Clash of Holidays: An Account of Magic VS Thievery

      A green clawed hand waved away the pink Acara’s image from the bubbly surface of a cauldron. “Neopia News One! Bah!” Reflected back at the speaker in its mirrored centre was the bitter face of Edna — one of Neopia’s most feared witches. Her mouth was twisted as if she tasted something sour. And perhaps she did. It was the taste of their foolishness. Because how dare they alert the public of a minor mishap!

     “E–Edna?” Tap tap. “Edn—“

     Edna quickly turned, the hem of her black robes brushing the floor. “It’s Sorceress to you, we’ve been over this, Humphrey!” A yellow Grundo trembled from where he stood on the spiral staircase that led up to Edna’s study. She observed him over her bubbling cauldron with amusement. “Well, do say, what is it? Don’t disturb me during my witching hours if you have nothing to report!”

     He continued to shake. “Yes, Edna—”

     An invisible force suddenly smacked into the Grundo, throwing him into the air and back against the tower wall with a resounding thud.

     “SORCERESS!”

     “Sorceress,” huffed Humphrey from the floor.

     Edna had moved to a bookcase off to the side in disinterest of his well-being as he got to his feet, and with a clawed finger brushed each book spine. She sighed. “Now what is it?”

     “It’s Neopia News One — they were able to reach all of Neopia with Fyora’s broadcast spell!” Humphrey’s voice shook as he feared being tossed like a discarded plushie again.

     Seemingly calm as she looked over the book titles for a particular title, the poor Grundo moved back towards the staircase. “I know.”

     “But— “

     “No ‘but’s, Humphrey — and do be a dear and come here.”

     He hesitated.

     “Humphrey,” warned Edna.

     Shuffling his large feet over the cold cobblestones, he reluctantly obeyed. She was mumbling something under her breath when he reached her, still running a finger over the books. Was it another spell? He didn’t want to know what Edna — Sorceress! — was going to ask of him this time. But rather than casting another offensive spell, or even asking for another favour, however, Humphrey was relieved to find that Edna was too busy reading off the titles as she touched each one with total concentration instead.

     “1002 Spells For You . . . Book of Sea Spells . . . Evil Spells . . . Mage Spells . . . Modern Spells . . .”

     Humphrey moved closer to examine the titles over her shoulder – and was sadly reminded of his small height. “S—Sorceress?”

     “Not now!”

     She paused on the golden binding of Kayla’s Spellbook in amusement before removing a familiar book next to it – the most forbidden of them all.

     Lost Spells of Neopia.

      Humphrey could still remember in vivid detail the day that Edna made good on her promise to keep his family safe and well-fed — including their gardens — for a price.

     It was on the 24th Day of Giving when he finally concluded what to buy for his little sister. He had already finished putting together their parents' gift baskets — beauty items for Mom, lucky fishing items for Dad — when it came to him. She had been dancing and singing to Usuki Singing Stars songs all week on repeat — even before bed! Humphrey visited Usukiland that same afternoon only to find himself low on Neopoints. Desperately wanting the newest Usuki Singing Star dolls for his little sister, he travelled long and far to the Haunted Woods.

     Stories were spreading all over Neopia about a witch that lived in a tower there who was said to reward greatly for her services if you could obtain three ingredients – with a catch. If he didn’t gather all three ingredients for Edna’s spell within an allotted time frame, then she would take all of their vegetables and replace them with weeds.

     Only a few minutes remained after he managed to obtain the first two after much searching. The Shop Wizard’s directory glitched while he was still using it, freezing the screen. He had in the end failed to gather the final ingredient – Wraith Fur – and returned empty-handed to Witch's Tower with dread. She made him watch that same day as their family’s garden bed wilted and withered. . . .

      Edna was presently waving clawed hands over her bubbling cauldron, steam drifting upward in green puffs. He was standing opposite of her as she had asked him, to aid with preparations when he was met with an unpleasant whiff of its substance. It smelled like rotten neggs. Yuck.

