11/20/2025
Witchy Wednesday had a way of pulling me farther from home than any other day of the week. Maybe it was the promise of quiet magic tucked between the trees, or the way the forest always seemed to hum with a slightly different energy on these midweek evenings. Whatever the reason, I found myself soaring high above Wraithwood Forest on my broom just as twilight slipped into blue dusk.
Below me, the world unfolded in a tapestry of shifting seasons—autumn’s embers glowing on one side of the woods, winter’s first breath already settling on the other. The broom glided effortlessly along the cool current, and I let myself drift wherever the wind wished to carry me.
That was when I noticed it.
A glow—distant, soft, steady. Not the warm amber of lanterns or the mischievous flicker of jack-o’-lanterns. This light was silvery, moon-born, lingering in the air like a beckoning whisper.
Curiosity tugged at my sleeves. I angled my broom toward it.
As I flew, something changed. The air sharpened, cold enough to sting pleasantly against my cheeks. The smell of damp leaves faded, replaced by the crystalline scent of snow. A few flakes drifted upward past me, shimmering like enchanted ash.
I felt it then—the quiet shift under my ribs, the magic that always stirred whenever borders were crossed.
I was leaving Hallowdin.
Winterdin, with all its ancient, luminous wonder, was waiting ahead.
I descended slowly, boots touching down in a blanket of pristine snow. My broom hovered loyally at my side, bristles twitching in a way that suggested both excitement and caution. The snow beneath me glowed faintly in the moonlight, not quite natural, not quite magical… but something beautifully in-between.
My footprints trailed softly behind me as I followed the silvery glow through the trees. Each step stirred tiny whirlwinds of frost around my ankles. The deeper I went, the quieter the world became, as though even the forest held its breath.
Then the trees parted, and I saw it.
A towering evergreen stood at the heart of a moonlit clearing, branches draped in lights that shimmered like captured stars. They weren’t traditional bulbs—not even Winterdin’s style of holiday magic. These lights pulsed gently, as if they were alive, their glow responding slowly to the rhythm of my breath.
Snowflakes drifted around the tree in graceful loops, but none touched its branches. Instead, the air around it shimmered with warm magic, a halo soft enough to feel but bright enough to see.
Lanterns were nestled along the snowbank, their flames steady despite the cold. They formed a quiet, glowing pathway leading straight to the tree—as though someone expected me.
I stepped closer, heartbeat echoing softly in the stillness. The warmth radiating from the tree brushed against my skin like the quiet touch of a familiar spell. When I reached out and rested my fingers on one of the branches, the magic beneath its needles stirred, humming low, a sound almost like a greeting.
A promise lived inside that glow.
A message hidden in the drifting night.
An invitation I hadn’t realized I was waiting for.
Winterdin was waking.
And somehow… it had called to me.
Image created using MidJourney, ChatGPT, and Canva
A cozy story imagined and conjured for you by The Queen of Halloween 365
Copyright © 2025 The Queen of Halloween 365. All rights reserved.
