Eventually, Ophix and Yaela finished their al, though most of the food remained untouched on certain other plates. The weight of their circumstances seed to have stolen their appetites, or maybe it was just too much to eat, but then Ophix rose from her chair and began gathering the leftover plates and empty dishes.
"Oh, help out here, child," she said to Yaela, who had been sitting in sullen silence, watching the witch’s every move with wary eyes.
Yaela sighed and stood, reluctantly helping to collect the remaining plates that Ophix couldn’t manage alone. For reasons unknown to Yaela, the witch seed determined to avoid using magic entirely, choosing instead to handle the mundane task with her own hands.
Together, they carried the dishes into an antique-style kitchen that took Yaela’s breath away despite her circumstances, and especially as she had never been in there. The space was vast and opulent, featuring rich, dark wood cabinetry adorned with intricate carved details and decorative moldings that spoke of centuries-old craftsmanship.
At the center stood a large kitchen island, its ornate carved elents supporting a polished granite countertop that glead in the ambient light, and above the island, a magnificent crystal chandelier cast elegant light throughout the space, its faceted crystals catching and reflecting the warm glow.
They approached the sink, setting down the plates with carefully. As the last dish clinked against the marble, sothing seed to click in Ophix’s mind, and her eyes widened with sudden recognition. "Yes, I finally got it now," she said, her voice carrying the excitent of soone who had just solved a puzzle that had been nagging at her for hours.
Yaela looked up, startled by the sudden change in the witch’s deanor. "Got what?"
"Was your father a William Clint?" Ophix asked, turning to face her with intense curiosity.
"No, Wilbury," Yaela answered, her face scrunching in confusion. Where the hell had William co from?
"Hm..." Ophix began, her brow furrowing as she processed this information. "I knew of a William, a forr History and Arts Professor at Princeton University."
Yaela’s expression remained blank, unimpressed by what seed like a random connection. "Well, I didn’t get to know either of my parents much, but I was told my dad was a police officer before his passing." The dots weren’t connecting, and Yaela could feel her patience wearing thin. This felt like grasping at straws.
"How did he die?" Ophix pressed, her voice carrying a note of urgency that made Yaela look up sharply.
"A car accident," Yaela replied flatly. "Both my parents died that day."
Ophix’s response was imdiate and startling. "One day the Professor didn’t co to class, and it stretched on for several more days. Then I noticed soone else had started teaching, so when I asked around, I was told William died in a car accident."
"Huh?" Yaela’s face twisted in confusion before she quickly shook her head. "That was probably just a coincidence." She pushed herself away from the counter, her body language suggesting she was ready to leave the kitchen and this uncomfortable conversation behind.
But Ophix wasn’t finished. "Did you and your brother always live in Detroit?" she asked, genuine curiosity driving her forward as she sensed she was approaching sothing significant.
Yaela turned back to face her, sothing flickering in her eyes. "No, it’s been maybe a year and a half since we moved from New Jersey—" The words died on her lips as realization struck her. Her eyes widened, and for a mont, she looked like she might stumble backward.
Ophix noticed the recognition dawning on Yaela’s face and decided to let her work through it, a slight chuckle escaping her lips as she watched the pieces fall into place.
"Princeton is in New Jersey, right?" Yaela asked, though she already knew the answer. As a university student herself, she was well aware of the prestigious Princeton University—one of the top institutions not just in the country, but in the world.
Ophix nodded with a knowing smile, clearly pleased that the connection was becoming more apparent. But Yaela wasn’t ready to accept it so easily. "It could still be a big coincidence," she said, though her voice lacked its earlier conviction. "There are things that don’t add up. You say you knew a William, but my dad was Wilbury, and he wasn’t a professor."
"What do you rember about your father’s death?" Ophix asked. "Do you know when it happened?"
Yaela shook her head. "No, I was still a baby. Only Liam might know." She paused, then added with a mixture of sarcasm and desperate hope, "And I’m guessing you’re not going to just stop by the house, ask him so questions to confirm, and then return as a souvenir?"
Ophix chuckled softly, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at the girl’s sharp tongue. Instead of addressing the sarcastic comnt directly, she dropped another revelation. "The William Clint I knew was a witch. The spells he’d regularly use to make his students attentive weren’t exactly the most subtle."
"How did you know all of this?" Yaela asked, her frustration evident. "What were you to him, or what were you doing at Princeton at the ti?"
A smile played at the corners of Ophix’s mouth. "You know, when you have a really long life, you just tend to want to try different new things. For a little while, I was a student at Princeton. Wasn’t a History and Arts major though—I know too much of that already, but it was nice to know there was another witch in the building." She shrugged with genuine amusent.
"You’re a really strange woman," Yaela said, though she had to admit that the connections were starting to feel like more than re coincidence.
Ophix seed to sense her shift in thinking. "You know what? Maybe we’ll get into the family history chat later, but I’ve just got an idea."
"Does this involve going ho now?" Yaela asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Ophix shook her head, and a gleeful grin spread across her face. "No, much better. I’m going to teach you magic." The idea of Yaela as her newest experint brought visible delight to the witch’s face.
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