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I woke up to the sound of Vanna snoring. She hogged the sheets, leaving my legs to the chill. Stepping out of bed, I tip-toed my way around the room so I wouldn’t trip over Ebba’s airbed.
Down in my lair, I began my morning routine: an hour of meditation, reading fifty pages on Dark Magic, learning a new potion recipe, and revising my Latin vocabulary while doing fifty push-ups. (Fine, they were five push-ups. No need to judge).
It was just another day, except it wasn’t. "Happy birthday," everyone cheered as they appeared at the door with a cake.
"Tonight, we partyyy," Jackson cheered. "You’ve been too busy with your training. This is your chance to have some fun, and my mother is throwing a kickass party."
I put my hands together. "Mayan is the best."
I thought back to the past year and how different my life had become. Many things had happened in these 365 days. I learned I was a witch, received my grimoire, fought evil, dropped out of college, got dumped, and discovered the truth about my mother. There were good moments and bad ones, but as I stood in my lair, surrounded by my family and friends, I couldn’t be more grateful.
Just because it was my birthday didn’t mean I could slack off. After we ate the cake, Ebba and I got to work. "This is it," she said. "This is the plant we used."
"Mitu Parim?" I read off the laptop screen. "Mitu as in dead, Parim as in－"
"Dust."
"Mitu Parim," I repeated with a nod, then continued to read. "Usage: An ancient herb with antibacterial properties used to treat severe infections. Environment: Dry soil and high temperature. Availability: Extinct... Oh, God." I smacked my head.
"C-can’t we find something else?" Ebba asked.
"If we want to reverse the immortality spell, we need the exact ingredients used to create it. Otherwise, it won’t work."
On my whiteboard behind us, I had written three ideas for fighting Jivar: (1) Using the amulet with Dark Magic, which seemed like a long shot given how powerful Jivar was. (2) Recreating Viessa’s Nusku potion to prevent Jivar from taking Doyle as a vessel. Unfortunately, we didn’t find any recipes for the potion. Finally, (3) reversing the immortality spell. I had a lot of hope for that one until the Mitu Parim turned out to be extinct.
I glanced at the paper of ingredients Ebba dictated, and a thought hit me. "That’s weird. Nothing on this list is powerful enough for a Dark Magic spell."
"Wha-what do you mean?" Ebba asked with a hint of nervousness.
"A spell to defy mortality must require a massive sacrifice," I explained. "Gold. Pearl...Blood."
"I d-on’t—" She buried her head and wrapped her hands in her lap. "I don’t remember J-jivaros having any gold."
"Oh," I uttered, then looked away, unable to face her. Just like I suspected, they killed someone and used their blood for the spell. Ebba might’ve been naïve, but she still committed a crime.
"J-jivaros brought it," Ebba wailed. "He said it was for Rimanis. He said the chief deserved to die."
I turned to see the tears gushing from her eyes and her face reddening.
"There’s evil in me, Echo," she said.
"There’s evil and good in all of us," I replied, softening up to her. "Every day, we get to choose who to be through our actions."
Ebba wiped her eyes and hesitated before asking, "A-are you sure you’re taking the r-right actions by learning the dark arts?"
"I’m doing the best I can with what I have."
I realized Ebba and I were more alike than different. The two of us were granted powers beyond our comprehension, and for these powers, we had to be tested.
***
The waves crashed into the rocky shore, lapping over the old shipwrecks. It had been a while since that area had any visitors, except for the seagulls searching for food.
"O scorching sun. I summon your essence into me." The energy of the sun entered through the tips of my fingers, deluging me with heat. My skin grew as red as the shirt I was wearing. "Obey."
I threw my attack at Vanna, who stood at a distance. The amulet glowed around her neck. She blew in the air, and a gust of wind came out of her mouth, fighting off the fire I created. The two attacks hung against each other, but mine pushed through and darted towards Vanna.
I clapped my hands, and the fire vanished before it hit her. "Twelve seconds," Doyle said as he emerged from behind. "You’re improving."
