Magic comes with a price

1. Sleep

Hey there, this is just for fun so I hope you like it! All these chapters will be in Niamh's (pronounced Neive) POV. The first few chapters will be quite short but they will get longer. Have fun!

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My eyes glazed over with the remnants of a dream. Time has taken on a different form, more plentiful than ever it was, and more quiet moments to think though the oblivion of sleep would be kinder. Every time it comes close my nightmare solidifies, hope fades and the sick feeling returns to my guts. Insomnia haunts my nights; fatigue rules my days. When I need to be lucid and clear, my brain begs for unconsciousness, for sleep at any price. But come the hours of darkness in the comfort of my bed, my mind lights up with new possibilities, new sources of disaster and danger. I want to let go, to count sheep and relax, but soon the sheep are telling me what can go wrong tomorrow because of some avoidable blunder I made today. When I finally sleep, I wake after only a couple of fitful hours and wake as if a whole night had passed but it hasn't. I wish I could be one of those people who roll over and doze off but I can't. I can either lie in my bed watching the colour slowly seep back into the walls, waiting for the dawn chorus, or I can get up.

I straight away looked up just like I used to do with mum every night in our garden back in Sevenoaks, but this was before the imprudent witch decided to ruin everyone's lives. Stars lit the sky like snow-flakes in the night, yet appeared still, like an old painting. I smiled, feeling the wind blow my hair into a tousled mane. Were I out there in space, riding the limits of the known universe, they would be a choreographed blizzard. How the stars would move, the galaxies tumble and dart. But for now, with my arms wrapped around my new suitcase and my head leaning gently on the back of the seat, the starlight kept its familiar pattern. The constellations, who'd witnessed centuries and millennia just the same, watched over this tiny moment. The coach stopped. I was the first to get out and breathe the fresh Cornish air, followed by a girl and two boys.                                                                             
We approached the intimidating manor and I stared at my forthcoming home for the next few years or so. I let my eyes adjust to the dark sky before lingering towards the dark, bulky door. After waiting for a few minutes, the door gently opened to reveal a middle-aged lady. Behind her, all I could see was splendour and amazement. "Come on in, dears!" she explained.

***

Even in the dining room, I was amazed by the beautiful architecture. I looked around me, on my right was a tall, brunette girl around my age. I could tell just by the way she sat that she was insecure; her shoulders were hunched over as if hiding the treasure inside of her, she glanced at me through skittish wide eyes. I can only imagine what might be going through her mind, and what does she think of me? Does she like me? Will I say the right thing? I know those thoughts all too well. I smile at her, hoping to lighten the burden she carries on herself. Then something amazing happens, like a light turning on in a dark room, her eyes lighten and she smiles back. Wow, I wonder, smiles really do have power. They can reach places the sun can't and warm the very soul. Across from me was a boy. He was tall with bushy eyebrows, messy sandy hair and kind grey-blue eyes. Next to him was another boy who looked quite similar to the first girl- tall, long brown hair and blue eyes but unlike her, he had wrinkles around his eyes most likely because he smiled a lot. Compared to them, I was a mess with fiery red hair, bright emerald green eyes, freckles around my nose, and full crimson lips.

"Hello, my name is Niamh Iah," I said meekly. "What's yours?" The three children looked up, the girl started, "Um, my name is Evelyn."                                                                           
"We're twins. The name's Tristan, Tristan Kane." Evelyn's brother stretched over to shake my hand. They might be twins but they're not identical. I smiled and looked over at the other boy. "What's your name?" he slowly looked at me and the others as if he was petrified. "Are you okay?" the boy looked really alarmed. "Sorry, yes I'm fine. I'm Oliver Hart. Nice to meet you." We all beamed at him.  We started talking and getting to know each other. At last, dinner came out and we still hadn't seen the old professor.

After dinner, I excused myself and decided to look around. Oliver decided to come with me. The first room we looked in was the library. I was astonished! Without a word, I walked in, beckoning the boy behind me to follow. After walking through a few aisles of books, we ended up by some chairs; before sitting down, Oliver pointed at a man on the other side. 

The manor was the perfect depiction of the man who lived inside. It had grown old, and tattered, the windows broken and the bricks crumbling. Yet, despite its faults and failings it was still a thing of beauty. The old man hunched over in his lounge chair, leaning closer to the fire, edging his hands towards the flames to warm them from the bitter evening. The light from the flames illuminated his tired, worn face, wrinkles boring deeply into his skin. All of a sudden, his head turned our way and he summoned us towards him to sit down on a sofa. The way his lips lifted upward. The way his one dimple crinkles. The way his teeth were perfectly aligned. The warm glow his happiness gave. His smile was a ray of sunshine, and I was a sunburn. The fireplace was our tiny sun for the evening, casting long shadows over the rug. The flames curled and swayed, flicking this way and that, crackling as they burnt the dry wood. It was so good to feel their warmth at last, even if was from only one direction. We watched in hypnotised joy, holding our hands out to get just a little more of the gentle heat.