The village would never be the same. That seemed certain. But Ombric’s first lesson to anyone who lived in Santoff Claussen was simple: There’s a little bit of wizard in everyone. That magic’s real power was in belief. That every spell began, “I believe. I believe. I believe.” Old William picked up the two halves of Ombric’s staff and fit them back together precisely along the break. He looked at Katherine intently.
She instantly understood. “Ombric’s first lesson,” she whispered. She ran her fingers along the break, smoothing the splinters down into the staff. “I believe. I believe. I believe,” she said. The deafening howl of the grief from the villagers did not abate. But through the tumult, that first lesson came back to everyone. Old William, then others, began to repeat the words. “I believe. I believe. I believe.” Over and over. And, powered by belief, the broken staff was made whole again.
The atmosphere began to lighten in waves. The wind slowly stilled. The air became as quiet as a midnight snow. Time itself seemed to stop. The villagers could feel magic all around them. And when they opened their eyes, there stood Ombric, looking so very Ombric-like! As if nothing had happened at all. And behind him stood the bear! His wounds were gone—vanished!—but his fur was now as white as a cloud. And in his giant front paws he held the man like a sleeping child. Ombric took the staff that Katherine, beaming brighter than even the sunlight, held up to him.
