❝You know, you should dye your hair red.❞
❝Er... why?❞
❝So it'll match that fiery personality of yours.❞
❝Or so it'll match your own?❞
❝That too.❞
❁❁❁
Serena Mallard is anything but a rule follower.
Spontaneous and very stubborn, with bravery that b...
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２２ Ｓｅｐｔｅｍｂｅｒ １９８１
９ｐｍ
❁❁❁
IT WAS A QUIET September night, the still air punctured only by the occasional hoot of an owl or honk of a car. A chilly breeze swept over the city of London, almost as if a curtain of frost had been draped over its inhabitants. Maisie Mallard felt it, even in the confines of her compact, yet warm apartment. The young mother strode over to the bedroom she shared with her husband, peering inside the crib in the corner of the room. There lay Iyla Mallard, wrapped in a white blanket, peacefully sleeping. The soft inhaling of her two-year-old daughter calmed Maisie, whose heart was beating faster than normal.
Maisie was anxious. Particularly more anxious today than any other. But as she brushed the soft baby hairs away from her daughter's face, she reminded herself that they would be just fine. All she would have to do was wait until they came back from the meeting.
"Mum?" a child's voice called. Turning around, Maisie looked down to see her oldest daughter in the doorway. The little girl bounced into the dark room, a grin on her small face. "Mum, I was playing Exploding Snaps and it blew up in my face! With a big boom!" Serena Mallard shouted in glee, tiny hands imitating the explosion.
Maisie lightly chuckled, picking up the three-year-old child. "Quiet, Serena. Iyla is sleeping."
"Well, why don't you wake her up? All she does is sleep," the little girl crossed her arms, unwilling to lower her voice.
Iyla stirred, always a light sleeper. Maisie cooed her back to sleep, exiting the room. "She's a baby, Serena. And babies need their sleep. Like you."
Serena gasped, obviously offended. "I am not a baby! I am four in a month!" She counted on her tiny fingers, lifting up four of them. "See? I'm grown!"
Maisie rubbed some of the soot from the cards off the little girl's face with a chuckle. "Sure you are. How about some hot chocolate for my grown-up Serena?"
"Yay!" the young child clapped, wiggling out of her mother's grasp and onto the floor. Maisie laughed, entering the kitchen after her daughter. She had just pulled out two mugs from a cupboard when she heard a quiet whizzing sound. The woman immediately stiffened, pulling out a small golden compass she always kept in her pocket. Maisie popped open the cover of the compass; its dial was spinning out of control, which only meant one thing: someone was nearby. Maisie whipped out her wand.
Just as she expected, there was a knock at the door. "Mum, who is that?" Serena asked quietly, voice quivering in fear. Though she was only three, she knew well enough that whenever her mother pulled out her wand, it could only mean something bad.
