In which a spellbook is mischievous

Jezebel held her prize in reverence, her hand sliding down its binding, around the intricate carvings on the front of the book. She savored the feel of it in her hand.

Then, with deep respect she opened the book to the first page. “What? Where is the spell?” She hurriedly flipped through the book. Page after page after page was empty. She panicked. “Oh, not now. Not now when we are so close!” Tears began to form in her eyes. Her hopes and dreams were riding on a book full of empty pages. Oh, how let-down she felt.

As tears streamed down her cheeks, she turned a few more pages, but nothing appeared. She was about to throw the book down when she arrived at the very middle of the book. This page was different! There, in beautiful handwriting, was just what she had wanted. The spell.

She read through it silently, and then, taking a look at the dragon, she laughed, wholeheartedly, loudly, excitedly. A new adventure was about to begin.

In which a spellbook is mischievous

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