The Gryphon's Nest | Wizard School Sleep Story

In this fantasy bedtime story, you head out on a magical field trip with your classmates at the school of sorcery. The professor of magical creatures has discovered a nest in the nearby mountains, where gryphon eggs are about to hatch. Paired with a body scan for sleep.

Music/Sound: A Glimpse of Avalon by Flouw, Hard Charger by Christian Anderson, Epidemic Sound

Transcript

Study mythical creatures and observe a griffin's nest in tonight's wizard school sleep story.

Sleep and Sorcery is a folklore and fantasy inspired sleep series.

My name is Laurel and I will be your guide on tonight's fantastical journey.

Sleep and Sorcery is one part bedtime story,

One part guided meditation,

And one part dreamy adventure.

If you're still awake as the story comes to a close,

I'll guide you through a soothing body scan.

In tonight's story,

You head out on a magical field trip with your classmates at the school of sorcery.

The professor of magical creatures has discovered a nest in the nearby mountains where griffin eggs are about to hatch.

You hike the highlands,

Recording your observations of rare magical flora and fauna along the way,

Then arrive at the Eerie,

Just in time to witness the griffin hatchlings.

As night falls,

Your classmates retreat to tents to sleep,

Listening to the sound of fantastical wildlife outside.

Enchantment is the oldest form of medicine.

Carl Jung A brisk morning breeze sweeps in through the open dormitory window,

Bringing a marvelous and invigorating mixture of scents with it.

Musky heather meets the aroma of fresh pastry which rises from the kitchens and the feasting hall on the ground floor of the castle.

You stuff final supplies into your backpack,

Binoculars,

Gloves,

A raincoat,

A few snacks,

And a jar of protective herbal salt which you made in your apothecary class last term.

Just in case,

It's no ordinary field trip on which you embark today,

And you do well to be prepared for any eventuality.

Everything fits comfortably thanks to your just having mastered a charm to enlarge the volume of any container without increasing its surface area.

You count yourself fortunate to have such an opportunity.

Only a handful of students were approved to spend the quiet summer term at the School of Sorcery to participate in accelerated coursework and research.

Ever since taking Professor Crowe's introductory course on magical creatures in your second year,

You've been drawn to the study of mythical beasts and cryptids.

It wasn't a subject you expected to love so much.

Sure,

Who wouldn't enjoy learning to care for unicorns,

Or searching the skies for phoenixes or firebirds?

But you once assumed it would be an easy course of study,

A place to coast on curiosity alone.

Instead,

You found that the study of magical creatures awakened you to an entirely new world.

There's an entire occult ecosystem of fauna who exist in the shadowy thresholds of the natural world.

Unseen by those who've never looked beyond the veil to the world of spirit,

These creatures bring magical,

Medicinal,

And ecological insight to a world hungry for connection.

It's a special privilege,

You realize,

To witness these creatures.

Where you,

A student of magic and sorcery,

Rely on your wand,

Your books,

And other tools for your spellwork,

Most of these beasts have such an innate relationship to magic that it moves through their existence effortlessly,

Like breath.

The unicorn has natural powers of healing,

The nixie can shapeshift,

And the siren's song rings with irresistible enchantment.

They do not do magic as a witch or a wizard does.

They are magic in their very essence.

It's this quality that drew you beyond a superficial interest in the beautiful or monstrous beings.

Your curiosity ever since has been insatiable.

So it was with decided eagerness that you scribbled your name on the sign-up sheet for this weekend's adventure and convinced your friend Sam to do the same.

Slinging your backpack over a shoulder,

You pull the dormitory window closed and head downstairs.

Sam should be waiting for you at breakfast.

It's such a comfort to be excused from wearing school uniforms and robes for a day.

This trip calls for outdoor clothing,

Hiking boots,

And light layers.

All you really know is that Professor Crow is calling me outing,

Field research hike,

Magical fauna,

And that you're headed for somewhere in the mountains that surround the castle and the glen.

It's an overnight camping trip,

Which suggests you'll travel quite far into the wilderness.

You're excited to explore the region in depth and with such a knowledgeable teacher.