"Thank you," I replied as I bounced on my feet. The Sun Strike left my body swelling. Without a thought, I took off my shoes, hopped on the broken wooden bridge, and plunged into the water. The adrenaline pumped through me, then plummeted as the heat slowly left my body.
"I see you’re no longer afraid to jump into the water," Doyle called out as he sauntered along the bridge.
"You remember?"
"Why wouldn’t I?" He smiled.
The heat traveled to my cheeks. I floated on my back and inhaled the salty smell of the ocean. No longer did I care about my messed-up hair or my overrated prestige. I was free to do whatever I wanted. Not bad, Stiff Head. Not bad at all.
"How does it feel?" Doyle asked.
"Simple... Joyful... Freeing." I turned in the water, unsure if I had just described my feelings for the ocean or Doyle.
***
We wrapped up our training early since we had a party to prepare for. I was in my room brushing my hair when Vanna walked in, grabbed my hand, and spoke in a dramatic tone. "Promise me, Echo. Promise me to take care of Kirby."
"We’re not going to war, Vanna," I said. "It’s a birthday party."
"Trust me. He’ll eat too much and spend two days complaining about his stomachache."
I feigned a serious look on my face and affirmed, "I’ll do my best to keep him out of the buffet." Watching stone-faced Vanna show her cute, motherly side was a delight. "Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?"
"Human interaction is a waste of time," she replied. "I’d rather stay home and read."
I suppressed a laugh. "Ookay then."
"I’m r-ready." From the door, Ebba emerged, wearing a yellow maxi dress with long sleeves. She had her hair braided to the side like a dark-skinned Elsa.
"You look beautiful, Grandma," I teased.
"Do-n’t call me that." She frowned.
"How come you never pick any cute dresses for me?" I cried out at Tara, who followed Ebba into the room.
"Did you ever ask?" Tara put on her scolding face. "Anyway, since it’s your birthday, I’m going to dress you up so Doyle will drop his jaw when he sees you."
"Stop it, Tara," I said in an annoyed tone. "Doyle and I are just friends. He’s still grieving for Viessa, so nothing can happen between us."
"Are you saying if he weren’t grieving, you would have no problem getting together with him?"
"Yes. I mean no, I mean...shut up."
Tara burst into laughter.
***
Jackson came from a vastly wealthy family. His mom, Mayan Raynott, was a successful businesswoman and a loving, generous mother. She was also a social butterfly that never missed an opportunity to throw a party.
The ballroom in Mayan’s mansion fit around two hundred people, and she made sure to invite them all on my birthday. The jazz band blared from the stage. Walking in, the brightness of the chandelier almost blinded me, and I had to squint.
"Are you all right?" Doyle asked.
"It’s the lights. My eyes take time to adjust."
He chuckled.
I found myself playing with my hair, thinking of how cute we were together. Doyle borrowed a black tuxedo from Jackson, and I wore a royal-blue dress with a mermaid cut that flattered my figure. My hair was down, so it gave off a ginger glow in the light. I felt good about myself and even better with Doyle beside me.
My fantasies were disturbed when Heidi showed up. "I can’t believe you’re wearing sneakers to your birthday party."
"I can’t believe Mayan invited you to my birthday party," I replied, gritting my teeth.
Rolling her eyes, she turned to Doyle. "I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Heidi."
"Doyle."
"What a nice name," she said, leering. "Veeery mass-culine."
Can I punch her? I clenched my hand into a fist, but before I did anything reckless, Tara stormed in like an angry bull and stood between Heidi and Doyle.
"I heard you too are a witch?" My sister jumped right to the scolding. I had warned her about Heidi’s family. The Mortons were working for Zaros, and they owned the warehouse where Tara was taken hostage. Regardless, my sister decided not to make any judgments before hearing her friend’s side of the story.
"I swear I wanted to tell you," Heidi said, opening her hands out in a defensive gesture. "It’s a family secret."
"Yeah, right." Tara walked away, forcing Heidi to chase her.
