Lost Magic

Prologue

18th of July, 2014. Closing to Midnight. London.

Skies were clear. Twinkling stars were out. The long hand of the Big Ben ticked above the humungous number 12; the first bong reverberated throughout the sleeping London. And a young girl dangerously sat atop the windowsill, hair in a flying mess of sun-kissed locks, and eyes so focused on a flickering bright star nothing around her matters anymore.

Bong.

“Starlight, starbright. The brightest second star to the right I see tonight,” the lass sang softly to the wind. “I wish I may. I wish I might. Hear my wish, my wish tonight.”

Bong.

She closed her sky-colored eyes, searching her heart for one very thing she wants the most.

Bong.

Bong.

 “I wish he’s still here,” she whispered hoarsely, her breath as soft as the wind’s touch to her cheeks and tears pooling under her eyelids.

Bong.

“I wish to turn back time. Then I’d wish I cried harder. I wish -   .” She sniffed the fluid from her nose back in as she struggled to keep her sobs silent. Then with a resigned sigh, she said the very thing her heart desired. “I wish everything was the way it was before.” Eyes snapped open as she looked at the star questioningly, tears cascading down her cheeks. “I can wish for more than one, right? I mean, if this helps getting me on your good side, it’s my special day today.”

Bong.

The second star twinkled silently, glowing as bright as ever.

Bong.

To anyone’s sight, nothing had changed. The night was as calm as it was; the star merely a flickering ball of hot gas.  But every blink she did, that spheroidal celestial body seemed to be shining brighter and brighter, flickering faster and faster. The wind howls louder and louder; the long, loud hum muffling whatever sound that was left of London’s night life.

Bong.

Then suddenly, all went still. The wind stopped howling, London was still sleeping.

The lass was left befuddled. Her tears were forgotten as her eyes subtly glowed in the dark incredulously.

Did that just… did something even happen? she thought.

Bong.

That seemed to bring her out of her reverie. Thinking she had only imagined it, she let out a shaky laugh. She wiped the tear streaks off her cheeks as she snuffled.

“Wishing on a star, I must be going mental,” she muttered tiredly to herself, that all-too-familiar sadness filling the void of her heart caused by her father’s death. Yes, she wished for her deceased father’s life back. But some things are just not meant to happen. 

The eleventh bong resonated. The lass closed the window of her room, turned off the night light beside her bed and tucked herself.

“Happy 14th birthday to me,” she sleepily sang, sleep pulling on her last strand of consciousness.

Bong.

And as that twelfth bong sounded, the last for the night, a silhouette of a boy suddenly came hovering just outside the window, peering at the sleeping birthday girl with eyes shining in equal exhilaration and relief. A smile curved his lips, a prayer of gratitude on the tip of his tongue. He pressed his palms on the glass and leaned closer, as close as he can get, whispering incoherent words of ‘The Seeker’, ‘Neverland’, ‘Prophecy’ and ‘Fate’ over and over and over again.

But no one can hear him. No one can see him. No one can notice the 15-year old boy and the little glowing fairy doing a happy dance beside him. But she can – the birthday girl already sleeping soundly and dreaming. She just doesn’t know it yet.

Soon she will, the boy thought to himself.

The boy and his fairy were both relieved for so many things this young girl can do that only the two of them can value.

But alas, no matter how strong they believed their quest to have already ended, the adventure of their lifetime is yet to begun.