As professors go,

She's been here a relatively short time,

Having transferred from a post at the Wizard School in North America.

But in the two or so years she's taught here,

She's earned a reputation as one of the most engaging and inspired instructors in the castle.

We learned it firsthand when you took our class.

Unlike other teachers who spend lesson after lesson droning on about theory before getting to the real work of spellcraft,

Potion making,

And the like,

Professor Crow started term by bringing you and your classmates out into the forest on a scavenger hunt for legendary creatures.

Certainly now in your fourth year of school,

You understand that theory is important in laying the foundations of a magical education.

But Professor Crow somehow manages to instill it without dull lectures or lengthy readings.

Under her stewardship,

You learn through exploration,

Inquiry,

And experience.

This field research hike promises to be just as enlivening.

You trot down the grand marble staircase of the medieval castle which houses your school.

The figures and the portraits that line the corridors are still snoozing soundly.

For most,

After all,

It is summer vacation.

And who would choose to be up this early on a lazy Sunday in July?

Still,

You have a spring in your step and the oncoming wafts of breakfast smells from the feasting hall draw you in with increased enjoyment.

Even in summer,

The cooks have gone all out to provide a hearty meal for the early risers.

When you enter the hall,

You see a single long table laden with delicious foods,

Pastries and sausages,

And toast and eggs,

Sunny side up and self-sizzling on enchanted plates.

Picture after picture of juices,

Teas,

And coffee.

The smell is heavenly.

You fill up a plate with your favorites,

Knowing you'll need a filling breakfast to fuel up for the journey.

Sam is seated with a few other students in hiking clothes.

You recognize most of them from classes in the regular term,

And others are in your accelerated class with Professor Crow.

There are only a dozen or so students in the feasting hall now,

Out of about twenty or thirty spending the summer here.

The rest must be enjoying a lie-in.

You move to join Sam and company.

They greet you cheerfully and make space on the bench.

They're already engaged in spirited speculation as to the subject of today's trip.

I think it's dragons,

Says Lula Vaughn,

A freckled fifth-year with a penchant for exaggeration.

Has to be.

I don't think so,

Says Sam,

Taking a bite of buttered toast.

Too dangerous.

I don't think we'd be allowed to be up close with dragons,

Do you?

Depends,

Lula responds.

Some dragons are nice,

I heard.

No,

I think it has to be that phoenix,

Chimes in Violet Lucas,

A witch from your year who's always been at the top of the class.

Didn't you hear about it?

Mr.

Lovage was caring for it until it got too big and then set it free in the mountains.

I heard about it from some of the students in alchemy class.

You have heard the rumors of a phoenix being kept in the castle.

It's an intriguing possibility.

You've never seen one up close.

But then there are a thousand magical creatures you've never seen up close.

What do you think it is?

Sam asks you.

I suppose it could be anything,

You say.

But I don't know,

I thought we'd just be making general observations over whatever things we do find in the mountains.

Pixies and little things.

You're met with a chorus of dissent.

The last time Professor Crow led a field research trip like this,

Says Violet,

The group came back saying they'd all observed a kitsune.

What's a kitsune,

You ask?

It's a kind of a spirit fox,

Violet continues.

They're really rare,

Haven't been seen in generations,

And almost never in this part of the world.

They can live a thousand years and have tons of magical properties.

Wow,

Says Sam,

I'd love to see one of those.

But what I'm saying is,

Violet goes on,

There's a precedent,

You see.

There must be something really special up in the mountains that the professor is taking us to observe.

The conversation at breakfast amplifies your anticipation.

After filling your bellies,

You and a gaggle of classmates make for the meet-up point.

The ancient stone circle on the castle grounds.

The fortress itself is something like a thousand years old,

But the stone monument predates it by centuries,

Signifying this locale's deep associations with magic and the sacred.

Approaching the stones in the light of early morning,

You can almost feel the vibrations coming off them,

Haloed by golden sun.

Professor Crow is waiting for you beside the circle.

She holds a hand over her eyes to behold your cohort's approach,

And she waves broadly with the other.

