie’s dark brown eyes. From her, the sensation was different: a sharp, analytical energy, like a crackle of static electricity, but walled off by a palpable sense of insecurity. Another wave of heat washed over his face. He quickly averted his eyes and, looking down, knew he was in trouble the moment he started wishing the marshmallows would give him life advice.

Carla Bennett swept into the bar, a sharp silhouette in a dark blue suit. Behind her trailed a blonde in a sundress —Willow— who smiled warmly. If Jessie was dappled sunlight and Philippa was ice, Willow was open fields and a warm breeze. Carla caught the eye of one of the waiters, who silently nodded back. She guided Willow to the booth, forcing a reluctant Philippa to shimmy sideways to make room. 

As Carla took her seat at the head of the table, a chair appearing silently beneath her, she produced a slim case from her bag. Without preamble, she slid three crisp, elegant cards across the table—one for Jessie, one for Philippa, and one for Alex. Beneath her name and number, a single word was embossed in curving, golden script: Cygnus. 

There was a momentary pause and then Willow, sensitive to everyone else's caution, smiled at them all.

"Hi everyone, I'm Willow," she said, extending a hand to Jessie. "It's lovely to meet you all!"

Jessie recoiled. "Jessie Walker," she stated. "Not touching."

Philippa held out her hand, palm down, as if expecting Willow to kiss it. "Philippa Lewis," she said, her voice cool and refined.

Willow, momentarily confused, gave Philippa's fingers a brief, gentle shake. "Right then," she said, a little nervously. Finally, Willow turned to Alex. "And you are…?"

He scrambled upright. "Alexander Rowan. Er… Alex."As they gripped each other's hands, Alex felt another wave of sensation from Willow—a gentle, earthy calm mixed with a deep-seated fear of this new, unfamiliar world. A strange, gentle hum passed between them, and his blush deepened, reaching levels of redness he previously thought impossible. He quickly let her hand go.

Philippa raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her expression disdainful. "Do you do that often, Mr. Rowan? Spontaneous combustion of the face, I mean?"

Alex blinked, his brain still not fully functioning. "Do what?"

"Blush," Jessie clarified, her voice quiet. "It does seem to be your thing."

Before Alex could stammer a reply, Carla interrupted, her expression serious. "I was expecting someone else," she said, her gaze sweeping over the group, "but we'll proceed anyway." 

Alex was still reeling from the sensory input he was getting from everyone, and tried to focus on his hot chocolate.

It was then that his heightened empathy snagged on something sharp, coming from Willow. She was trying to hide it behind the small, polite smile fixed on her face, but Alex could feel the panic radiating from her in waves. He felt her sense of dislocation, the feeling of being a country girl suddenly adrift in a vast, intimidating city, surrounded by strangers who were all sharper, more confident, more everything than she was. He could feel her heart hammering, her desperate urge to bolt from the bar and run until she found a patch of green.

His own embarrassment, his own social anxiety, simply evaporated. It was trivial and forgotten in the face of Willow’s fear. The blush on his cheeks faded and he looked at the others. Pippa was observing them all with a cool detachment. Jessie was assessing and analysing them.

But no one else saw what he did, and he had to do something.

He pushed his untouched hot chocolate across the table towards her. "Here," he said, his voice quiet but steady, cutting through the awkward silence. "You look like you need this more than I do."

Willow looked up, startled, her green eyes wide.

Alex didn't wait for a reply. He kept his tone gentle, conversational, grounding. "You're from Yorkshire, right?"

She just managed a small nod.

"My grandad was from the Dales," he continued softly, ignoring the surprised looks from the other girls. "He always said the air was different there. Cleaner. Said you could think better." He gave her a small, reassuring smile. "It's a bit much, isn't it? All this." He gestured vaguely at the opulent bar, at the city outside the window. "It's okay to feel a bit overwhelmed."

