Rules Are Meant to Be Broken
Callie traced her finger along the rim of her crystal ball, watching the swirls of purple mist dance inside the glass. She was curled up on her bed in her pajamas, her bare feet tucked beneath her, and her bedroom felt suffocating tonight—too small, too quiet, too boring. The posters on her walls (half boy bands, half arcane symbols) seemed to mock her restlessness.
Being a teenage witch sucked when you weren't allowed to actually do anything magical.
The Arcane Council had about a million rules, but the big ones were simple: no unsupervised spellcasting until you turned twenty, and absolutely, positively, under-no-circumstances-ever use magic in front of non-magical humans. Her mom had drilled those into her head since she was old enough to accidentally levitate her juice box.
But rules were made to be bent, right? Just a little?
Callie glanced at her closed bedroom door, listening for her parents downstairs. The TV murmured—some cooking show her dad was obsessed with. She had at least an hour before her mom came up to check on her.
"Screw it," she muttered.
She pressed both palms against the crystal ball and whispered the summoning incantation, feeling the familiar tingle of magic rushing through her fingertips. The mist inside the ball swirled faster, coalescing into a tiny figure that popped into existence on her desk with an audible snap.
The sprite was no bigger than her hand, with translucent dragonfly wings and an expression of profound annoyance on its tiny face.
"You rang?" it drawled, examining its fingernails.
"I need you to do something for me."
"Shocking. And here I thought you summoned me for my sparkling personality."
Callie ignored the sarcasm. "There's a boy at school. Hammond Castellan. He's at the community pool right now—does laps there most evenings. I want you to go spy on him."
The sprite's eyebrows rose. "Spy on him? My, my. And what exactly are we hoping to see?"
Heat bloomed on Callie's cheeks. "Just... I don't know. I want to know what he's like when no one's watching. He's always so quiet at school, and I—" She caught herself. "Look, are you going to help me or not?"
"Oh, I'll help." The sprite's grin turned wicked. "This should be very educational."
Before Callie could respond, the sprite vanished in a shimmer of light. She leaned over the crystal ball, watching as the mist cleared to reveal the sprite's point of view. The little creature was zipping through the evening air, streetlights blurring past as it headed toward the community pool three blocks away.
Callie's heart hammered. This was stupid. This was so, so stupid. Hammond probably didn't even know she existed. Sure, they had English and History together, but they'd never actually talked. She just... noticed him. The way he kept his head down in the hallways. The way he'd smiled that one time when she'd made a joke about their teacher's terrible puns.
Two weeks ago, Hammond had gotten into a scuffle with Derek Hutchins—one of the worst bullies in school. Derek had been tormenting Marcus Chen, the awkward kid who ate lunch alone, and Hammond had stepped in to defend him. It was the kind of thing most people wouldn't do. The kind of thing that made you a target.
Hammond had a quiet strength about him. A kindness that made Callie's stomach do weird flips whenever she thought about it too long.
The sprite reached the pool, and Callie's breath caught.
Hammond was just climbing out of the water, his dark hair plastered to his head, droplets running down his shoulders and chest. He reached for a towel on a nearby bench and began drying off, completely alone in the deserted pool area. The overhead lights cast everything in a warm, golden glow.
Callie felt her face burning. "Wow," she whispered.
"Enjoying the view?" the sprite's voice echoed in her mind, smug and knowing.
"Shut up," she hissed, but she couldn't look away. Hammond had the lean, athletic build of a swimmer, and the way he moved—confident but not cocky—made something flutter in her chest.
Then the sprite's perspective shifted, panning away from Hammond.
"Wait, what are you—" Callie started, but then she saw them: Three figures lurking in the shadows near the pool house, partially hidden behind a row of lockers. Even in the dim light, she recognized them: Derek Hutchins, Tyler Morrison, and Jake Brennan. The three worst bullies in their junior class, and they were watching Hammond with predatory focus.
Callie's blood ran cold.
Derek was the one Hammond had fought with. The one who'd been humiliated in front of half the cafeteria when Hammond had shoved him away from Marcus. Derek's face had been purple with rage that day, and he'd shouted threats as teachers pulled them apart.
This is going to get you expelled, Castellan! You're dead!