She's dressed in what you've come to recognize as her signature attire,

A flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows,

Faded jeans and hiking boots.

A thick braid of dark hair hangs over one shoulder.

To her left are eight school-issued broomsticks,

Hovering a few feet off the ground.

She greets you warmly,

Exuding a calm confidence about the weekend's prospects.

Two more students eventually join you just moments before the scheduled departure time.

There are seven students in total,

All of whom you've had some interaction with before.

Grab a broom,

Everyone,

Professor Crow says,

Gesturing to the floating broomsticks.

We're going to fly to the base of the ridge,

And then we'll continue on foot.

Anyone not comfortable taking a shortcut across the lake?

You and your classmates regard the great lake and surrounding mountains as Professor Crow indicates the peak in question.

The water sparkles,

Reflecting the emerald green of the highlands.

No one seems to object to the shortcut.

So you mount your brooms and kick off from the ground,

Following the professor's lead.

It's a beautiful morning for a ride.

If it weren't for the pack slung over your shoulder,

You'd feel weightless.

Tiny droplets of mist twinkle in your hair before evaporating in the sunlight.

You fan out over the vast and tranquil lake,

Its glossy surface a mirror of motion blur.

You have a breathtaking view of the highlands from here,

The jade blanket of forests dappled by the shadows of scudding clouds and their reflection on the glittering waters below.

The depths of the lake are unknown,

And the body of water is rumored to be home to countless mythical aquatic creatures.

You imagine kelpies,

Mermaids,

And all kinds of water sprites lingering below the surface.

You'll have to ask Professor Crow what she knows about the lake's inhabitants.

Soon you touch down on the far side of the lake at the base of the mountains.

Leaving the brooms behind,

You follow Professor Crow toward the mouth of a narrow path that disappears into the thicket of trees.

She moves with confidence,

Having charted these paths a hundred times,

You imagine.

As you hike the steep trail,

She points out the native flora of the mountainside.

The trees are mostly scots pine,

With brushy needles that stick in your hair.

That aspen graces the path too,

Its leaves a flutter like a thousand hands applauding,

And a witch elm,

And an oak.

Here and there a mountain hare darts in and out of the low-lying foliage.

The professor encourages you to observe any and everything you come across on this excursion,

Whether it is considered magical or not,

For even the so-called ordinary plants and animals carry ancient associations,

Wisdom,

And medicine.

The rowan,

For example,

Is considered a protective tree against malevolent spirits and witches.

A chuckle runs through the class at this remark,

For the rowan doesn't seem to be warding off this bunch of witches and wizards.

It's a few minutes of quiet hiking before you hear a gasp from Violet.

She then urgently whispers for everyone to gather and look at something.

You all circle round her eagerly as she points to a smudge of black through the trees.

You squint to see it better,

And you realize that it's a cat.

It looks just like a common house cat,

Really,

Except for something you can't quite pinpoint.

Its fur is black,

Save for a spot of white on its chest.

It moves slowly through the forest,

Rubbing its sides along the scratchy trunks of the trees,

Apparently ignorant or uninterested in your presence.

As it draws slowly nearer your group,

You realize what's so unusual about the thing.

Its size.

Though it resembles an ordinary cat,

It is significantly larger than any you've ever seen,

Almost the size of a Labrador.

Well done,

Violet,

Whispers the professor.

That's a good find.

Everyone,

This is what's called a cat she.

It won't harm us,

But I wouldn't get too close.

Get a good look,

And then let's move on.

I'll tell you more about it once we're a few paces down the path.

You watch for a few moments longer,

Until the unusual animal begins to lazily saunter away into the thickening trees beyond.

Then you turn with your classmates and follow Professor Crow onward.

The cat she is a fairy creature,

She says,

Holding aside a jutting branch of pine for you and the other students to pass.

And it's quite common to find them prowling the highlands if you're looking for them.

Quite harmless to most of us,

Most of the time.

But come Samhain,

You'll notice that the cooks at the school are sure to put out a saucer of milk for them.

Leaving an offering will ensure you the cat she's blessing,

But a snub will earn you their wrath.

