Determined to face my fears, I ran out the back door and sprinted to the overgrown pathway. I felt the emotions that had taken me to the clearing as I relived the events of that fateful day as clearly as though it was a movie playing inside my head. After four years of trying to forget, I remembered every detail as though I'd been transported back into my thirteen-year-old self.
Mom said my talents, though a responsibility, was a presence of something greater flowing through me. Just like it had run through each member of my family before me. Unlike my ancestors, I didn't want or care for my inherited gift. But, like mom always asked, "How can you hate something that you've yet to experience?"
I reached the edge of the pathway and pushed forward before I could change my mind.
The rock-ridden ground made me stumble along in my favorite pair of scuffed Fila sneakers, the soles nearly bare of traction after just two months of trekking down the worn path that wound its way to my clearing. I loved the comfort and freedom found in wearing fitted pants, button-down plaids, or plain, run-of-the-mill t-shirts—never white—with random phrases embroidered on their chest. The more insane, the better. As I corrected the misstep, my breath grew quick. Perspiration burned down the skin of my back, my arms, and the slim column of my neck like fire upon open water.
I started to run.
It was so close now.
The broken branches of bare trees extended their claws, grasping at me and stinging my legs with shallow scrapes as I drew closer to my destination. The dense thicket of trees—pines, willows, and oaks—flourished behind the rise of my home. It was hard to see now as it faded from view more with each step.
In two days, I would start high school. My time would be limited. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened up my hearing, wanting to catch a picture of this moment to remember its joy for the rest of my life—a sensory photograph in my mind, indestructible and forever perfect.
The air cooled, protected by the trees' low-hanging branches, creating a blanket of shadows.
Perfect.
I felt pulled in two directions. Though what I'd come to do needed to be completed in the clearing, my body continued to place one foot in front of the other.
I didn't stop until my shins rubbed against the top of the flat, polished rocks next to the water's edge, benches nature had set up for spectators to watch the shallow current as it flowed downstream. I climbed the rock to watch as the sun sparkled across the rippling surface, illuminating its natural beauty as the only break in the darkness surrounding it. Hours had been spent here, sketching or just watching the water as it flowed in a cacophony of clear blue veins of fluid energy.
With my chin against my knees, I wrapped my arms around my legs as I pulled them into my chest around the tote in my lap. I squinted against the sun to see the mirrored reflection staring back at me from the water. This girl was small, gaunt. She hid behind large glasses that disguised her wide, strange colored eyes—one green, one blue, both surrounded by a ring of grey shadows. Timid, she shrunk within herself, scared even of her own scrutiny.
I stuck my tongue out and pulled it back in. Cocking my head to the right and then to the left, I stuck my tongue out again. Making a sour face, I watched it's duplicate below, realizing my features only served to detract from my unruly hair.
Standing, I hiked my tan tote over one shoulder and pushed up my glasses before heading back the way I had come. They were always sliding down the slant of my nose now that I'd lost the dreaded baby fat. Mom had promised that my high cheekbones were enviable to others and that they were the first sign of my impending development, but I couldn't see it. I was lanky and awkward, underdeveloped as I began my transition out of childhood.
"Here I go," I huffed as I plopped into the ragged blue fabric lawn chair that I'd dragged down to the clearing at the beginning of summer.
For a moment I hesitated before pulling out the essentials for what I wanted to do. It was too late to back out now. Candles? Check. Butane lighter? Check. Instructions? Check. Unbound powers? Double-check. Confidence? Not so much, but I was prepared to fake it.
I set up my collapsible table in the center of the clearing and placed the candles and lighter down. I reread the handwritten instructions copied from my mother's very first Book of Shadows, pulling strength from the knowledge that, like me, this was her first solo spell.
I stood in the middle of the clearing and sucked in a deep breath, scared to look around.
The spell I'd tried was supposed to light the wick of my candle. I didn't need the physical use of the lighter, but since energy cannot be created from nothing, its essence would be transferred to complete the spell. A day would come that I wouldn't need to supplement the ignition with a tool mimicking fire. Instead, I would be able to utilize the energy from another source, such as a rock a mile away or something.
Obviously, I hadn't been near that skill set.
Breathing deeply, I exhaled slowly and closed my eyes, remembering how much I wanted to complete the spell. My young mind had assumed that being able to use magic would compensate for the awkward phase I'd been stuck in. Give me confidence or something, which seemed stupid now.
"Incendia!" I yelled, turning and pointing my finger at the candle's wick.
Nothing happened.
I rubbed my palms against the stomach of my flannel shirt and took a deep, calming breath. "Incendia!"
No flames. I breathed in and out repeatedly. No thinking. Just breathing. I could do this; I would do this.
"Incendia! Ignis! Orsa flamma!" I growled when nothing happened, though this time I swore I saw a momentary flicker.
My nose pinched at a new sulfuric smell. It was getting closer. Having had my powers bound for so long, it would take a while for success. I stepped back, drew another deep breath to settle my nerves, and then resumed my position. "Don't give up," I heard my mother's voice say, flowing through my head like a water valve that I couldn't turn off.
"Incendia," I whispered and squinted at the candle. It had no effect. The candle remained untouched, with no sulfuric odor or momentary flicker of flame. Instead of progress, I'd moved back from my goal.