"Oh no," Callie breathed. "No, no, no."
Hammond had no idea they were there. He was toweling his hair, completely vulnerable, in a deserted pool with three guys who wanted revenge.
The sprite zipped closer to the bullies, and Callie heard Derek's whispered voice through the magical connection: "Wait until he's by the edge. Then we rush him. Three on one—he won't know what hit him."
Panic seized Callie's chest. She had to do something. She had to—
But what? Call the police? By the time they arrived, Hammond could be seriously hurt. Text someone? She didn't even have Hammond's number, and even if she did, what would she say? Hey, I was magically spying on you and there are bullies about to attack?
There was only one option.
Callie shot to her feet, her chair clattering backward. Her hands were already moving through the gestures for a flight spell before her brain caught up with what she was doing.
This is insane. You'll be breaking every rule. If the Council finds out—
Her hands trembled as she completed the spell gestures. The thought of discovery made her stomach clench—the Council didn't just punish rule-breakers. They made examples of them. She'd heard the stories whispered in the witch community: families stripped of their magic, children separated from their parents, entire bloodlines marked as dangerous. Her mom's voice echoed in her head, sharp with fear: Magic in front of humans is forbidden, Callie. FORBIDDEN. Do you understand what that means?
She understood. The consequences could destroy everything.
But the image of Hammond, alone and outnumbered, drowned out every warning. She thought of her mother's face if something happened to him because Callie had been too afraid to act. She thought of living with that guilt.
She didn't care about the rules. Not anymore.
The spell ignited around her like invisible fire, lifting her off her feet. Her window was already open—thank god for the late September heat—and she shot through it like a rocket, the night air whipping her hair back.
Flying was incredible. Flying was freedom. The neighborhood blurred beneath her as she zoomed over rooftops and trees, following the mental thread that connected her to the sprite. Three blocks had never felt so long. Her heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline and magic singing through her veins.
Please let me be in time. Please, please, please.
The pool came into view, and Callie's breath caught in her throat.
Hammond was fighting.
Two of the bullies—Tyler and Jake—had him cornered near the deep end. Tyler had Hammond in a headlock, his forearm pressed hard against Hammond's throat, cutting off air. Jake was throwing punches at his ribs with brutal efficiency—thud, thud, thud—each one landing with a wet smack of knuckles against skin. Hammond was fighting back hard, his fist connecting with Jake's jaw with a sharp crack, but it was two against one and they were forcing him backward, his feet slipping on the wet concrete.
And Derek—where was Derek?
Callie spotted him circling around, trying to flank Hammond from behind. But something was wrong. Derek kept swatting at the air around his head, cursing and stumbling, his movements jerky and panicked. The sprite was dive-bombing him, its tiny form darting and weaving with vicious precision, its high-pitched chittering cutting through the night. Derek's hand came up to swat at it again, and he nearly lost his balance on the pool's edge.
The sprite is helping? That was weird. Sprites were bound to follow orders, but they weren't supposed to take initiative like that. She'd have to think about that later.
Right now, she had bullies to deal with.
"HEY!" Callie shouted, still ten feet in the air and descending fast.
All four boys looked up. Tyler's grip on Hammond loosened in shock—just for a second, but it was enough.
Callie didn't give them time to process. She thrust her hand forward, and magic erupted from her fingertips in a burst of silver light so bright it made the whole pool glow. The spell crackled through the air with an electric snap, and she felt it leave her body like releasing a held breath—a rush of power that made her skin tingle.
The spell hit Tyler like an invisible rope, yanking his feet out from under him. He went down hard, the back of his head smacking against the concrete with a sickening thwack. Then he began sliding across the wet surface toward the pool as if pulled by a giant magnet, his arms flailing uselessly, his fingernails scraping against the concrete with a horrible scratching sound.
"What the—" Tyler's scream cut off as he hit the water with a massive splash, the impact sending up a spray that caught the moonlight.
Callie landed, her bare feet hitting the cold pool tiles with a shock that shot up through her legs. The magic still hummed beneath her skin, alive and hungry.
Jake had released Hammond and was staring at her with his mouth hanging open, his face pale, his chest heaving. Blood trickled from his nose where Hammond had hit him.
"You—how did you—" Jake stammered, taking a step backward.