I thought it looked a bit like Ajax,

Sam mutters to you with a smile.

This makes you laugh.

You hadn't realized it before,

But Sam's familiar,

A black cat named Ajax,

Has a similar patch of white fur on his chest.

Maybe Ajax is really a cat she,

You return.

Then I'd better start leaving him saucers of milk,

I suppose,

Sam jokes.

Though the hike is long and hard work,

The cool air and fragrance of the forest remains totally uplifting.

The camphoric scent of evergreen needles is like a salve for sore muscles.

Lula Vaughn hovers close to the professor,

Throwing out guesses as to what kind of creature you're headed to see.

But Crow remains tight-lipped.

It's better to keep it a surprise,

She says.

But keep up,

Everyone,

She adds,

Turning to the stragglers.

We want to be sure we reach it in time.

This cryptic instruction heightens the excitement of the moment.

Whatever it is you're going to see,

There must be some sort of happening associated with it.

You hurry to catch up.

You've been lingering to observe a beautiful,

Shimmering moss growing on the side of a large rock.

The moss seems to change color under your eye,

Shifting more and more rapidly the more intently you observe it.

When you find yourself shoulder to shoulder with Professor Crow on the path,

She smiles at you with indulgence.

Find something of interest,

She asks.

I think so,

You say.

Some sort of a color-changing moss.

Ah,

She says knowingly.

What would you think if I told you that moss isn't a plant,

But an animal?

Really,

You say,

Astonished.

Well,

It's still a subject of study among people in my field.

Some say plant,

Others say animal.

I lean somewhere in between,

Says Professor Crow.

If it's something you're interested in,

I could give you some readings,

Or even a research project.

Oh,

You say,

Taken aback,

Unconsciously nodding.

Just give it some thought,

She responds with a reassuring wink.

The sun's sweet rays drip honey gold upon the forest floor,

Deepening with summer afternoon.

The breeze awakens with the perfume of heather,

And somewhere ahead through the trees is a glimmer of deep undulating purple.

Professor Crow continues on,

Beckoning for you all to follow.

Soon you emerge onto an open clearing,

A rocky mountainside alive with rolling heather,

Its waves like a violet ocean.

You turn and see the other peaks around you,

Rising up into a clear blue sky.

Far over the trees,

You can just make out the turrets of the castle,

The school of sorcery beyond the unseen lake.

Nearly there,

Says the professor.

Come along.

Nostrils alight with the aromatic honey of heather.

You hike on.

With the deepest forests behind you,

Cliffs and ledges lie ahead,

And you're surrounded on all sides by nature's towering majesty.

Before leading you in a single file down a rocky and treacherous path along the side of a cliff,

Professor Crow retrieves her wand.

With a muttered incantation and a wave of the instrument,

She conjures up what appears to be a string of golden light.

Drawing with her wand in thin air,

She sends the quivering string forth,

Where it zigzags and entwines with itself,

Forming,

As it were,

A kind of railing along the path.

Hold on as you go,

Professor Crow says,

Moving forth to demonstrate.

It's quite safe.

One by one you step out onto the path,

Taking hold of the guardrail.

To your surprise,

It's cool to the touch and strong as steel or diamond filament.

It makes you feel completely secure on the cliffside path.

You sense from the professor's energy that you are nearing the site of your focused observation imminently.

There's a palpable excitement in the air as she indicates for you to lower your voices and move slowly from this point forward.

On the other side of the railed path,

There's another steep but short climb to a rocky ledge.

Using a similar invocation,

Professor Crow conjures what looks like a rope ladder out of the same golden thread-like material.

You climb.

The professor assists each student onto the ledge,

Which is more than large enough to accommodate your whole class,

But from here there doesn't seem to be anywhere else to go.

There's a grand escarpment opposite you,

From which a number of trees grow precipitously.

The nearest one,

You realize,

Boasts a large,

Disk-like something.

From the wave of gasps that ripples through your class,

You infer that everyone has noticed at around the same time.

It's a nest.