Had I copied the spell the wrong way?
Leaving the candle and lighter for later, I started back the way I'd come, kicking the ground in defeat to raise clouds of dust that exploded into the air wherever I passed. My mother didn't like me skipping meals, though she wouldn't mind if she knew I was trying to use my abilities. Telling her would raise impractical expectations, though, and I couldn't even get a stupid candle to light.
If I was useless, she wouldn't have to bind my abilities.
In my mind, I saw a huge flame engulf the whole candle until it was a puddle of seething wax. That was how I had thought my so-called abilities would have presented. What a disappointment.
Crack.
I stopped midstride and listened.
Snap. Crack. Hiss... Snap!
A roar whooshed into the air and I turned, my jaw dropping.
The entire clearing was ablaze in a fast-moving fire that was crawling towards me as though to say hello. For a moment, I hopped in place with excitement, a grin splitting across my face. Then I realized that if I didn't stop it from spreading, my clearing would be lost to me. It could destroy the surrounding habitat for plants and animals alike, not to mention my home.
"Subsisto!" I yelled, raising my hand palm-out in front of my chest.
The fire was at least twenty yards away, but the heat was already fierce, like an irritating sunburn itching itself into my exposed skin. My clothes clung to me, hot and confining. My stomach heaved, and I couldn't breathe through the choking smoke filling my lungs.
"Subsisto!" My Latin translations were atrocious, but I had no idea what else to do. I didn't even know how it had happened. I mean, it hadn't worked before. I'd seen with my own eyes that the candle hadn't been lit before I'd walked away.
"Stop!" English didn't work. "Subsisto! Subsisto incendia! Declaro ignis! Undo... Flamma subsist!"
It was still spreading.
My chair had already been consumed.
The acrid stench of burnt plastic, wood, and natural debris filled my head in dizzying waves as I watched the coiling black smoke climb high into the air like a beacon with nowhere to escape. Almost running in retreat as my survival instincts kicked in, I stepped away from the heat, squeezing my eyes shut to block the destruction. My fists clenched until crescent-shaped cuts drew blood under my fingernails, my knuckles white.
What would my mother do?
If only there was a large bin of water to drench it.
Water, water... water!
The images in my head were switched, and I thought of the stream just beyond the clearing, blocked now by the wall of fire. I thought of its clear blue purity, its flowing perfection. The tranquillity that settled over me the moment its sweet, refreshing smell was inhaled. It was calm. It was cool. It was wet, stronger than any fire that I could create.
Hiss...
I opened my eyes one at a time and blinked. The fire was gone, just as fast as it had come. Steam rising from the charred ground and lingering heat were the only remnants to prove what had happened was real. The fire was gone, though the damage was done.
My clearing was destroyed.
The amazement and pure happiness I felt transmuted into dread even more terrifying than the fire itself. I turned and fled. My breath caught in my throat as my legs pounded the ground. My heartbeat echoed like a gong in my head, reverberating throughout my entire body. I couldn't let myself think of what could have happened, and I could never tell my mother. If I hadn't been able to stop the fire... I didn't want to imagine what could've happened.
Magic wasn't a gift but a curse, and I didn't want a damn thing to do with it.
Racing up the lower level of our deck, I slammed against the back door inside the enclosed veranda and tried to catch my breath before entering. If my mother saw me like this, I would never be able to hide the truth.
"Nora? Honey, where'd you get off to?" My mother greeted me as she opened the door. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, hey, Mom. Uh, nothing is wrong," I lied, breathless, and pasted a fake smile to my face. I hated lying to my mother, but it was my mistake and now, it was over.
"Nora?"
"It's nothing, okay?" I realized at that moment that my spot would never be the same. I would never be able to visit it again without remembering how much magic scared me, its possibilities lethal. I'd developed an instantaneous fear of the woods and could never go back. Not ever.
"Okay? You're sure?" She reached out and rubbed my shoulder in comfort. "You know you can tell me, right? You can tell me anything."
"Sure, but as I said, I'm fine. Um, after supper, uh... I think you need to bind me again."
"Already?"
"Yes. I'm unbound."
I took a deep breath and inhaled the air infused with the lavender scents emanating from her and whatever supper she'd prepared. She never wore perfume—she didn't need it. The remedies she mixed and oils she used always left their aroma on her. Lavender was the most common, and my personal favorite.
"You know, one day I won't be able to do it anymore. You're coming unbound more often and it's not easy. Won't you think about learning to use—"
"No," I said, cutting her off before she could verbalize her suggestion. Trying to take a calming breath, I smiled again to hide my anxiety, and my hands tightened into knots. "I don't want to use magic, Mom. Not yet. I'm, uh, not ready to go there."
I would never be ready to go there.
"Fine." Her shoulders slumped. Go and wash your hands before you eat."
Noticing a smudge of charcoal on the palm of my hand, I rubbed it against the un-tucked tail of my shirt, hoping not to draw her attention. "Okay," I agreed and jumped up to race out of the room, head hanging with shame and failure. I never wanted to feel like this again. How could something that was supposed to be so good be so terrible?
"Nora?"
Pretending not to hear her, I was too ashamed and rattled to face the disappointment in her eyes.
"Noreena?"
The memory began to fade, and the present demanded to be let back in.