"A skilled magician can create almost anything," the octopus, who tells me that his name is Bippi, says the next night. "The only limit is your imagination. But," Bippi adds as my eyes light up, "there is one rule you must always follow."

"What is that?"

"You may create, but never destroy."

I stare at the octopus in horror. "But you've been telling me to light and extinguish that flame for two days!" I look at my fingers as if expecting them to vanish or explode.

There are two flaps where a person's ears would be on the octopus's head. These flutter in and out like singular nostrils. "You are not destroying the flame," Bippi says calmly. "You are not willing it out of existence. You are merely doing with magic what normal humans do with their breath or fingers. But if you were to command the flame to cease to exist ... well, that would be dangerous. Deadly in some circumstances. Everything exists for a reason, Sina; to snuff it out of this world goes against the very fabric of nature."

Slowly, I nod, trying to absorb this important piece of information.

The octopus turns and begins to crawl back up the wall to the window sill. I lurch forward, arm outstretched. "Wait! Where are you going?" We have only been working for less than an hour.

"Outside. Follow me."

Nervously, I glance at my bedroom door. Up to this point, I've been disobeying Papa by staying up late, but I've never ventured outside of the house after dark.

"Are you coming?" Bippi asks, glancing back at me.

Bippi is an emissary of the Grey God, I reason. I should be safe, right? Swallowing my reservations, I tie my heavy hair back with a thin leather thong and leave the room.

It's a short drop from the window to the ground. I land softly in a patch of beach grass, the thin blades tickling my feet and calves. It grows in thick clusters around this side of the house and spreads outwards towards the west, where the dunes rise. I've often taken a small wheelbarrow to the dunes to collect the grasses for Papa to burn in the stove or to mix into mud to fix the house.

Smoothing my nightgown, I squint in the dark, searching for Bippi's shiny black body.

"This way," I hear and notice him crawling down a slight slope towards the sea.

Picking up the hem of my nightgown, I rush to catch up as the moon hovers large and full over the beach.

"Where are we going?" I ask, panting.

"Not far." The octopus has a strange way of moving while on land. He doesn't drag himself across the beach, but rather Bippi employs a curious method of locomotion utilizing his tentacles to roll over the sand. "Now that I know you have a talent for magic, we're going to find out what kind of witch you are."

"Kind?" I gasp as we come to a halt atop one of the dunes. The beach grass is thick and gently moves in the night breeze that rolls off the sea. "Aren't they all the same?"

"Yes and no." Bippi finds a rock and climbs atop it, folding two tentacles together. "Most witches display an affinity for one element or another. Hedgewitches, for example, are closely tied to the earth and thus make excellent healers or midwives. A powerful weather witch can seek out underground reservoirs or even manipulate the sky to bring rain."

My eyes widen. There is so much more to magic than I initially expected!

"Now, please take a seat," Bippi says, gesturing to a small patch of open sand by the rock. I eagerly obey, sitting cross-legged before the black cephalopod can tell me to do so.

"Close your eyes."

I do, wriggling slightly with anticipation.

"Open your senses. Feel the earth supporting you from below; listen to the wind blowing through the grass; taste the salt from the sea on your tongue."

I open one eye. "And fire?"

A small, squat candle suddenly flares to life on the rock. I start. Where did that come from? Red-orange flames flicker in the octopus's blue eyes.

"Smell the heat from the fire," he continues. "Close your eyes."

"Oh!" I exclaim, blushing. I quickly close my eyes and turn back to face the sea, hands clutched together in my lap.

"Focus on each element individually; listen to what they are saying to you. If one calls louder than the rest, then we have our answer."

Biting my lip, I nod. Doing as the octopus instructs, I first focus on the ground. The sand is cool, but not cold, retaining a modicum of heat from the day's sun. On my left is the rock, solid and immovable. A quiet power hums beneath the surface, calm and healing. It's a lovely sensation, but it just doesn't feel right.

The small flame jumps as I turn my attention toward it. Almost immediately, I'm overwhelmed by intense heat; a sense of playfulness wars with a simmering tendril of rage below the surface. I can create and I can destroy, the fire promises.

Groaning, I rip my attention away from the candle. The flames curl onto the wick, sulking.

The wind is soft and ephemeral, but that's all I feel. Finally, I turn towards the ocean. I drink in the lapping of the waves against the sand, taste the salt on my tongue, smell the deep, comforting scent of brine in the air, and feel the push and pull of the tide in my soul.

I sink deeper, sensing the beating heart of the ocean echoing in the hundreds of thousands of creatures that call its waters home: The deep, soulful song of whales; the frantic energy of tiny silverfish being chased by a shark; the profound patience of coral ... Life and death circle each other in an eternal, primordial dance.

With a gasp, my eyes snap open. Across the beach, the ocean's surface is covered by a gentle blue glow that ripples and shimmers as the waves break across the sand. My eyes widen in shock and I furiously blink the vision away.

Spinning around, I confront the octopus. "What was that?" I demand, pressing a hand to my beating heart. So strange ... yet, so wonderful.

The creature's brow crinkles in amusement. "Sea witch. As was expected."

Sea witch?

Slowly, I turn to face the ocean. "Sea witch," I say again, then once more, a slow smile spreading across my face.

I like the sound of it.