You're roughly 10 or 15 meters from it,

A safe distance,

But near enough to make out the nest's inhabitant quite clearly.

There,

In the center of the swirl of branches and flotsam is,

Perhaps,

The most magnificent creature you've ever seen.

Its head is the sleek,

Feathered head of an eagle,

With a hooked bill and fierce,

Golden eyes.

Its feathers flick upward in two tufts on either side of its head,

Like the ears of an owl,

Or you reflect almost like a pair of horns.

Hanging over the side of the nest are its two bird-like legs,

With curling talons,

And bursting from its shoulders are two great,

Folded wings.

But from there,

The creature's semblance to an eagle ends,

As the feathers blend to fur.

Its back half,

From what you can see,

Contains the haunches of a great mammal.

As you watch the creature flicks its tail,

Another rush of gasps moves through your group.

It's the tail of a lion.

The sun falls upon the animal with such an angle as to make it gleam like it's painted with gold leaf.

Apart from the swish of the tail,

It is perfectly still,

Like a statue you might see adorning the halls of the school of sorcery.

For a time,

You simply marvel in awestruck silence.

But eventually,

Someone speaks.

It's Sam.

Professor,

Your friend asks,

Is that,

Is it a griffin?

Very good,

Says Professor Crow.

You don't dare take your eyes off the beautiful beast in the nest,

But you can hear the smile in her voice.

I discovered the nest here a few months ago,

And I've been watching her since.

They're benevolent creatures,

But prefer their privacy,

So we won't go any closer.

She won't mind that we're here,

As long as we don't disturb her.

But you've spotted something else in the nest.

At first,

You're hesitant to ask,

But eventually you open your mouth to speak.

Are those eggs,

You inquire.

Yes,

Says the professor.

Good eye.

And if we've timed our visit right,

We should be able to see them hatch.

A few of your classmates are suddenly overcome with excited giggles,

But they manage to keep their voices down in respect for the nest.

Professor Crow instructs you to get out your notebooks.

While you wait,

You are to record detailed observations of the griffin,

Her habitat,

Behaviors and environment.

You and Sam sit shoulder to shoulder on a large boulder that makes for a relatively comfortable chair.

Retrieving your field notebooks and pencils,

You begin recording what you see.

You find it easiest to jot down a few notes,

Then make rough sketches for the nest and the griffin.

She is so still,

Barely moving for minutes at a time,

Even her breath so slow and steady as to appear immobile.

You sketch the eggs,

Their domed tops just visible over the edge of the tangle of nest.

Shining golden as the griffin's feathers in the afternoon sun.

You notice the materials of the nest,

Brown needled branches of pine,

Wilted stalks of heather and tender reeds probably foraged from the shores of the lake.

As you sketch and scribble,

Professor Crow speaks in a muted tone about the history and mythology of the griffin.

They were known,

It seems,

In diverse cultures across the world,

With records stretching back to ancient times.

Depictions of the griffin appear in Mesopotamian artifacts as early as 4000 BCE.

In Greece,

They ornamented votive cauldrons,

Signifying their invocation and ceremony.

They appeared,

Along with many other magical beasts,

In the bestiaries of Pliny the Elder,

But whom witches and wizards have often scoffed for his inaccurate descriptions,

But to whom you nevertheless owe a great debt for his attempts to preserve histories,

Both natural and supernatural.

The feathers,

Claws,

And eggs of the griffin were highly valued in the Middle Ages for their rarity.

Looking now upon the golden sheen of the eggs,

It's easy to understand why.

No matter where or when you reflect,

Gold is always precious.

There were some things,

According to the professor,

That non-magical record-keepers got right about the majestic creatures.

The griffin's feather does have the ability to restore sight to the blind,

As some folklore espouses,

But the feather must be willingly given before incorporated into the brewing of a potion.

They are solitary creatures by nature,

But loyal,

And are known to form bonds with humans from time to time.

Forging a friendship with a griffin is an auspicious thing,

Says Professor Crow,

For you'll have a lifelong protector,

A bestower of gifts and wisdoms.

They made for life as well.

