Witch's Bell Book One

have purpose, if you have direction, you cannot be diverted off course. You have let your own story dwindle, and left the door open for another to acquire your rights to life. So we must reverse this. We must give you back what you should never have left to dwindle. Seize back your purpose, girl. Seize back your story!'
    'How, Harry?' she asked dejectedly.
    'Simple. What do you want? Answer that, believe in it with all your heart, and you will have your story back.'
    There was that question again. That same little question. It seemed everyone these past several days had been asking Ebony what she wanted. But now the question was different – sharper, more in focus. Quite possibly because the situation was now different. Ebony stood on the edge of a cliff, a sword pointing into her neck, and a tremendous plunge waiting before her. And that tended to focus things. She couldn't ignore the question any more, she couldn't ignore anything anymore. Because if she did, and she ignored the right things, and latched onto the wrong things, then these would be Ebony Bell's last actions.
    What do you want?
    What does that question even mean? Does it mean what do you desire, what do you truly wish for? Or is it an immediate thing – what do you want now? Maybe it asks you want you want in a couple of years, or what you long to achieve in your life.
    Or maybe it just asks you what you want for, what you lack? What do you want for – what do you need, above and beyond what you desire – but what you truly can't do without?
    Ebony glanced over to the Wizard's Gold on her counter. Used to transform the most dull of metals into one of the most valuable.
    What do you want for, she repeated to herself. What could she truly never do without?
    When you are lost in the forest, her father used to tell her, you look for the path that will lead you out. It wasn't a terribly useful saying, considering being lost meant you, by definition, couldn't find the exit. But there was something to it. When you were lost, you shouldn't wonder about, lost for purpose as well as direction. No, you looked for the path. You didn't spend your time and energy complaining about how lost you were, or sitting around and picking at the dirt, all dejected and lonely. No, you only looked for the path. That's what you focused on. Being lost became a side note, because all your attention was directed at the search.
    So now she was lost, but this wasn't your ordinary forest, and she wasn't looking for your ordinary path. This was a wood where between every single tree was a different track to be followed – and each and every path led to the outside.
    All you had to do was pick one.
    But you didn't have to do it capriciously. You didn't just turn on the spot and twist until you randomly ended up facing an arbitrary direction. You took just as much care as you could. It was your life, after all.
    But what path to pick through the forest of choice?
    'Are you done thinking yet?' Harry interrupted impatiently. 'Because there's no point in thinking unless it has quality.'
    'Quality?' she kept staring down at the Gold. 'Surely all thought has the same quality – insubstantial cloudy stuff between your right and left years.'
    'Same quality, are you mad? You can have deep thoughts, long thoughts, inclusive thoughts, exclusive thoughts, peripheral thoughts, happy thoughts, and grave thoughts. Why, you have a world of thoughts. But what you really want are the right thoughts.'
    'So now I have to figure out what I really want, and I have to have only right thoughts,' she sighed so deeply it felt as if she was trying to rid herself of a lifetime of tension – trying, but failing, that was. 'This is all a lot to do before the Law bounces down the door and drags me off to the stake.'
    'Oh, stop being despondent, it's frankly irritating. Really, girl, hasn't anyone ever taught you how to want, let alone think? You're a witch! Surely these are at the very base of your skill and discipline.'
    Ebony let out a tiny little laugh. 'No one ever teaches you how to think, Harry. This isn't the 20's. We don't try to formalize things like that, and it's just nonsense to believe you can.'
    'Nonsense! How ripe! Why little Ebony, I was taught from birth to death how to think and want!'
    'Oh yes,' Ebony kept staring down at the Gold. 'And who taught you? Did you apply for a course at the local college? Or did you see an advert in the paper and send away for a book of lessons?' she rolled her