Essay, Pages 6 (1492 words)
I remember thinking how absurd it was, knowing that we had power that we never noticed. I laughed a laugh of disdain when they figured out that the sources was just a manifestation of power that was stolen from us young. I also remember the men recovering from the blast. I remember feeling cheated when my brother was one of them. I hadn’t done it on purpose. They all blamed it on machinery malfunction. They decided to live in the world of denial rather than to blame me.
Which I honestly didn’t mind. I felt mad still and somehow responsible, though it wasn’t my fault. I felt more sadness and unfairness than I felt sorry. I did this, in my own body, that someone had spontaneously invaded. When Mariakvan had violated my mind, she had decided to kill my brother, but I had beat her from my mind before she could, but he is still recovering from the shock of his sister or at least the body of his sister trying to kill him.
I would do anything to change that, but what’s done is done. I can’t go back and change my foolishness. I wish I could.
He understands. At least I think he does. I have no idea. All I know is that I’ve spent countless hours next to his bedside looking at the wrinkled, charred skin that covered most of his body. I had been the cause of these burns. I could feel the power in them still.
I could see the hurt expression on his face. The burns wouldn’t have been that bad if they hadn’t been magically induced. They could heal those burns easily if they weren’t from my hands. If they weren’t from Mariakvan’s power. She was the traitor, I see that now. But I also see how I was quick to turn my opinion on the brother that I’ve had for all of my life.
I wish. . . . I knew that I could say that all day. I was home and I feel like that’s the most that I could wish for. My brother still looks like a monster from a bad dream, but the witch doctors of Ditrix are working on a cure. The rest of our witches are focusing on power without the source. We are also tracking births of possible witches so that their power doesn’t get stolen by a source. I still can’t believe that the way the sources got power was by stealing from children until they hid about fifteen.
As of my power, the power that I got from Mariakvan, was from all the people she had ever stolen it from. I had thought long and hard about what to do, until the only rational thing popped into my head. I had to give everybody their power back. I had to give them everything that I had stolen. I could feel their soul inside of mine. I could feel their power along with mine given to me at birth.
My parents still didn’t figure that I did this to Kustaa. They do however know that we weren’t there on accident, that we weren’t just taking a stroll and happened upon something dreadful. I had read the news papers. They had all said the same thing “Sister and brother found at the sight of an explosion. Was it them? Was it all just a big cover up? – I couldn’t stand it. They could keep their stupid headlines. I didn’t care. What I cared about was that I did it. I was never going to be able to live it down. The worst part is that I couldn’t bear to look at Kustaa without crying. I felt so horrible inside.
All I had was the power of so many others that had their power wrongfully stolen from them. I hadn’t quite mastered giving the power back to them. It turns out that one of our witch doctors had sourced off Mariakvan. I could feel it when I saw him. His power felt like a puppy happy to see its owner. So I figured that if Mariakvan could steal it, I could release it. For a minute the despicable of Mariakvan had stayed with me and told me to keep it all for myself. I knew better than that and had told him of what had happened. He smiled gleefully as I told him that I could try a transfer. It worked pretty well, but I started to feel it coming back. It was the same puppy feeling that I had before. I tried it again holding his hands and chanting the words that came to me then I said something different. Veila. I recognized it as a Finnish word roughly translated to stay in English.
When he came back the next day I didn’t feel the puppy feel. Only that of another person’s power. I’ve been trying really hard to tell people what has been happening with power. My brother still needed his, but I couldn’t grasp his hands without him wincing. All of the men here are recovering from magical burns, which they would later blame on me. I knew it, but I wouldn’t back down. Iiro, the first man that I had transferred power to, was teaching me how to help heal the people, and then how to take the magic back when I was done with it. This conserved power in case something major had happened, or there was an undeniably bad wound. Only when they were healed were we allowed to pull our magic back. I had been working on my brother’s hands while Iiro was standing by my side telling me what a good job I was doing.
– Iiro, I can only do this well because I have witch doctor power inside of me. I can feel it’s comfort while I do this and discomfort when I perform other magic. It’s like a little toddler inside me, it cries and tantrums when I do something not to its approval and sits in captivation when I do something that it wants to, at saying this Iiro looked sad. – What’s wrong Iiro?
– I’m happy to teach someone how to heal with magic, instead of using it for deeds less than wise, – his voice was sad as if taken back to a memory that wasn’t desirable. – You know my father was like that. He wanted to teach me to do dark magic.
I was stunned this man had been in my life for two months now, he hasn’t appeared even the slightest bit dark. This was when I had felt the dark inside of me. It felt much different than the puppy feeling, it felt more like a rat looking at its next meal. It was Iiro’s father’s power.
– Tell me, what was your father’s name?
– Vilho. He was the darkest witch doctor that I had ever known, – his eyes were down. A look of shame passed his face. – I remember being so ashamed of him, but wanting to be like him at the same time.
– If I went around trying to give the power back to their rightful owner, would you help me?
– I don’t know. Magdalena, this is something that not many people want to hear about. You could get into some undoubtedly bad business, – gunuine fear crossed his face, seemingly casting a shadow.
– I want to help. To spread the word, please, Iiro, please help me.
– What of your brother? – he asked. He didn’t look too worried about him, but I suppose he was just supplying another reason for us to stay.
– I think he’ll be fine. I’ve been talking to him lately, he wants me to do this, and has been speaking fondly of all of the people I will help.
Iiro looked at my brother and back to me, “This magic inside of you is strong, and you know that with every passing moment it grows. You know that sending it out will leave you with smaller traces of power, meaning that a little bit of you leaves with them. Are you still willing to risk it?”
I tried to look like I was considering it, like I hadn’t thought about it since the day of the “malfunction”. But I had thought about it. It was in my thoughts every single day weighing them with their presence. “Yes.”
With that, we were gone. We were swept away into the madness of it all. Iiro was by my side and never left giving me support through all of the transfers. Helping is what healed my mental wounds, what had brought people happiness. Bringing people happiness is what we should all strive for. It’s what we should all want, and I have learned, through many years of helping those people, that it’s what we should all give.