A rusted and moss-covered bench, just large enough to hold two people, looked out over the dirty and overgrown stream which the ducks had long since deserted. On it sat a little ball of shining black hair with a small yellow flower sticking out, curled up and quietly sobbing. Her frilly pink backpack lay forgotten on the ground next to her.

Destan sat down on the root of a massive oak tree, where the grass was flattened and the bushes didn't grow. He'd spent so much time here over the years that his frequent presence had created a gap among the plants, ready to welcome him home. As he folded his feet over each other, he peered across the stream, watching his little sister cry.

For as long as he could remember, Destan had loathed the day Julia was taken away from home. She'd been loved before she was even born. He could still see his mother's smile as she let him feel her tummy over a decade ago.

"That's your little sister. Can you feel her kicking?" she'd said. Destan had nodded and she explained, "She's saying hi. She really wants to meet her big brother."

"I want to meet her, too!" he'd immediately exclaimed. "I'll be the best big brother, I promise! When can I see her?"

"Soon," his mother had laughed. "She'll be with us soon."

The next thing he remembered was sitting in the wardrobe of his parents' bedroom with his hands over his ears, shaking. The dream he'd been waiting for months to come true had turned into the darkest nightmare. People were screaming. His mother bawled and shrieked.

Opening one eye, Destan watched his father carry a little bundle of blankets to the door. His mum, wearing a night gown stained with crimson, collapsed on the floor, his grandfather standing in front of her.

"Come on, Leena," he heard his father's voice shout over his mother's wailing. "You know it's better this way. She'll never be happy here. She'll never fit in. Leena, this is for her own good."

The Chief nodded and Destan's dad disappeared through the door. The room quieted.

Finally, Destan dared to take his hands off his ears, only to hear his mum groaning, as she rocked back on forth on the bed. "My baby girl... Please, she's my baby... Give her back to me..."

His heart had leaped to his throat when Destan realised what was going on: they'd taken his little sister away. Even now, a decade later, Destan still felt the hollowness in his chest when his five-year-old self finally understood.

Destan startled, ripped away from the memory, when Julia suddenly moved. She tore the flower out of her braid and threw it to the ground at her feet. Then she buried her face in her arms again and carried on crying. She came here often to cry. He wasn't sure what made her so miserable, but it was clear that his father had been wrong about Julia being better off in Grimsby.

Wrapping his arms around his legs, Destan stared across the water. If only he could show himself to her; he would comfort her and hug her until she was happy again. But he couldn't, because tribe laws forbade him to be in contact with her. The Inops couldn't know about the magic-users in the forest. Fortunately, he had other ways of cheering her up.

He looked around at the trees and bushes beside him. On the ground grew moss and mushrooms, surrounded by fallen leaves and pinecones. A little further away, closer to the stream that separated him from his sister, he found what he was looking for: a small patch of blooming, yellow flowers. These buttercups grew all along the stream.

With his eyes still on Julia, Destan snuck over to them, picked a handful, and slunk back into the shadows. From there, sitting on the soft moss, he reached out to a flower's molecules and let it hover above his hand. It floated past trees into the open, over the water, all the way to the bench.

There, it stopped, hanging still in the air just in front the sobbing little girl, shuddering hesitantly.

"Come on, Julia," Destan muttered to himself. "Look up."

But his little sister was so lost in her sadness that she didn't notice the magic in front of her.

Destan moved his finger slightly forward, moving the flower in the same way. Its stem brushed Julia's wet cheek, but she didn't respond. With another flick of his finger, the flower tickled the top of her head. This made her waft it away with her hand, without looking up. Destan poked one more time and now, finally, Julia looked up.

Sniffing, she peered through wet lashes at the floating yellow flower, waiting patiently. Destan traced a circle in the air to make the flower roll over. Then he made it hop around her head. By the time it was back in front of her eyes, the tears had stopped.

Destan reached for the pile next to him and had two more flowers float over to join the first one. He made them spin around in a circle, like children playing a game. Julia chuckled in between sniffs and stuck out her hand. One by one, the flowers landed on her palm and hopped around on her hand as if they were tiny little humans taking a walk on a giant's palm. Julia threw the flowers up into the air, like she'd done so many times before, and Destan pulled on them to make them dance above her.

All of a sudden her head whipped around and Destan's heart squeezed painfully in his chest. He let go of the flowers, dropping them to the ground around the bench, and followed her gaze. Someone was coming. He pulled down a leaf-covered branch in front of him, hiding him from view even more.

"Julia! What are you doing here?" the woman called as she closed the distance to Julia's bench.

"Hi, Miss Huntley."

Destan didn't recognise the woman. She wore a purple beanie hat and a kind smile. She had lines beside her eyes that reminded him of Aruna, even though she must've been half the old woman's age.

"Are you out here all by yourself?" said Miss Huntley as she sat down next to the girl.

"Yes... But I'm allowed to! I know the way home."