It was exactly the right thing to say. Her eyes shone with moisture, but she kept it together as the panic in her eyes began to recede, replaced by a look of quiet, dawning gratitude. She wrapped her hands around the warm mug, and smiled softly at Alex.

Jessie's analytical gaze shifted from Willow to Alex. More points for Alex, she decided. And Pippa… Pippa watched Alex, perhaps a hint of grudging respect in her eyes.

"There's a great deal I need to explain," Carla continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But it would be too much to take in all at once, and frankly, you wouldn't believe me. Let's just say you've been incredibly lucky —think 'golden Wonka ticket' lucky.

As if on cue, the bar’s door burst open. A slim young woman with short light brown hair and flushed cheeks hurried in, dragging a small, battered suitcase that rattled on the wooden floor. A flustered waiter trailed in her wake, having failed to intercept her and assist with her luggage.

"Sorry I'm late!" she exclaimed, breathless, as she made a beeline for their table. "I'm Katja!" She beamed at the group, a genuine, wide smile that instantly erased any annoyance at her dramatic entrance.

"Katja, perfect timing," Carla said calmly, gesturing to an approaching waiter who was already carrying a spare chair. "Sit down. A drink? Perhaps a coffee."

Ignoring the offered chair completely, Katja grinned at Alex. "Move round Alex," she said, squeezing onto the bench beside him and shoving him with her bottom. The moment she made contact, Alex felt it: an overwhelming, joyful, and uncomplicated warmth, like standing in the sun on the first day of summer. He tried desperately to remember where they might have met, pretty sure that he would not have forgotten Katja's distinctive bright blue eyes. He watched her as she looked up at a second waiter, who was presenting a large latte with a flourish. "A herbal tea, please." The waiter froze, latte in hand, his professional poise crumbling into confusion before he retreated to the bar.

"I'm guessing introductions have been made?" Katja asked, glancing at the others. "Perhaps we could do them again? Just for me?"

Before anyone else could respond, Willow's hand had already extended across the table to Katja. "Willow". Alex noticed their eyes widened slightly as they shook hands, and he suspected they were having the same reaction he had experienced earlier. They quickly broke contact.

Katja coughed, a slightly awkward sound. "Well, that was... weird," she said, blinking. She looked at the others. "Maybe we should skip the handshakes?"

"Thank goodness," Jessie muttered under her breath, earning a nod from Philippa. "I'm Jessie, this is Philippa, and you already know Alex."

Katja shook her head. "No, we've never met", and she looked into Alex's eyes and smiled. Alex blushed, again, and wished he knew what was going on.

The waiter returned, placed a steaming mug of fruity herbal tea in front of Katja, and then retreated to a polite distance. Carla leaned forward, her gaze sweeping over them, taking in the mix of nervous and eager faces.

"Alright," she said, her tone shifting from host to recruiter. "There's no way to say this that doesn't sound insane, but let's be honest, the last three days have been insane for all of you. You've been given a gift. A powerful, terrifying, and currently uncontrollable gift."

She let that sink in. "My organisation can teach you to control it. We're inviting you to spend two weeks at our estate, Shadowbrook House. No strings, no cost. Think of it as an opportunity to evaluate us. It's the Easter break, so the timing is convenient, and you can walk away at any time."

Alex was sensible enough to be sceptical, although it did sound rather exciting. "I know this sounds a bit overwhelming," Carla said with a wry, knowing smile. "Mysterious invitation, vague promises of power... I get it. So, consider this a demonstration."

From her bag, she produced five small, thick pieces of card and slid one in front of each of them. On each was a simple but elegant pattern: three lines, a curve, and four stars.

"That," Carla said, her voice full of quiet confidence, "is the Stability Rune. It will quiet the noise. It will stop the burning. It will bring the world back into focus." She leaned forward, her gaze locking onto each of them in turn. "It will give you back control."

She paused, letting the promise hang in the air. "You may have noticed some… strange things happening around you. Objects moving of their own accord, a strength you didn't have before your awakening, a quickness of thought. This will settle those as well. It will make you feel like yourself again, only... more."

