Ever had this really strange longing and anxiousness about something that you just can't seem to let out of your mind for a second? Well, that was exactly how I have felt ever since the night I found that letter in Father's journal. Throughout the following weekend break, I was very busy trying to figure out whether my abilities had manifested. Since I had entirely no apparent idea whatsoever about magic and the way it works, in essence, I consulted several books, articles, journals, historical records, and even witch trial records. Basically, just about every library resource I could possibly get my hands on that mentioned anything that I thought could help me learn to any degree, how to conjure magic, I read. I was so eager, that I even went as far as performing most of the odd practices that I had read; I lit candles, cut myself with a knife, drew strange symbols with salt, made several hand gestures, and even pronounced weird texts and spells written in languages I had never seen or heard of, but it was all to no avail. Not even a single effort of mine was successful, no matter how many times I tried, although, in spite of my impatient nature, I couldn't give up yet. I believed Father would want me to keep my hopes high and never give up, so that was what I did. I kept on trying.
Like always, Henry was deeply worried about me. He thought my impatience and desperation to manifest my abilities was gradually turning into an obsession, and feared the possibility that they might not manifest anytime soon as I expected, or worse, not manifest at all, therefore further adding up to my current suffering and tragedy, and driving me down a deeper hole of anguish and hopeless self-disgust, because I wouldn't be emotionally ready to accept the disappointment, as I would have already drifted far beyond redemption, and the damage would have already been done.
He seemed quite puzzled when he stepped into the room and found out the books scattered all around the floor had now tripled in number to the point that there was barely any room to step on, and there I was at the centre of it all; on a small round space amid the ocean of books, I sat, on the bare ground in a meditation posture, legs crossed, eyes focused, and right hand stretched forth towards the unlit candle standing a few centimetres beyond reach, with an open book on my lap. And yes, you certainly guessed that right, I was attempting to magically summon flames from my fingertips to light up the candle. Henry gave a slight knock on the door, indicating his presence in the room. I ignored him, as all of my attention was strongly focused on the object in front of me; the unlit candle. Henry knocked again, but much harder this time, as he wanted to get my attention. I sighed loudly, brusquely dropping my arm.
"For god's sake, Henry, I almost… Gush!" I protested, my voice edging with frustration. I turned to him, "Seriously, what part of no interruptions of the spells do you not understand?" I asked in a rather receded tone. He ignored me.
"How did you find this many books?" he asked.
"Local library," I grunted.
"Local library," he thought, "Wasn't it a little suspicious, your choice of books, I mean? Don't you think the library lady or whoever in charge might have found it a bit weird that all the books you borrowed have something to do with magic and witchcraft?"
"I said it was for school homework," I explained.
"But you don't go to school," he said.
"So?" I sighed nonchalantly.
"So what if they go asking about you in the schools?" he asked.
"They won't do that," I said.
"How do you know?" he questioned.
"I don't know, Henry, because that'd be so ridiculous, maybe. How about you do your little psychic trick and find out if they'll be silly enough to do that," I replied teasingly, as I returned to what I was doing.
"Stop it, psychic don't work like that," he objected.
"Want to take a break, continue some other time, day maybe?" he asked.
"I don't have time," I said plainly as I went on with my unsuccessful attempts to summon my newfound inner magic.
"You know you don't really have to be so hard on yourself, if your powers are meant to be, they'd definitely manifest at the right time, you just have to let it come to you," he explained.
"You don't just get it, do you? I need them now more than ever," I replied.
"I hate to say this," he started, "but ever since you read that note from your father's journal that night you've changed quite a lot, not in a good way, and probably not in a bad way either, but in a way that is definitely not healthy for yourself considering your current state. You now seem so desperate to get these powers, as though your whole life depends on that, as though you weren't living anyway before I gave you that book," he said, with his typical concerning eyes arched down sideways with utmost sincerity.
"Do you call this living, Henry?" I asked him. "I mean me, do you consider this living life? I know I must've whined too much about the whole orphan thing, that it now seems merely like a feeble excuse for self-pity, but you do know my life now is already more messed up than just that little poor orphan girl," I said.
"I mean, can't you see? I'm more or less a fugitive in a city that was once home, and I can't go to any public place without constantly looking over my shoulders and being so scared and paranoid all the time. Apparently, there's a band of…of bloody psychotic killers currently after me, and I can't go to anyone for help cause even the government itself has me on its most wanted list, maybe to be used for some bloody science project," I explained, my voice edging with pangs emotions and pain, my eyes misting with tears.
I continued; "Ever since that night, it seemed like I'd never stopped running and hiding. I had to cut my hair, fit into boy's clothing, and even change my own name. I'm tired of running and hiding, Henry, and…and being so darn scared all the time. Maybe my whole damn life depends on getting these powers now, 'cause from my experience so far, I have got to admit, I am absolutely nothing without those powers," I explained.