Miss Huntley chuckled. "I don't doubt that. Hey... Is everything okay at home? I noticed you've kept to yourself a lot in school lately."

Julia shrugged. With her knees pulled up, she rested her chin on her arms and stared out over the stream. "Nero's being mean to me. A lot."

"Have you talked to your mum and dad about that?"

Julia nodded. "They don't do anything about it. They're always busy."

They were silent for a little while, until Julia asked, "Why did they adopt me if they don't want me?"

"Oh, honey, I'm sure that's not true. Do you want me to talk to them?"

"No thanks, Miss," said Julia. "I'm fine, really."

The woman hummed, obviously not convinced. "Why did you come all the way out here? You live near the old tower, don't you?"

Destan held his breath. She wouldn't tell this woman about the flowers, would she? Would Miss Huntley even believe it if she did?

Another shrug. "I like to draw here. It's quiet."

"Yes. People don't come here very often. It's a bit run-down, this side of town, isn't it?" She gestured at the houses nearby. "Just make sure you don't go into the forest, okay?"

"I won't. Dad said there's wild animals there."

"Yes," said the woman, staring across the stream. "That too."

"What do you mean, Miss?"

"Oh... It's just a story."

"I want to hear it!" said Julia, putting her feet down and clapping her hands.

Miss Huntley laughed. "It's not a very good story... But sure, why not?" She turned in her seat to face Julia and cleared her throat. "Legend has it that once upon a time, a long, long time ago, the forest was filled with something more dangerous than wild animals. It is said that mages lived there."

Julia gasped as Destan's breath caught in his throat. This woman knew about them? How was that possible?

"Mages?"

"Yes," said Miss Huntley. "People who could cast all sorts of magic. One day, they came out of the forest to meet with the people of Grimsby. For a while everything was good. But then, out of nowhere, they started fighting with each other. The mages returned back to the forest and made all the people of Grimsby forget that they existed."

"They can do that?" Julia exclaimed.

Destan nodded absentmindedly. Mr Janes, an old friend of his dad's, had such mind-controlling powers. Miss Huntley wasn't wrong; tribers could do anything. But he had never heard this story before. Had this really happened? Or was she just making things up?

"Oh yes, easily," said Miss Huntley. "They're very dangerous people."

"But..." Julia eyed the forest across the stream. Destan pushed himself a little further into the shadows, just in case. "Are they still there?"

Miss Huntley laughed. "It's only a story, Julia. My father used to tell me this, so I'd stay away from the forest. Still, it's a good reason to stay on this side of the stream, don't you think?"

Julia nodded fiercely. A silence fell upon them, as they both looked out over the trees and greenery. Destan nervously pulled another branch in front of him, careful not to make sudden movements.

"It's been a long time since I've been inside that forest," Miss Huntley sighed eventually. Before Destan could process her words, she stood up. "It's getting late. Can I walk you home?"

"Okay." She picked up her pink, fluffy backpack and opened it, pulling out a piece of paper.

"What are you doing?" Miss Huntley asked as Julia as the girl lay the paper on the bench with a rock on top of it.

"I'm leaving my best drawing here. For the mages."

Miss Huntley chuckled as they walked away together, into Grimsby.

Destan sat in his hiding spot until they were gone, but his eyes weren't on his sister anymore. They were on the rock and whatever Julia had left under there. For the mages. Did she mean for him?

Destan's shoulders tensed, as he peered across the stream. She'd never done that before, leaving something behind like that. He bit the side of his lower lip, tapping a finger on his knee. Why on earth would she leave a drawing under a rock in the middle of nowhere?

The questions raced through his head as Julia and her teacher disappeared around a corner. He waited another couple of minutes, in case they came back, but he soon couldn't stop himself any longer.

With a quick glance around, Destan took a run-up and jumped over de stream. Within seconds he found himself on the other side, bending down to lift the rock. He snatched the piece of paper underneath it and turned it over.

On the paper sat a girl with long black hair in a white dress. In the picture Julia was surrounded by five beautiful flowers, floating above her head like a halo.

This was not just any little girl's drawing. Destan's heart leaped at the sight of how well the lines flowed over the paper, how nicely the colours blended. Julia had inherited her mother's talent.

It was a drawing of Julia and Destan together, or as close as Julia could get to that, since she didn't know what Destan looked like. His heart warmed with a mixture of pride, joy and love. She cared about him, just like he cared about her. Even though she didn't know him, had never met him, she still loved him.

Above the picture stood a message in curly writing:

Who are you?

Destan felt a lump rise up in his throat. Julia was his little sister. She always had been and she always would be. But he wasn't sure if he could answer her question. It was just too dangerous. He couldn't even imagine the trouble he'd be in if anyone from the tribe found out he was still in contact with her. And if someone from the town found out about him, about the mages in the forest... Nothing good could come of that. He'd never be able to see her again.

He folded the paper up neatly and pushed it down into his pocket as deep as it would go. No one could ever see this. And he never wanted to lose it.