"Focus on the pattern," she instructed softly. "Stare at it. Clear your mind of everything else. You will need to be able to picture it in your mind, perfectly. Every detail of every curve, every shape, perfectly.  Once you have it fixed, visualise it and then imagine you are pushing energy into it."

They did as she said. For Alex, the background cacophony of London finally faded to a distant, manageable hum. As the sensory noise died, he became aware of a coiled tension in his muscles he hadn't noticed before; a latent strength that now settled, calm and ready, in his limbs. Beside him, Jessie let out a shuddering breath as the final tingling sensation on her skin cooled to a pleasant warmth. Across the table, Philippa's vision, which had been occasionally glitching between microscopic detail and dizzying distance, snapped into a perfect, controllable clarity. Willow took a deep, relaxed breath, and Katja's eyes closed, her face momentarily blissful.

"Okay, it will take you at least five minutes to truly visualise…" Carla began, her voice smooth. She trailed off mid-sentence. Her perfectly composed posture went rigid for a split second as she watched the tense, stiff expressions on their faces dissolve, one by one, into wide-eyed relief. A beat of silence stretched. "Or maybe less," she finished, her voice a fraction tighter than before. Her gaze moved from face to face, then her professional mask slid perfectly back into place, hiding her surprise. "It has been a while," she said, her tone once again smooth and reassuring, "but I do remember that feeling of relief."

"What is it?" Alex asked, his voice intrigued. "The Rune, I mean?" 

Carla smiled. "It's constructed from a star constellation. And now that you know your first Rune, you are all officially Initiate witches of Court Cygnus. I can promise you more runes at the two-week... retreat." She stood. "I'll leave you to discuss this. I'll be back in five minutes."

As Carla stepped outside, she pulled out her phone. "It seems to be going well," she said, her voice low. "No obvious problem characters. A few... quirky ones, maybe, but nothing we can't handle. I anticipate a one hundred percent sign-up."

Inside the wine bar, the five new witches stared at each other, the shared, miraculous experience a palpable thing between them. The Stability Rune was a more convincing argument than anything Carla had voiced. 

For a second, no one spoke. With all his tension finally gone, Alex was able to look at the figures seated around him without the distracting mist of noise. Each one seemed to have effortless radiance, a collection of sharp, intelligent eyes, careful stillness, and gentle smiles. He glanced down at his tatty trainers and had a sudden, plunging feeling of being out of his depth.

"I've already said I'll go," Katja announced, breaking the silence with a bright smile. "Count me in for the magical spa retreat!"

"Well, I can't see what's to lose with a two-week trial. I'm with Katja," Jessie declared. "You can call me Jess," she added, looking hopeful as she watched the others. "Even blushing Alex."

Alex, caught off guard, felt his cheeks burn. "Yes... yes I will," he mumbled, then mentally kicked himself. Smooth, Rowan. Real smooth.

When Carla returned, she didn't really need to ask. The answer was on their faces. "So?" she said, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

One by one, they answered.

"This all seems a little unreal, but Yes," said Jessie.

"Yes," said Philippa, seeming casually disinterested.

"Yes," said Alex, his voice a little breathless.

"Yes," said Willow, more nervous than the others. "I guess I'm in."

"Definitely still yes," said Katja, a wide smile on her face. "I've always wanted to see a Home County, whatever that is. And, you know, learn magic and stuff."

Carla nodded, her expression one of deep satisfaction. "Right then," she announced, clapping her hands together. "I've arranged transport. It will be here in a couple of hours to whisk you all away to the house." She paused, her eyes twinkling. "Try not to be late, hmm?"

As she stepped out into the London afternoon, Carla sent a quick message from her phone.

Initiates all onboard. They should be at the house later.

She paused, cringing slightly at the project name Arabella had insisted upon, but added it for the official record.

 Project Acquisita is proceeding and on track.

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