     “The elixir is almost finished,” she cackled.

     She gave a final wave over the cauldron and said an incantation that sounded like one of Rorru’s daily haikus. Then he stepped back while Edna completed the potion, to avoid it splashing him as she ladled some of the green liquid into a clear beaker.

     “Now,” she reprimanded. “Drink all of it this time for Fyora’s sake!”

     Edna watched him with a grin as wicked as Jhudora’s dark magic when he finally accepted the beaker from her and apprehensively drank of the potion, even as he set it back down and moved to return home as she had instructed him to do.

     She watched his retreating back until he disappeared from her study.

      Humphrey returned to Witch’s Tower the next day, struggling with his newly gained humpback thanks to the Mutant morphing potion. “Sorceress! Sorceress!”

     “Don’t disturb me during my—”

     “Snow!” cried Humphrey, revealing his Mutant smile. “It’s snowing! All over Neopia!”

     Edna seethed. “IT COULDN’T BE!”

     She quickly spelled her cauldron to see the outside world on its surface like a crystal ball gazer, and sure enough . . . it was snowing!

     “It couldn’t be!” And then with more fury than a disappointed Grumpy King, Edna remembered. She began to quickly wave and chant spelled haikus over her cauldron with abandon. “THE BETA GLITCH! Oh, for the sake of Fyora!”

     Humphrey’s smile faltered.

     “I’ll put an end to all of this – this Giving,” she shrieked. “Let today — and every day — be known here on out as Halloween!”

      Edna could feel the Mutant staring at her back as she stirred with a ladle. There was no time at the moment to worry about what he might be thinking or planning; it was more important she keep an eye on her steaming cauldron instead to avoid unintentional mishaps.

     “Humphrey,” she sang with false sweetness.

     He hobbled to her side. “Yes, Sorceress?”

     “Bring me the tray — and those vials over there on that shelf,” she added. “We need to start filling them before the drink cools.”

     She shook her head when he returned with a tray and lots of clear vials. “We’ll need more.” She paused to think. “Oh! There are hundreds more on the bottom floor right behind the hidden room.”

     Edna used his absence to flip through Lost Spells of Neopia and bewitch the potion to appear like borovan hot chocolate. The results were immediate much to her glee. Its bubbly surface smoothed over first, then the gooey substance shifted in colour from slime green to an inviting warm milk chocolate. Mini marshmallows popped to the top for a final touch. Her smile was slow and wicked as she gazed into it, closing the old book with puffs of dust rising from its yellowed pages.

     It wouldn’t be long now.

      Meanwhile, in another unusually snowy town far, far from Witch’s Tower . . .

     “Higher! Lower! No — arrgh! Not that low!” cried a frustrated blue Skeith from the ground. “Do I have to do everything myself?”

     It was only the Month of Awakening, yet two clumsy Raindorfs were presently holding a large banner that exclaimed Merry Skarlmas! in bright red and green letters against a blue backdrop. This was no easy task for such silly-behaving pets, both who seemed unable to straighten the banner themselves. But below on ground level directing them in his Instant Santa Suit stood King Skarl, the sneakiest of the sneaky.

     He gestured and shouted instruction at the two Raindorfs with great impatience. “I said higher! Higher!”

     It was unfortunate he had chosen these two for the job, as they visibly shook with fear of all his yelling. They couldn’t get it into the proper position, for this reason, so Skarl’s declaration appeared crooked; furthermore, it was given the impression of needing a lift on one side.

     Skarl had to keep reminding himself that he got the idea of declaring this day as his own to the public from rumours of a holiday mishap. (Arrgh! Rumours!) And that’s what they had been – rumours. Then earlier that morning all of Neopia watched live on their screens as Reporter Shae with Neopia News One confirmed the whispers on the street — thanks to Fyora’s powerful magic.