Hammond was staring too, but his expression was different. Not fear. Something else. Something that looked almost like... recognition? His breathing was ragged, his shoulders rising and falling, his knuckles scraped raw and already swelling. But his eyes—his eyes were locked on hers with an intensity that made her stomach flip.
Then Hammond raised his own hand.
Magic—magic—erupted from his palm in a wave of blue-white energy so bright it was almost blinding. It crackled through the air with a sound like thunder, like the world splitting open. The spell slammed into Jake like a battering ram, the impact so forceful it knocked the air from his lungs in a sharp oof. He flew backward through the air, his arms windmilling, and crashed into the pool beside Tyler with an even bigger splash. Water exploded upward, drenching the surrounding concrete.
Callie's jaw dropped. The magic in her chest stuttered, faltered.
"You're—" she breathed.
"You're—" Hammond said at the same time, his voice rough and breathless.
They stared at each other, both breathing hard, both with their hands still crackling with residual magic. The silver and blue-white energy danced between them, painting the night in impossible colors. She could feel the magic radiating off him—warm and electric and alive—and it called to something deep inside her that had been lonely for so long she'd forgotten what it felt like to not be alone.
Neither of them moved. Neither of them looked away. In that suspended moment, Callie felt something shift inside her chest—the sudden, overwhelming realization that she wasn't alone. That he wasn't alone. That somewhere in this world, hidden like she was hidden, there had been him all along.
Hammond's eyes were wide, searching hers like he was seeing her for the first time. Like he was finally seeing all of her.
"Witchkind," he breathed, and the word sounded like a prayer.
Derek, finally free of the sprite, took one look at the two of them standing there glowing with power, then at his friends thrashing in the pool, and bolted. He ran for the exit like his life depended on it, not looking back.
The sprite materialized on Callie's shoulder, looking extremely pleased with itself.
"Well," it said. "This is interesting."
Callie couldn't speak. Her brain had short-circuited. Hammond was a witch. Hammond was a witch. All this time, all these months of watching him from across the classroom, of wondering what it would be like to talk to him, of assuming he was just another normal human boy—
"You're Witchkind," Hammond said, and his voice was full of wonder. A smile was spreading across his face, bright and genuine and so beautiful it made Callie's chest ache.
"So are you," she managed. "I had no idea. I thought—I mean, I've never sensed—"
"My family's really good at shielding," Hammond said quickly. He took a step toward her, then seemed to remember he was shirtless and dripping wet. He grabbed his towel, wrapping it around his shoulders, but he didn't stop smiling. "We have to be. We moved here six months ago because my dad... he kind of screwed up."
"Screwed up how?"
Hammond's expression turned rueful. "There was an apartment fire in our old city. Bad one. My dad was driving past and saw people trapped on the third floor. He didn't think—he just acted. Used magic to create a water shield, then levitated the people out through the windows." He ran a hand through his wet hair, and for a moment he looked exhausted. "Saved eight lives. But he did it in front of about fifty witnesses and a news crew."
"Oh shit," Callie breathed.
"Yeah. The Arcane Council was not happy. They managed to cover it up—memory charms, media manipulation, the whole deal—but they basically exiled us. Told my parents to relocate somewhere small and keep our heads down. So here we are." He looked away, out at the dark water of the pool. "I've been so careful. No magic, no slip-ups, no letting anyone know. It's been..." He trailed off, and when he looked back at her, his eyes were raw. "It's been like being a ghost. I sit in classes surrounded by people and I can't talk about anything that matters. I can't be myself. I can't even feel like myself most days. The magic just builds up inside me with nowhere to go, and I'm terrified that one day I'll just... explode. That I'll slip up in front of someone and ruin everything all over again."
He swallowed hard. "There was this moment last month where I almost told Derek about the fire—just to have someone to talk to about it, you know? And I caught myself mid-sentence. I've been so alone here, Callie. So completely alone. And then you just... you showed up, and you're like me, and—" His voice cracked slightly. "I didn't think I'd ever find someone who understood."
Callie's heart twisted. "I know what you mean. I'm not even supposed to use magic at all until I'm eighteen. The Council's rules are—"
"Ridiculous?" Hammond offered.
"I was going to say 'draconian,' but yeah, ridiculous works."