In time,

As happened with all the creatures classed as magical or mythical,

The griffins retreated from the ordinary world,

Relocating to remote spaces and centers of magical energy,

Like these mountains.

The world of humankind had grown increasingly unwelcoming.

It was no difficult adjustment for the griffin,

Who already preferred solitude and privacy,

But for other creatures like household sprites,

The displacement was a hardship.

That's why,

Says Professor Crow,

The study of cryptids and magical fauna is important.

In this field,

We aim for the preservation of species,

But also the restoration of a harmonious relationship between humanity and our environment.

The plants and animals and the earth sustain us.

It's our responsibility to care for them in return.

You wonder to yourself,

What is the best way to care for this griffin?

Perhaps that simple act of noticing,

Observing,

Is enough for now.

Learning her history and her relationship to the land on which your school stands might be the first steps toward becoming a steward of the place.

As the sun ages to a crimson disk over the westernmost peaks,

You imagine a world teeming with extraordinary wildlife.

Griffins and dragons and unicorns of frolic,

With horses and foxes and cats and toads.

What would it take to bring magic out of hiding?

To make it safe for the creatures of mystery to walk the earth again,

You wonder.

What would it take to re-enchant the world?

You emerge from your musings as a large shadow sweeps across the ledge on which you and the class sit,

All wings and wonder.

You look up just in time to see a second griffin,

This one larger and streaked with scarlet plumage on its breast,

Sore overhead.

There's her mate,

Says Professor Crow in response to half a dozen unuttered questions.

He'll have been out foraging for food for her,

Home just in time.

The second griffin lands in the nest next to his companion,

Dropping something,

Presumably a meal,

From his talons.

They greet each other fondly,

Brushing their heads along each other's necks.

Only moments later,

The first egg begins to crack.

The air crackles with anticipation.

You reach hastily into your bag for your binoculars and hold them to your eyes to get a clearer view.

Little by little,

The egg nearest the edge of the nest gathers hairline fractures to trace a labyrinth across its surface.

And finally,

After what seems like an eternity of waiting,

A beak emerges from the egg,

Followed by the feathered head of a baby griffin.

The mother and father help it to leave its shell,

Revealing the back haunches.

It's probably the size of a large hawk or a lion cub,

But next to its spectacularly large parents,

It looks tiny,

Timid,

And vulnerable.

The mother griffin nuzzles the first hatchling tenderly.

Once the first is born,

The other eggs,

Four in total,

Follow quickly behind.

Soon the nest is crowded with young.

Only minutes later,

They begin to wrestle and play with each other,

Winding between the legs of their mother and father.

A whole griffin family forms before your eyes,

Here in the hidden peaks of the highlands.

How many other miraculous things are happening at this very moment,

You wonder?

How many eggs are hatching?

How many new souls are being born?

How many quiet,

Seemingly ordinary occurrences are changing someone's world every second of every day?

The greatest gift,

You think,

Of this course of study is the imperative to observe,

To notice the world in all its splendor and all its mundanity,

To make each moment matter.

The afternoon wanes,

A purplish curtain falling softly over the cliffside in the sun's vacancy.

The griffin hatchlings have fallen asleep at their mother's side,

Overtired from the excitement of their emergence into light and life.

For the first time,

As the exhilaration of the event washes away,

You feel tired too,

As if your body has just caught up to the great effort of the hours-long hike.

A haze of exhaustion relaxes your eyelids and shoulders.

It's about time,

The professor says,

To make your way back down and set up camp.

So back you go,

One by one down the golden ladder and across the pebbled path with hands clinging to the rail of light.

The light is kind to you,

Providing just enough visibility as you go,

Then abruptly vanishing as the sun sinks behind the mountains and just as you reach the heathered hillside.

Everyone instinctively pulls out their wands,

Conjuring up an assemblage of glowing orbs,

Magical lanterns,

Which bob and float in your wake.

The musk of the heather rises on a cool evening breeze,

Redolent of summer camping trips with friends and family.

Laughter and conversation fill the air as you set up tents,

Raising them together with your wands in coordinated effort.