     “It appears that there was a glitch in the switch to Beta and all of the Neopian holidays have been released,” Reporter Shae had said much to the delight of young pets everywhere. She was standing in front of TNT headquarters. “According to our sources, there have been mixed feelings on this. So let’s see what the public has to say.”

     “Every Neopian holiday being celebrated on the same day is a dream come true!” cried one happy Baby Aisha when interviewed.

     “Santa! Santa!” exclaimed another Baby, whose mother appeared to feel the opposite as he chased down the camera person. “PerryBerry0705 — you get back here right now!”

     Skarl had laughed when he’d watched the live broadcast as NNO’S camera person ran from the Baby Chomby with a Yooyu camera slung over their shoulder, crying “I thought you guys were extinct!”

     And he laughed now just as he had laughed then at the remembrance until . . .

     “THAT’S PERFECT!”

     His sign was finally – finally – set . . . and then the Raindorfs tumbled from their ladders at his overly jubilant exclamation, swinging from the banner by their teeth to save themselves from a nasty fall.

     He sighed in defeat.

     “Could we get some borovan hot chocolate over here?”

      “Borovan hot chocolate! Get your borovan hot chocolate here!”

     Skarl’s toothy frown deepened into a snarl as he watched from his workshop roof below at the Christmas Ixi passing around cups of steaming cocoa. She was carrying a tray of holiday mugs filled to their brims with the sweetened drink. This felt unfair to Skarl; he loved borovan hot chocolate as much as the next pet, too. But here he was on top of the rooftop instead of celebrating down below, a wealthy, famous king, hammering his own banner into place because a pair of young Raindorfs were incapable of a task so simple that even a Tyrannian Kacheek could do it. And were those mini marshmallows? Arrgh! He loved mini marshmallows!

     In the name of all that is Illusen and Jhudora, he thought, just one sip. . . .

     A pain unlike any other suddenly ran through his hand and all the way up his arm. He yowled fiercely with rage. His attention had wandered too far from the task at hand when the hammer slipped from his grip, smashing the fingers of his left hand in a single, quick strike. Such discomfort jolted Skarl back into reality. He held his swelling fingers with the other, curling and uncurling them to test their flexibility.

     What he wouldn’t give for one fresh cup of steaming borovan hot chocolate with the little marshmallows to cure him of his discomfort right about now. . . . Just one. It was all he wanted. It was all he needed. But in that moment, what he needed more was to find a way off of the roof.

     Would his bad luck never end?

     Glancing around for the ladder, he found instead the rubbish used to properly align and raise his banner lying around in haphazard piles. He scratched his head. What did someone of lesser status do with them after? He considered discarding everything instead of worrying himself over it. Taking hold of the offending hammer, the grumpy royal more than happily tossed it over his shoulder when from somewhere below a pet cried out their defiance to his simple disregard for others on the ground.

     “Raaawr!”

     Skarl reluctantly made his way over the remaining rubbish to the roof’s edge and looked over with great irritation at the commotion below — because who dared to speak against a king as kingly as King Skarl — when the green light flew past his head. It had been unexpected and unwarranted. But still, he continued to look on and that was when he saw them.

     They were everywhere.

     Pets of all species and ages were battling with each other as if they were in the Battledome. He watched on helplessly. Night had fallen by this point, but he could still see that a few pets armed themselves with weapons stolen from only the Money Tree ghosts knew where. But there were the other pets, too, those who preferred wands and those who preferred magical spellbooks. They acted in unison to attack the unarmed ones.

     “In the name of King Skarl—” He dodged an incoming spell. "—stop fighting!”

     No one so much as glanced up at their king.

     “What has come over you? Not even King—” He ducked behind the chimney as another green light flew toward him. ”—Skarl attacks without reason!”

     “Raaawr!”

     Should I not have said that? Skarl thought with panic.

