"My, can you teach me magic?" I asked.
The question slipped from my lips before I even thought it through.
The morning air was cold, and smoke from the fireplace above the pot of stew my mother was stirring.
It had been three years since we escaped into these woods — three years of silence, of hiding, of surviving.
And I had finally turned five.
I had a theory that mom's magic involves the Solfège system. She used the word ReFa to create for the wood, DoTi for creating water for the stew and MiLa to heal my hands when I gotten bruises.
A strange pride filled my chest. For a child born in fear, I'd made it this far. I'd learned to walk quietly, to listen to the forest's moods, to sense danger before it came. Still, I was small and weak. If danger came again… if that man ever returned… only magic could save us.
Mom looked up from the pot, her long red hair tied messily behind her, shadows under her eyes.
"Magic?" she said slowly, placing the ladle aside. "Why would you want to learn something so dangerous?"
"Because…" I stared at the floor, feeling the words tremble in my throat. "Because I want to protect you."
She exhaled sharply, her shoulders softening. "Protect me? Simon, you're still just a boy."
"I know, but—" I clenched my little fists. "You're always tired, and sometimes I see you crying when you think I'm asleep. I want to help, Mom. Magic is the only way I can."
Her lips parted slightly. For a second, her eyes glimmered — sadness, regret, and something else… fear. She turned away and reached for the kitchen knife, chopping herbs with sharper motions than before.
"Magic isn't a toy, Simon," she said. "It's not something you learn because you're curious or brave. It changes you."
"But—"
She raised a finger. "No buts." Then she sighed, her tone softening again. "Maybe when you're older. Say… when you're—"
BANG!
A violent knock shook the cabin door. My heart jumped into my throat.
Mom froze, the knife slipping from her hand and clattering onto the wooden board. The stew's bubbling filled the silence that followed.
Another BANG echoed. Louder. Heavier.
"Open up!" a voice called — rough, slurred, too close. "I know there's someone in there."
Mom didn't move for a heartbeat. Then, like lightning, she was at my side.
"Simon," she whispered, her voice trembling but firm. "Under the floor. Now."
She lifted the corner rug and pried open a hidden panel. Beneath it was a small hollow space lined with dust and old rags — our emergency hiding spot.
"Go!" she urged, shoving me inside.
I didn't try to protest, when her shaking hands pressed me down. She crawled in after me and pulled the panel back over our heads. Darkness swallowed us.
The man's voice grew clearer now, muffled through the wood above.
"Come on, missy. I saw your tracks by the lake. You and the boy. Don't make this harder than it has to be."
My pulse hammered so hard it hurt.
He knew about the lake. He'd been watching us.
Mom's hand found mine in the dark. Her grip was tight, trembling. I could feel her heartbeat racing through her fingertips.
CRASH!
The door burst open. Wood splintered. Heavy boots stomped across the floorboards.
"Nice place you got here…" the man muttered. I could hear him dragging his fingers across the walls. "Smells like lavender in here."
He was close — his voice coming from right above us now.
"You know," he continued, "I don't see you bathing in the lake anymore. Thought maybe you ran off. Guess I was wrong."
Mom stiffened beside me. Her breath hitched, then steadied.
She was terrified. But she wasn't broken.
I wanted to ask who he was. I wanted to scream. But Mom's trembling hand guided mine to my ears, pressing them tightly. She pressed her forehead against mine — a silent promise. Then she whispered a single word I barely caught:
> "Forgive me."
Her hand moved away, and suddenly—
THUD.
She kicked the floorboard above us open.
"Oh-ho!" the man chuckled, his voice shifting with excitement. "Looks like someone's ready to play."
His boots thudded closer. The air seemed to thicken, and I felt a faint vibration in my chest — like a storm building from nothing.
Then the footsteps stopped. A shadow fell over the gap above us.
"Found you."
He bent down, his face appearing in the dim light — greasy hair, cracked lips, eyes too bright with madness.
And that's when Mom inhaled — slow, deep, her lungs expanding like she was pulling the air from the whole room.
"MiFaaaaaaaaaaa—!"
The sound that came out wasn't human.
It was a scream of pure magic. A voice of power that tore through the air like thunder. The world shook. The walls cracked. Glass shattered. Birds outside exploded into flight.
The man's face twisted in agony. Blood sprayed from his ears. He clutched his head and fell backward, screaming, thrashing like he was being ripped apart from the inside.
My own ears rang despite her hands covering mine earlier. The sound felt alive as it vibrated through my bones.
Then silence.
Mom grabbed me, her chest heaving, eyes glowing faintly blue — the remnants of the magic still fading. She didn't hesitate. She climbed out of the crawl space, snatched a cloak from the wall, and ran.
"Hold on, Simon," she panted.
We burst into the forest.
Cold wind lashed against my face. The smell of pine, mud, and blood filled my lungs. Branches whipped at us as we ran — left, right, deeper and deeper into the wild.
Behind us, faintly, came a groan. The man was still alive.
"Mom—"
"Don't look back," she said, tightening her grip.
We ran until the cabin was just a memory. But fear still clung to us like smoke.
Then it happened.
Her foot caught a root. She stumbled. The world tilted.
She twisted mid-fall, turning her body so I wouldn't hit the ground first. Her shoulder slammed against the earth, and her head struck the base of a tree with a sickening crack.
"Mom!" I screamed.
She gasped, the air wheezing out of her lungs. Her arms tightened around me protectively, even as blood trickled from her mouth.
I tried to lift her head, but she only smiled faintly.
"I… will… protect… you," she whispered, her voice barely a breath.
Her blood dripped down my cheek, warm and trembling. It rolled into my left eye, burning, blurring my vision.
I held her hand tightly, refusing to believe it. The world blurred around me — the forest spinning, the shadows thickening.
And then, for just a moment, I saw something in the trees.
A flicker of light. A silhouette watching us.
Not the man — something else. Tall. Cloaked. Glowing faintly blue, like the echo of my mother's scream.
I blinked, and it was gone.
The forest was quiet again.
Mom lay still in my arms, her breath faint but alive. I pressed my forehead against hers, whispering words I didn't understand — a childish prayer, a plea.
I didn't know who that man was, or why he wanted us. But one thing burned in my chest with blinding clarity.
I would never be this helpless again.
I would learn magic.
I would grow stronger.
And I would protect her — no matter what it took.
Because in that moment, when the woods trembled from her scream and the stars dimmed from her light… I understood something.
Magic wasn't just power.
It was love screaming against fate.