~1770~
“Bastien, pick something easier,” my mother whines as we sit in the parlour enjoying our little game.
“Now Maeva, you’re only whining because you’re losing,” my father teases as he sits back in his chair. My sister Élodie and I snigger at our parents.
“I want to have a turn,” Élodie cheers, raising her hand into the air.
“You show them how it’s done,” I encourage her, as she leaps up off the sofa and stands in front of all of us.
I watch with pride as my little sister’s hands begin to glow a stunning shade of purple, her eyes turning blacker than night with a pearl of silver in the centre. She waves her hands around and little stars begin to appear in the air and slowly they begin to form a shape. She’s only eleven, but she’s coming so far with her magic, and I couldn’t be mor
