The Ouiums Journey: Hell Broke Loose (book 1)

Chapter 3

It'd been a long time since I'd felt the touch of mystical energy within me. I was born a witch, so pure and so enchanting. I took pride in my healing hands and my energy that used to flow like a never-ending stream. I used to look at rivers and felt the connection I had with them. When I used to dance under the moon and stand under her light, absorbing her essence, I felt one with her. I used to smile at the sun that shone brightly in the sapphire sky, taking in the wonder of absorbing its light and often admiring its golden glow. The world was more colourful, and it had a livelier response to my touch. Being a witch, we are always closer to the magic of nature and, somehow, I wanted to feel like that again. To be one with nature and share a connection that couldn't be expressed with words.

I was sitting in Estelle's coven courtyard, reminiscing about the old days, wondering what went wrong. I was a burden. Abomination. The gifts which were my legacy, the talents which I was supposed to age with are now gone. I was a teenager who lost his purpose for a while; even now, I am still a little lost. Once there was a time when I used to enchant my tools not just for energies of nature but for my physical wellbeing as well. Now, all I have is this necklace that I have to steal magic from other things. It is a clear depiction of how one could easily fall into the trenches, which is what my current situation was compared to the times that were gone now.

At some distance, I felt a figure and heard the rustling of leaves and twigs snapping. I looked behind me and saw it was Estelle.

Her presence was deeply enchanting. She smiled, not just with her face but with her eyes too. It was as if Mother Nature herself had walked into the room and lit up the entire room. Many people couldn't look beyond the fact of who we are for if they did, they would see the true person Estelle is.

"Good afternoon," Estelle said in her sweet, melodious voice.

"Hello," I spoke, trying my best not to appear as grim as I have been in the recent past.

"I see you are sad. Why?" she asked.

What do I tell her? How do I tell her?

"So, you are a Siphoner. What is so wrong about that? I am a Siphoner too," she said.

"I have to steal magic, and we were taught as children it was wrong, just as bad as black magic or worse," I spoke once again, the despair slowly consuming me.

The fact that she had simply assumed what was wrong with me showed how strong her intuition was and my respect for her simply soared. The more time I spent with her, the more I found myself respecting her.

"I borrow magic through my rings. What is so bad about it?" she asked. "Explain the magic to me. The old magic, the power that you felt while being a witch..." A sudden hopeful sensation appeared within my heart.

Yes, the old magic, the old flame that cannot be rekindled other than in memories. So warm and soothing but so far out of reach. It was something to yearn for but never to be achieved at least not as a Siphoner.

"The magic was great. It was as if there was an entire universe inside of me. Everything I saw was connected to me. I looked at the stars and felt a part of that energy inside me too. I felt a connection to the waters that flowed within a stream. I felt as if my presence was a gift." I sighed, hanging my head. "The magic is something like a warm sensation. It is filled with life. When I tapped into it, I felt as if it ignited my veins. It produced the euphoric sensations that I miss."

There was a look of understanding in her face, and I knew that she clearly understood how I felt.

"I admit we are no longer witches like we used to be. Tell me, how do you describe the gift of siphoning?" she asked.

When all the previous times, I had felt a hint of hope after my escape, this time, I felt a wave of frustration within me.

"It is not a gift. It is something like a curse. The pool of energy that was filled with magical energy, just waiting to be tapped into, is now a never-ending void that can never be satisfied. The void keeps sucking things into it one way or another," I said, looking at her.

"Let me change your mind. I admit that where we felt the warm sensation of magic once, we now feel a cold touch that is very different. The unfillable void was felt by me, too, once. It may come off as unnatural. We were born as witches with our magic, and borrowing it from other sources doesn't feel right," She told me gently.

"Its hunger is never satiated. We borrow magic and never get our own. I would give anything to be a witch, but I am stuck this way for the rest of my life," I said, this time enforcing my views. Maybe she was right, but this was truly how I felt about it.

"I completely understand that. However, in some ways, it is still like being a witch," she said, ending her statement with words that made me pause to think about this whole situation.

Getting up, she beckoned me to follow her. I did. We had to walk a few steps, and then we came across a garden. It was a sanctuary of colours, filled with perfumed air as I saw the varieties of flowers. Being here, reminded me of my coven as well as Meria and Sylva. People from a past life that I could never get back. There were so many of them. And that was when I could see the careful hand that planted them. Such wonders rarely existed without hard-work, and the hand that had made it all happen was hers.

Could it be that we Siphoners still have a connection with magic? With nature?

I saw her walking towards a plant that wasn't at its best. In comparison to the garden around it that was akin to butterflies, that particular plant was a dead moth. It might have been beautiful, its wilted roses feeling like they once blossomed, adding to the beauty of this garden. Now, it was a burden like me out of place in this garden. In short words, a monstrosity and abomination defiling the beauty of the garden.

Estelle was gently caressing its petals and holding its dead flowers in her hand without plucking them.

"In some ways, I am still a witch," Estelle said. The rings on her fingers filled with a special touch of magical energy; I could feel it pulse towards me in the air. She was siphoning their magic.

It started with a leaf, as its veins filled with emerald shades again—first one leaf, then the branch, and then the entire plant. The scarlet roses bloomed again, filling with life through her healing touch.

"Siphoning magic can still heal," she spoke, filling me with the hope that maybe we were not so different from normal witches.

I considered her words for a few seconds as I wondered if I wasn't as bad as I had thought I was. Maybe all I needed was someone like Estelle to show me that I was the one who could define who I was not the world. Who saw me as an abomination that shouldn't exist in this realm. Maybe like the dead moth, Siphoning magic could make me fit into this world again.