Epilogue

Edinburgh in March

“There he is, I can see him coming out.”

Mum, Opal, Leanna, Marley, and I are all waiting outside of Freddy’s posh school in Edinburgh. Marely and I have just been picked up from our own and now we’re meeting my Siren friend. He lives with Leanna and Marley these days and even my cousin has to admit that he’s starting to like the Siren.

Freddy saunters over and the adults move away, giving us some privacy. It’s been months since Portia’s demise, and I know they worry about Freddy. Not about his influence, but about how he is coping. Some days are good for him, and others are not.

Marley and I try to be good enough friends to him, so that we can take some of that burden away.

“Lord, your school is posh,” I mutter, looking him up and down.

He laughs. “Thanks. I’m surprised they let the likes of you near the gate.”

“I’ll put a stop to places like this when I run the world, never you fear.”

He laughs again and then glances down at his shoes. “So, listen. At this rather posh school, they want us to, like, socialise, and stuff. There’s a spring ball thing they’re throwing, and we’re allowed to bring a friend. I was wondering, if you weren’t busy a week on Friday, if you wanted to come?”

Marley stifles a snort and turns away. I glare at my cousin and then find that I am now staring at my own shoes. “With you?”

“Well, yeah.”

“As a date?”

“Yeah.”

I look over and see a group of girls staring at us. One gives me a slow perusal but another smiles encouragingly. It all seems too normal and nice and like what we’re supposed to be doing.

I suppose it’s funny that getting asked to a dance
is scarier to me right now than Dragons, Kelpies
and Vampires.

“You wouldn’t rather go with one of them?” I ask, nodding towards the girls.

He follows my glance. “Nah. They’d probably be nice to me. Where’s the fun in that?”

“Ramya? Rams!”

I close my eyes in mortification at the sound of Mum and my two aunts hollering at us from ten feet away.

“Put the boy out of his misery!” Opal calls, while her sisters cackle like the witches they are.

“We can go dress shopping, or you can wear one of mine!” Mum adds.

“Oh, vintage,” Leanna pipes up.

They all guffaw and I can feel myself turning crimson. I grab Freddy by the elbow and move him as far away from my humiliating family as I can.

“This isn’t a joke?” I mutter.

“Of course not.”

“If it is, I’ll kill you.”

“It’s not.”

I scuff my shoe and shrug. “Okay, then. Fine. I’ll go with you. But if the music sucks, I’m leaving. Dyspraxics can dance, but only if the music is decent.”

I am so embarrassed; I can’t look at him for long. I do notice that he’s beaming but I turn and rush back towards Marley. I have something else I need to do this week and now is the perfect time, because I can’t take the teasing that I know they’ll deliver. Marley walks in step beside me as I storm away.

“Do not say a single word to me,” I snap at him. I can feel the mirth radiating off him.

“‘Sirens are evil, Marley’,” he says, spluttering with laughter and pitching his voice high, as he does a terrible impersonation of me. “‘We’ve got to stop them. We’ve got to make sure’—”

“Shut. Up.”

“‘Just not my boyfriend, he’s different’.”

“I will end you. I will pound you into these cobblestones and Edinburgh ghost guides will point at you and make tourists give them money. Here lies Marley, cousin of Ramya Knox, and he died not minding his own business.”

“I’ll book the church hall for you both!” Opal yells, making Marley shriek.

“I hate you all!” I call back.

*

Blue nuzzles against my hand, as Marley and I reach the hillside of Arthur’s Seat.

“You’re getting too brazen, girl,” I tell her. “Anyone could see you.”

She chuffs and I laugh. We are far up, and tucked in near the entrance to the old kingdom. Finding the door took a bit of searching but we located it eventually.

I’ve been practicing. Every single day after school, I read books and practice with Aunt Opal.

Preparing for this.

I cast a shield, one that has Glamour built in. We will not be disturbed by hillwalkers or geology classes on this day. I open the door hidden in the great rock and ask Blue to stand guard, as Marley and I step inside the darkness and begin our descent. I cast a little flame and we use it to light our way.

“What if Portia is still here?” Marley whispers nervously.

I’m concentrating on the steps but then decide to let magic take over. I float, my feet airborne above the stone and I glide down towards the lower ground. I land gracefully.

As I said, I’ve been practicing.

I wait for Marley, and we push open the great wooden doors together. We hold our breath, both secretly and silently worrying that the Siren might still be here.

She is not. Only the tree stands, solitary and unmoving, in the centre of the ample hall.

I walk slowly towards the oak.

I’ve been practicing. Every day. When I’m not, I think about it. I think about improvement when I go to sleep, and I wake up with the answers. I remember what the Stranger said, even if his face is blurry.

It would take quite the witch to do it.

I am the witch to do it.

I begin to conjure. The spell is pinkish and light, buzzing between my hands with electric energy and a need to be cast. It is strong, stronger than anything I have ever done, but I am calm as I prepare to release it.

I am not defined by handwriting workshops. Or the disapproval of others. I am not even defined by my family. This feeling, this ability, these hands that are able to create despite the strain they are sometimes under, that is what I choose to be defined by. In moments like this, I have learned to let the blue inside of me go.

When magic is blue, it is not for you. I was told
that once.

I let all colours of magic inside of my heart. The darker tones, the lighter shades, the fire and the water and the earth.

The pink turns into a pale blue and I know that I am ready. I cast. I release. The spell breaks loose and hits the trunk of the tree with the force of an arrow shooting through the air.

A branch begins to slowly transform, bark becoming flesh. Nimble twigs snap into bone, fingers that are reaching out for someone. The roots become two legs, bent into a crouching position. The withered leaves meld together and become hair.

A still and unmoving tree transforms into a Dryad before both of our eyes. She stays crouched, her head hung low for a few seconds before breathing in a huge gulp of air and looking up.

We stare at each other.

Then, as her chapped lips part to say my name, I throw my arms around her and squeeze. I hold on with as much strength as I used all those months ago, when I thought I would never see her again.

It’s a spell I could’ve only cast in my dreams last
year, but I made it happen. I hold on, too emotional
to let go.

Her hand touches my face, as if she can’t believe I am real. Then it travels up to my head, feeling the woollen garment I am now wearing with pride.

I put it away, with some parts of myself, and I want to wear them all again. No more masks, no more hidden places. I know that sometimes I might misplace pieces of myself. I might forget a part of myself in a rude conversation or a bad deed. Someone might pass on and take pieces of me with them. Maybe some pieces are gone, and they won’t come back.

Maybe that’s fine. Maybe you grow new parts of yourself, or other pieces get stronger. I’ve been made to feel incomplete my whole life, but that is not the story at all.

“Nice hat,” Alona says.

“It’s, uh, not a hat,” I say, stroking it fondly. “It’s a beret.”

“You came back for me,” she whispers, her voice a croak after being unused for so long.

“I told you. Friends always come back.”

Wherever the pieces of me go, I know who I am. I know the fragments that need to return will always find a way back, and that what is most important will never truly be gone.

I’ll be fine.

The End.