     He had no time to think of an escape plan — not that they were going to offer him one anytime soon. He didn’t even have time to duck. Before he could dodge or say anything else the next spell was already flying through the air in his direction like a Yooyu ball on fire. It successfully struck its target: his Instant Santa Suit. He put out the flame quickly but it was too late; the damage was already done.

     Someone had burned most of the white fluffy cotton bits like overcooked meat.

     “THIS IS A RENTAL!”

     Skarl made to hide behind the chimney from any further attacks when he realized that they didn’t care his suit was a (very expensive) rental, and instead busied himself with keeping the magical fire from reigniting as he wracked his brain for a plan — any plan when he heard it from somewhere in the battle raging below.

     The laughter.

      No one noticed the most famous witch in their midst — the witch who stood within darkness. It cloaked her like the robes she so often favoured (and was never without) — and she wore them well. She straightened her spine to appear taller despite her short height, to allow the lights of the Rainbow Pool at her back to project her shadow over the large crowd of battling pets. And it was precisely because the outline of her pointy hat (of which she was also never without) stood even taller than she, it created the illusion of even greater height much to her delight.

     Illusion . . .

     Edna’s brows furrowed in thought of the bothersome Earth faerie — that would have to be saved for another day.

     She turned her thoughts outward once more at the challenge ahead. She enjoyed making people afraid. And better yet, if had they spared a moment to glance behind them at the darkness of the shops, then perhaps they would have been afraid. But instead of becoming agitated at her anonymity, she used the moment to gaze upon the battle. She lifted her chin even higher with pride. What had been a shopping centre just moments ago now looked like the Battledome arena — thanks to her doing. She swivelled her head left and right at the chaos unfolding all around. And yet, no one looked as if they were suspicious of it.

     But if these pets didn’t fear her now, then they would soon enough. . . .

     And what better time to start than now? Edna reached into the pockets of her old, beloved robes and pulled from them an old book, its red cover the same fiery shade as a fire faerie’s magic. Lost Spells of Neopia. She flipped through its ancient pages for a moment, each turn emitting a soft crinkle of aged paper. And there, near the back behind its questionable glossary of terms (“Such strange language!” had been Edna’s exclamation upon discovery), was the spell she so sought. It was written in a lyrical rhyme much to her . . . elation.

     (Edna’s disgust for poetry was deeper than the slopes of Terror Mountain.)

     It was despite her feelings toward poetry that she crinkled her nose anyway and, with her signature cackle, lifted a hand high, guiding it in graceful, complex arcs as she read from her spell book the following incantation:

     Bubbling brew of mine,

     Of wilted root and magic goop;

     Of star shine and moonlight,

     Elixir within — Mutants, rise!

      Skarl panted as his boots finally hit the wooden floor with a thump after what felt like a millennium. It had taken him a while, but he’d managed to do it. It hadn’t been easy by any means. To shimmy down a chimney. And during his descent all he could think about, was all of that soot. . . .

     But with a herd of tyrannical pets battling for who knew what inconceivable reason outside his front door at that moment, he wasted no more time as he put to motion his shaky plan . . .

     . . . and stopped.

     Glancing behind himself at the floor, his face contorted into horror at the soot prints that accompanied his every step. “I knew that I should have invested in that Instant Stain-free Floor!” But too late now, he inwardly added.

     He forced his thoughts elsewhere onto the plan instead with a sigh, moving for the front door with all the renewed determination he could muster. His footsteps left behind more soot prints. Chimney soot even coated his suit and all that he touched as he walked. It hadn’t been easy to shimmy down that chimney, he’d thought again as he went. But what else could I have done?

     The anguished Skeith took to shaking the soot from himself for distraction, tugging at the cuffs of his Instant Santa Suit. Then somberly he looked down at his suit again with a flurry of thoughts. I can’t return this now! It’s all over the place. And, besides — he tearfully patted the smoking bits of charred cotton — that Tyrannian ruined it. It was specially tailored for me by those Garage Sale Chias.