"I’ll be back for you, handsome," she called out to Doyle as she disappeared in the crowd.
Everyone found their place at the party. Tara introduced Ebba to her girlfriends, Grandpa met with his, and Kirby went straight to the buffet. Although it was my party, I didn’t know or care for any of the guests. For a second, I wished to go back home, but that would have been a waste of my fancy dress.
"What do we do now?" Doyle asked. He probably felt as alienated as I did.
"Let’s go for a walk," I replied.
I showed Doyle around Mayan’s topiary garden, where the bushes were trimmed into all sorts of life-sized animals. "Is this one a cat?" He pointed at the one to our right.
"I think it’s a fox. The cat is right there, behind the dinosaur."
He and I sat on the edge of the fountain, under the soft lights. The sound of the rippling water soothed my soul. For a moment, I forgot about my worries and just enjoyed being with him.
"This is a huge house." He looked impressed for a man who grew up in a castle. "Does Jackson’s mother live here by herself?"
"No, this is the party house," I explained. "Mayan is staying in a small apartment by the river. She and Mr. Raynott started their lives in that place, and after he passed away, she felt the need to move back there."
"She’s grieving for him," Doyle said in a sympathetic tone like he understood what Mayan was going through.
"It’s been years, and she’s still wearing black."
I dipped my hand in the fountain to feel the cascading water. Contradicting thoughts overwhelmed my mind. Is it wrong to have feelings for Doyle? It’s not like I chose to. I just care about him. Am I a bad person for feeling this way?
"Are you still in love with Viessa?" I blurted. As soon as I saw the shock on Doyle’s face, I took back my question. "Sorry. This is none of my business."
"It’s all right," he said, regaining his calm features. "But I don’t have an answer. What do I know about love?"
"Everyone has their definition of love."
"Is that so?" He smirked. "What’s yours?"
"M-mine?" My shoulders tensed up as though I was caught while robbing a bank.
"If you ask a question, be prepared to answer it."
"I walked into this one, didn't I?" I giggled. "Not sure what to say here. I don’t know much about love either, but I think it’s more than a feeling. It’s a connection and a relationship built on trust and respect."
Doyle’s blue eyes peered into mine
It sounds like I’m reading off the dictionary. Am I blushing? I hope I’m not blushing. Should I look away? But what do I say now? "Lo-love changes how we see things and how we see ourselves."
"How’s that?" His gaze didn’t waver.
"Uhm, we learn to be less selfish, maybe? More accepting and kind?" I said, then looked away nervously. Searching my mind, I found no reason to be awkward around Doyle. If my feelings were sincere, I should act that way and just be myself.
"It’s comfortable," I said, turning back to face him.
"What’s comfortable?"
"Love. It’s comfortable to be with the one you love, but it’s also challenging because you open up and share yourself with another person. Am I making any sense?"
"You’re making a lot of sense."
We traded a soft smile that made my heart flutter. It may have been selfish, but I wished my feelings would reach him.
"Here you are," Mayan interrupted our conversation as she emerged from the manicured bushes. The sixty-year-old lady had the friendliest attitude, though her eyes showed her never-ending grief. "What are you doing out here, birthday girl?"
"Mayan, thank you for the party," I cheered while hugging her. "This is my friend, Doyle. Doyle, this is Mayan, Jackson’s mother."
They shook hands, then Mayan leaned over to whisper in my ear. "So is Doyle a friend or a friend?"
"Mayan." I hushed her.
"I’m asking for a reason," she said, acting coy. "There’s someone here for you."
"W-what? Who? Why?"
"Just come with me." She took me by the hand. "I hope you don’t mind, Doyle. I’m going to steal this lovely lady for a while."
Mayan dragged me back to the ballroom, from where we entered a large terrace. A man in a suit stood by the railings, his back facing us. The smell of his citrus cologne made my heart tumble.
"J-joe?" I almost choked on the word.
He turned to me and said, "Happy birthday, Echo."