There are three altogether,

Set upon the evenest ground on the hill,

One for the professor and two for the class to share.

They're the size of normal camping tents which would surely be snug,

But comfortable enough to fit a few people crosswise.

But these are,

After all,

Magical tents,

And therefore considerably larger on the inside.

Before everyone retires,

However,

Professor Crow lights a campfire and invites you all to join and eat and reflect on the day's experience.

The fire crackles pleasantly,

The warmth wafting off it to ward against the oncoming chill of night.

You feel the bittersweet tingle of nostalgia sitting by the campfire,

The wistfulness for childhood and the awakening of whimsy.

The what could be more whimsical,

More enchanting than everything you've witnessed today?

Again,

You think what a great gift it is to be charged with noticing,

With bearing witness to the magic in the everyday.

Without prompting,

And entirely organically,

Your classmates begin to speak about their observations and experiences.

Lula remarks that she was surprised to hear griffins mated for life,

But then when she saw the bond between the mated pair,

She understood it completely.

Violet volunteers a reflection on the components of the nest,

Which,

According to her keen examination,

Included parts of plants that are not native to the region.

This sparks a brief but fascinating discussion about the migratory patterns of griffins and other mythical birds.

Evidently,

Very little research has been done into such things.

Violet seems interested in studying the matter further.

You are hesitant to add any thoughts to the discussion at first,

But you grow more comfortable as others share.

It's as though the shared effort of the hike and experience of observing the griffins' nest has formed a kind of fellowship between you and your classmates,

A closeness and vulnerability that was not there before.

It sparkles,

Impermanent as the sparks of the flame,

But just as warm and inviting.

I was thinking,

You say,

About hybrid creatures,

Griffins and sphinxes and such,

Magical animals that are a mixture of two ordinary creatures.

Where do they come from?

What do they mean?

After a brief pause,

Professor Crow meets your gaze across the fire with a smile and a twinkle in her eye.

What do you think?

She asks.

I don't know,

You say,

But I suppose there's something interesting about standing between two different worlds.

The lion and the eagle,

Land and sky.

Or like merpeople,

Land and sea.

Sometimes I feel like I walk in two worlds,

Too.

For a moment you're unsure if anyone will understand what you mean,

But shortly thereafter,

Several of your classmates chime in with comments like,

I feel that way too.

Or yeah,

My family aren't witches or wizards,

So I always feel like I'm kind of a bridge.

I think that's very astute,

Says Professor Crow.

There's a reason griffins and sphinxes and other hybrid creatures have been represented for millennia as the guardians of gateways or portals.

It acknowledges their unique abilities to bridge separate paths.

Even behind the heat of the fire,

You can feel your cheeks flush.

It's a wonderful feeling of validation and acceptance.

You're glad Sam is here with you,

And you sincerely hope this circle convenes again.

Soon the fragrant evening,

Lit by campfire and floating lights,

Grows old,

And the gatherers around the fire recognize their exhaustion.

Extinguishing the fire,

Professor Crow reminds you of your departure time in the morning and urges you to be ready to hike down the mountain bright and early.

You and your classmates retire to the two tents to rest.

Lifting the flap of your tent's entrance,

You marvel at the sheer size of the interior.

Inside it's the size of a cottage,

Complete with three separate bedrooms for each of the students sharing the tent.

There's a common area that's furnished like a cabin in the American Southwest,

With thick woven blankets slung over the backs of couches and armchairs.

There's even a kitchen,

A fireplace,

And a generous hearth.

Sam and Violet have joined you as tent mates,

And though you're tempted to sit for a while more and decompress over a cup of tea,

Your bones are simply too weary.

You bid your friends goodnight and retreat to the bedroom on the far left.

You collapse into the bed in the corner of the room,

Letting all the effort and strain of the day melt from your body with an audible sigh.

You release everything.

Curling up under the wool blankets,

You close your eyes.

Immediately visions of fledgling griffins fill your imagination.

You can almost hear their wingbeats overhead.

Beyond the walls of the tent,

The buzz of insects and call of night birds creates a low trembling quilt of white noise.

A symphony of community and connection.

