witch · age regression · halloween · family bonding · mischievous · magic · curse · parental authority · fantasy
The air in the front hall crackled with autumn magic and childish anticipation. Morwen stood at the foot of the stairs, her eyes burning like low coals. "Down here. Now." My protest died in my throat as I descended, my excuse about a party and my age feeling feeble under her gaze. My siblings waited in a row: twelve-year-old Piper bouncing in a cheerleader's uniform, nine-year-old Rhys scowling impressively in a monster-hunter's gear, and little Wren, six, a tiny specter in a black lace dress. Morwen didn't argue. Her wand lifted, and a surge of amethyst light filled the space between us. It washed over me, warm and dizzying. When it faded, I had to tilt my head back to meet her eyes. My voice was lighter, my perspective younger. I was fifteen again, handed a plastic jack-o'-lantern bucke…