They both laughed, and the tension broke. In the pool, Tyler and Jake were clinging to the edge, looking terrified and confused.
"How did you know I was in trouble?" Hammond asked.
Callie felt her face heat up again. "I, um. I might have summoned a sprite to spy on you?"
His eyebrows rose. "Spy on me?"
"I was bored!" she said defensively. "And I—okay, look, I think you're cute, alright? I've thought you were cute since the first day you transferred to our school. You sat two rows ahead of me in English and you laughed at Mr. Peterson's terrible Shakespeare puns and I just... I wanted to know more about you." The words tumbled out in a rush. "So I sent the sprite to watch you, and then I saw those assholes hiding, and I remembered what happened with Derek, and I knew they were going to hurt you, and I couldn't just—I had to—"
Hammond was staring at her with an expression she couldn't read. "You broke the Council's laws to save me."
"Well, yeah. Obviously."
"You could get in serious trouble. Your family could get in trouble."
"I know."
"You barely know me."
"I know enough," Callie said firmly. "I know you stood up for Marcus when no one else would. I know you're kind and brave and—" She caught herself, suddenly self-conscious. "And I couldn't let them hurt you."
Hammond's smile returned, softer this time. "I thought you were cute too," he said quietly. "From the moment I first saw you. You were arguing with Mr. Peterson about whether Hamlet was actually insane or just pretending, and you were so passionate about it, and I remember thinking, 'I want to know her.'" He laughed. "But I never would have guessed you were Witchkind. You hide it really well."
"So do you."
They stood there grinning at each other like idiots, and Callie felt like her heart might actually burst.
"I should shower and get dressed," Hammond said finally, glancing down at himself. "And then—would you want to come to my house? Meet my parents? They're going to freak out when they hear about this, but in a good way. They've been worried about me being isolated from other magical people."
"I'd love that," Callie said, and meant it with every fiber of her being.
Hammond headed toward the dressing rooms, still smiling. Callie watched him go, feeling like she was floating even though her feet were firmly on the ground.
Then she remembered the bullies.
She turned to face the pool. Tyler and Jake were still clinging to the edge, their eyes wide with fear. Callie raised her hand, and the water responded to her will. A wave rose up, sweeping across the pool's surface, driving the two boys toward the far end. They yelped and scrambled, trying to swim against the current.
"Get your soggy butts out of my sight," Callie called out, her voice hard. "And if you ever come near Hammond again—if you even look at him wrong—I will show you what real power looks like. Understand?"
They nodded frantically, hauling themselves out of the pool and running for the exit, leaving wet footprints and their dignity behind.
The sprite reappeared, perching on the diving board. It regarded Callie with an expression that was almost... knowing.
"You know," it said, wings shimmering with something that looked suspiciously like satisfaction, "I've been watching that boy for a very long time. And I had a feeling—just a feeling—that tonight was the night everything would change. That he needed someone to see him. Really see him."
It tilted its head, and for a moment its eyes seemed far older than a sprite's should be.
"Turns out I was right."
Callie opened her mouth to ask what it meant, but the sprite was already dissolving into sparkles as it returned to the Fae Realm, leaving her with nothing but questions.
Weird. But then again, sprites were always cryptic. It was kind of their thing.
Hammond emerged from the dressing room five minutes later, dressed in jeans and a hoodie, his hair still damp but combed back. He looked nervous and excited and hopeful all at once.
"Ready?" he asked, offering his hand.
Callie took it, feeling the warmth of his palm against hers, the slight tingle of his magic recognizing hers.
"Ready," she said.
They walked out of the pool area together, hand in hand, leaving the scene of chaos behind them. Above them, the stars were coming out, and the night felt full of possibility.
Callie had broken about a dozen rules tonight. She'd probably face consequences. The Arcane Council might get involved. Her parents were definitely going to ground her for a month.
But as Hammond squeezed her hand and smiled at her—really smiled, like she was the best thing he'd seen all day—Callie decided it was absolutely, completely, one hundred percent worth it.
Some rules were made to be broken.
Especially when breaking them led you to exactly where you were supposed to be.
---
If you enjoyed this story, you can read more about the Witchkind in Terror Tales, a short story anthology from NUELOW Games.