For a few moments just before you drift to sleep,

You try to pick out some of the specific noises and attach them to creatures you know.

The tremolo of a tawny owl.

The cat-like call of a pine martin.

There are sounds you don't recognize,

And your sleepy,

Swimming mind fills with all manner of fantastical pictures.

Winged lions,

Shapeshifting cats,

And finned horses.

A bewitching bestiary pulls your bed like a chariot to the golden gateways of sleep.

Begin to quiet your mind and tune in to the sensation of your body with soft,

Gentle awareness.

Feel the points of contact your body makes with the surface you're resting on.

Feel your belly rise and fall with the constant wave of your breath.

Deepen your breath.

In and out.

Letting yourself sink deeper and deeper with every exhale,

As if you're dropping down with each breath to the next level of relaxation.

Toward sleep.

Slowly and attuned to the rhythm of your breath,

Begin to release tension from all areas of the body,

Starting at the soles of the feet.

Feel any extra strain or tension unwind,

Relaxing the toes and the space between the toes.

Relax the tops of the feet and the ankles,

The calves and the shins,

The knees.

Slowly allowing the knee joints to release,

Letting go of everything they've borne.

Relax the thighs and hamstrings.

Breathe.

Bring relaxation and ease to the point where your legs meet your hips.

Soften.

Pause here to visualize any tension or stress held in the lower body simply streaming out through the soles of your feet,

Like sand falling through the channels of an hourglass.

Relax your hips and hip flexors,

The glutes and the lower back.

Breathe into the lower back,

Especially if you carry a lot of tension there throughout your days.

Relaxing the breath to make that area more spacious and massage away any strain.

Now move your awareness up the spine,

Relaxing vertebra by vertebra all the way.

Relaxing the belly and chest as you go.

Letting the chest sink into your surface,

Little by little,

With the breath as your guide.

Relax the shoulder blades.

Recognize and release any unconscious strain in the shoulders,

Letting them fall away from the ears.

Relax the upper arms.

The elbows.

The forearms.

And the wrists.

Send the breath to the wrists,

Relaxing those joints.

Relax the palms and the back of the hands.

The fingers.

The fingers.

The space between the fingers.

Now pause and imagine any strain you've been holding in the upper body,

Arms or torso,

Streaming out through the fingertips like sand.

Let it all go.

Soften.

Relax the neck.

The space where the neck meets the base of your head.

Relax the jaw and the muscles of the throat.

Relax the tiny muscles around the mouth and the cheeks,

Nose,

Eyelids,

Eyebrows,

Temples and forehead.

Letting your face fall into the most neutral of expressions.

Breathe.

Let the breath come naturally.

Feel deep relaxation in the scalp as you let your mind clear,

Sinking down.

Level by level.

Toward sleep.

Breathe.

Relax.

Soften.

Good night.

Reviews

I enjoyed the beginning but didn’t hear much of the story so must have fallen asleep. Thank you, if I hear more next time will leave a proper review! You must have the lowest review rate because most people will fall asleep too quickly or not remember the story as they were half asleep! Thank you for creating these stories they have helped my sleep so much. 🙏

Enjoyable and effective.

Love this one. Thank you for all your stories! Much blessings! ❤️🙏🏻🌈

I find the Wizard School stories very entertaining and relaxing. Normally, I drift off to sleep quite quickly while listening. On those nights when I struggle, the relaxation meditation at the end sets me up so I drift off. Thank you for calmly distracting my busy thoughts so I can fall asleep!!!

This helps me fall asleep almost every night, and if it’s not this, it’s one of your other stories. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Amazing as always! Love the wizard school series 🥳

I adore the magic of the wizards series. The stories are all independent of each other and yet intertwined so well.
Definitely love & perfect for heading off to sleep.

Thank you for sharing this enchanting and mystical journey. What a gentle way to fall asleep. 😴 💖

Very soothing voice. I was asleep long before the story ended.

Fantastic! Love the story. So many details. Did not put me to sleep, but will try again. Thank you, Laurel!

What creativity! Your stories are works of art. Thank you once again! 🪄✨