     He had taken two steps when his subconscious prodded at him once more. Borovan hot chocolate will fix everything, it said. He paused with longing. But before more similar thoughts at the back of his mind could come forth, he opened the door and finally stepped over the threshold to join the chaos.

      With Skarl and Edna off competing on different sides of the same doubloon, it is somewhere in an alley of Neopia Central that two pets make a pact under the light of the Neopian moon. . . .

      “Why isn’t it working?!” screeched Edna from her perch atop the Rainbow Pool. Its smooth arch felt slick underneath her feet, but a simple spell kept her from slipping. “I bet that Grundo has something to do with this,” she grumbled. “HUMPHREY — WHERE ARE YOU?!”

     Humphrey did not answer. . . .

      Skarl felt as defeated as he looked while emerging from the chimney of his workshop. “Never again,” he panted, slinging an empty Santa bag over and climbing after it.

     “But it was worth the effort — at what cost?”

      A pointy-eared shadow more impressive than Edna’s temper appeared from the cloaked darkness of Neopia Central like a Money Tree ghost. (No one to this day knows from where it came, but that it had come on broom.) It took to flying over the heads of the battling pets, leaving behind a purple dusting that sparkled as it rained down to settle on their shoulders, leaving them dazed. . . .

      Edna felt the bleakness of its shadow before she saw it pass over her head — then escaped with urgency back to her tower in a sparkling cloud of green.

      Skarl felt swollen with pride — or was that the hot chocolate? — as he watched the mystery shadow work magic on the scene below before flying high over the moon to disappear, leaving behind its own sparkling cloud of purple.

      “So, let me see if I have this right,” mused Humphrey. He had hidden away from Edna on the outskirts of the Haunted Woods within her cauldron’s blindspots after leaving her tower the fateful day she had revealed her evil plans to him. It was on his way out of the Haunted Woods when the coast was clear that he had found Skarl in search of his own help, and quickly filled him in on Edna’s plans to turn Neopia’s habitants into Mutants. “In order to save Neopia from becoming Mutant puppets for Edna’s amusement,” he continued, “you agreed to give up your thieving ways forever in exchange for Xenia’s aide. Am I right, or am I still under her spell?”

     Skarl looked bewildered that this stranger-become-friend had pieced together both their stories just from the disorganized bits and pieces alone. “Is that so hard to believe? That Santa Skarl can stop his villainous ways?”

     “Yes,” Humphrey said around a mouthful of whip cream. “Not so villainous as it is just plain wrong, though.”

     “Xenia is a prankster; and she’s the best one there is. It wasn’t easy to find her since she’s always on the move,” Skarl mused thoughtfully.

     Humphrey and Skarl fell quiet as they sipped on their borovan hot chocolate.

     Skarl was the first to break the silence. “At first, the plan had been to slip them their respective species and colour potions, but Xenia pointed out it was too time-consuming. We didn’t have much time left.

     “We needed a Plan B. So since she has a broom to fly, she insisted on sprinkling magic powder over them to counteract whatever Edna had mixed into her elixir.”

     “And since Edna is clumsy, she had forgotten the importance of proper ingredients for a spell and instead substituted for what she didn’t have,” added Humphrey, picking up where Skarl’s side of the story dropped off. “So, her spell was too weak against Xenia’s magic powder. Her test subjects were fighting because they were confused as to who was behind the magic they sensed.”

     “But she also wasn’t expecting Xenia – no one ever does!”

     “Breaking news: An anonymous report has just come in that Edna was spotted fleeing the scene of a magic-fueled battle between Halloween and Christmas. When reached for further comment, TNT said that they are working diligently with the Meepits to figure out the technical difficulties behind the Beta glitch. The Neopian holidays should be back in their respective squares on the calendar by tomorrow at 2 P.M. NST.

     “Coming to you live from HQ – I’m Reporter Shae with Neopia News One.”

      The End . . . Or is it the beginning?