The Root of Magic

Chapter 3

A rusted and moss-covered bench, just large enough to hold two people, looked out over the dirty and overgrown stream which the ducks had long since deserted. On it sat a little ball of shining black hair with a small yellow flower sticking out, curled up and quietly sobbing. Her frilly pink backpack lay forgotten on the ground next to her.

Destan sat down on the root of a massive oak tree, where the grass was flattened and the bushes didn't grow. He'd spent so much time here over the years that his frequent presence had created a gap among the plants, ready to welcome him home. As he folded his feet over each other, he peered across the stream, watching his little sister cry.

For as long as he could remember, Destan had loathed the day Julia was taken away from home. She'd been loved before she was even born. He could still see his mother's smile as she let him feel her tummy over a decade ago.

"That's your little sister. Can you feel her kicking?" she'd said. Destan had nodded and she explained, "She's saying hi. She really wants to meet her big brother."

"I want to meet her, too!" he'd immediately exclaimed. "I'll be the best big brother, I promise! When can I see her?"

"Soon," his mother had laughed. "She'll be with us soon."

The next thing he remembered was sitting in the wardrobe of his parents' bedroom with his hands over his ears, shaking. The dream he'd been waiting for months to come true had turned into the darkest nightmare. People were screaming. His mother bawled and shrieked.

Opening one eye, Destan watched his father carry a little bundle of blankets to the door. His mum, wearing a night gown stained with crimson, collapsed on the floor, his grandfather standing in front of her.

"Come on, Leena," he heard his father's voice shout over his mother's wailing. "You know it's better this way. She'll never be happy here. She'll never fit in. Leena, this is for her own good."

The Chief nodded and Destan's dad disappeared through the door. The room quieted.

Finally, Destan dared to take his hands off his ears, only to hear his mum groaning, as she rocked back on forth on the bed. "My baby girl... Please, she's my baby... Give her back to me..."

His heart had leaped to his throat when Destan realised what was going on: they'd taken his little sister away. Even now, a decade later, Destan still felt the hollowness in his chest when his five-year-old self finally understood.

Destan startled, ripped away from the memory, when Julia suddenly moved. She tore the flower out of her braid and threw it to the ground at her feet. Then she buried her face in her arms again and carried on crying. She came here often to cry. He wasn't sure what made her so miserable, but it was clear that his father had been wrong about Julia being better off in Grimsby.

Wrapping his arms around his legs, Destan stared across the water. If only he could show himself to her; he would comfort her and hug her until she was happy again. But he couldn't, because tribe laws forbade him to be in contact with her. The Inops couldn't know about the magic-users in the forest. Fortunately, he had other ways of cheering her up.

He looked around at the trees and bushes beside him. On the ground grew moss and mushrooms, surrounded by fallen leaves and pinecones. A little further away, closer to the stream that separated him from his sister, he found what he was looking for: a small patch of blooming, yellow flowers. These buttercups grew all along the stream.

With his eyes still on Julia, Destan snuck over to them, picked a handful, and slunk back into the shadows. From there, sitting on the soft moss, he reached out to a flower's molecules and let it hover above his hand. It floated past trees into the open, over the water, all the way to the bench.