#mabsdrawlloweenclub2025 – Day 18: Spellbook

Evening in the hollow woods, where the pines whisper in two tones – half lullaby, half warning. The moon tonight wears its calmest face, the kind that makes you think of silver ink and midnight margins. Out among the trees, something is reading.

A figure in green, faceless and quiet, holds open a tome that hums softly in a language older than moth wings. The pages don’t quite turn – more like they breathe, each sigil exhaling a faint lavender light. It smells faintly of ozone and candle wax, the way old magic always does.

There’s a circle on the ground, drawn not in chalk but in patience, etched by someone who still believes in doorways. Symbols spiral inward, neat as a clock’s gears, glowing brighter as the spellbook’s words rise to meet them.

If you listen (and the woods are good at listening), you can almost hear the question whispered from ink to flame to air: *What is remembered, and what is invented?*

Sometimes, maybe, they’re the same thing.

#mabsdrawlloweenclub #spellbook #digitalmarkers #mdc25d18 #roanokeva