Tears were already forming in his eyes upon hearing my plea.
"Don't say that," he said, "you can't base your life off some abilities you aren't even certain about, you're only going to hurt yourself in the end, trust me."
"Truth is… there might be a chance your powers may never actually manifest, you just need to keep an open…"
"What?!" I cut in, right before he could finish, my eyes squinting with a qualm of disbelief and puzzlement. "Keep an open mind?! How could you even think like that?!" I protested. "After all we've been through together, you of all people should know the height of urgency and necessity surrounding this desire, how important it is to me that I get powers. I just can not believe that you would say something like that, you're the one person who has actually been nice to me since I lost them, you…you said I was like a sister to you, and I also think of you as family, and that's what's confusing, because ever since I began this quest, all you've ever done is shed doubt and negativity rather than support and encourage me, and now you want me to not hope; the very thing that you know I've been lacking all this while, and you want me to just let it go? Makes me want to believe that… maybe you don't want me to have powers," I said, the last part depicted a hint of reluctance.
"That's not fair," he replied, seeming quite upset, "I never said anything like that, I'm only suggesting that you keep an open mind about all of this, and maybe not put your hopes so high, because I really am worried about you, and I don't want to see you get hurt any more than you already have. I know you must trust your father so much, but on the flip side, let's not forget that we still exist in the real world where people have flaws and anything can happen," he explained. "Trust me, disappointments can be really hurting and damaging, especially when you're emotionally unprepared, and we both know emotional stability hasn't really been your strong suit," he added.
I sighed.
"You may see with more than just eyes, Henry, but you don't know anything about my father. In all my years knowing him, he had never said anything he wasn't sure of or told me anything that turned out to be false. My father is the most trustworthy person I've ever known, and no one, not even you, can convince me otherwise," I said, making myself clear.
Henry didn't attempt to make any further opposing comment on that, as he sensed I would never really understand his point of view.
"What are you gonna do?" he suddenly asked, "I mean, if you get powers," he said.
I cleared my throat.
"WHEN I get powers, you mean?" I asked, implying the 'when', and with a hint of reluctance, he nodded in concurrence.
"Well…what do you think?" I asked, drying my eyes with my shirt's left sleeve.
"You're not planning on some revenge, are you?" he asked, his quizzical eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"You just don't get it," I replied, "It's not just about revenge on those that had them killed, it's about finally granting them justice. My family was murdered by a gang of bloody killers for apparently no justifiable cause, and these killers just went their way like nothing happened, and are currently walking around freely on the streets as I speak. If nothing is done about their deaths, it means their lives meant nothing, and that their being killed was justifiable, and I just can't stand that. They didn't deserve it, Henry, my parents didn't deserve it, Dominic didn't deserve…. God!…" I paused, I could feel the stinging salty sensation of the tears I was now struggling to withhold in my eyes, it was unbearable. "Dom was just four, he knew nothing about anything, and they still…they still took his life. They took my little brother away from me, they took everything away from me."
At that point, I couldn't help it anymore. I broke down again in tears.
"You speak of moving on as though it were that easy, like you wouldn't do the same for your family if you were in my shoes," I explained, "but now you see what I mean, what I must do."
"You don't have to do any of that if you don't want to," he said, "This isn't your burden to bear, you don't owe anyone anything, so you don't have to prove anything. I feel the possibility of these powers might be a final shot at a better life for you, and I'm not sure your father would want you wasting it starting a war you cannot win. Be smart, you have a whole lot of years ahead of you, live your life," he said.
There was a brief moment of silence now.
"It doesn't matter what my father wants," I said, finally breaking the silence, "What matters is doing what needs to be done. I know the life that I want, but it wouldn't be worth living knowing that those killers went away with what they did. As much as I don't want any of this, I need to do something. If I were in a position to make those killers pay and I decided to do nothing, then I'm nothing more than a coward, and I should as well be dead."
"And just so you know," I added, "the war's already started, and I haven't swung a sword yet."
The rest of my weekend was mostly spent on intense study and research on magic, and the ways of the mystic arts. Soon the weekend break was over, and we had to resume our respective workplaces in earnest. I still recalled the awkward encounter in the kitchen with the master the previous week. The idea of my returning to work that Monday made me so tense and nervous, but I managed to convince myself that nothing awkward actually happened and that the master probably must have forgotten all about me over the weekend. Like normal, I carried on with my usual functions for the day; watering the seedlings at the nursery, and cleaning up the poultry pens. Everything seemed to be going well as always, but it wasn't so long till I received the most frightful message.