My eyes flickered open, blinking the depths of sleep from my vision.

“Miss Isabella!” Nigels voice drifted up the stairs as I tumbled from my bed, tangled up in the sheets and pulling a satin pillow to the ground. For a split second, I allowed myself a smile born from rebellion before straightening my back, untangling myself from the sheets and preparing to make an appearance downstairs.

What on earth is she doing up there?

“I'll be down in a moment, mother.” I called. It wasn't as though I were late, simply a tiny bit less early.

I had slipped into a simple blue dress to my knees, blonde hair curled into a bun as I left my bedroom.

“Morning.” I trilled to Nigel as I passed him on the stairs.

Make the beds. Dishes. Dusting, oh and the shopping too, call the tutor, make the tea...

“Oh, good morning, miss Isabella.” He smiled politely at me, bowing his head, before continuing on up the stairs, presumably to make the beds. Strange. He was usually much more focussed: he'd never had to list tasks before. I shrugged it off, tipping my head back as I made my descent.

“Isabella, there you are!” Mother ushered me into the kitchen, and as I looked around, taking in the bundles of fabric, the tools of my mothers trade laying across the table, the piles and piles of drawings all featuring me, I felt my hopes for the day dissolve into nothingness.

“Come on, I need you to try this on.”

“Alright, mother.”

So ungracious

Even to my ears, I knew I'd sounded bored, uninterested, like a petulant child, but I hadn't expected her to comment on it. “What was that, mother?” I asked, one slender eyebrow raised.

“Nothing, dear.” She glanced up from her measuring tape that she had wrapped around my waist. “I didn't say a word.”

A frown appeared on my face. She had called me ungracious. I'd heard her.

“Oh, Bella darling, don't frown like that, you'll ruin your good looks.”

Blue or purple?

“Purple.” I answered

“Pardon?”

“The dress? You should go for the purple.”

“That's just what I was thinking.” She smiled. “Good eye.”

“I...know. You just asked me...?”

“I didn't ask you anything. Sweetheart, are you ok?”

I blinked at her a few times. What was going on? I had heard her voice, and this wasn't the first occasion I'd heard her only for her to insist that she hadn't uttered a word.

“I'm... fine, I think.” I shook my head to clear it, then looked up again. “Definitely purple?”

“Definitely purple.” My mother answered, clicking her fingers and causing the cream fabric at her fingertips to transform, going from the colour of milk being stirred into a cappuccino to a deep, shimmering purple.

The entirety of the next hour consisted of mother and I together in the kitchen, I trying on varying colours of varying dresses, she deciding which looked best on me, and which I couldn't quite pull off – those ones accompanied by a fair few catty comments which I decided it would be best to ignore.

“Your father is having a meeting in the dining room in a few hours. Could you fetch Nigel for me, please? He and Maggie need to get the room cleaned and prepare the food.”

“Of course, mother.” I replied, barely able to keep my voice level. I don't know what had gotten into her today. First she seemed unaware that she had been talking, then had come the disparaging comments, which while I had managed not to react to them in my mothers presence, I cannot deny that they hurt, and now she was ordering me around like a servant simply because father was having a meeting? His meetings were not an uncommon occurrence. He is a King, meetings come with that kind of responsibility. But if mother wished me to fetch Nigel, fetch Nigel I must.

I eventually found him in my bedroom, duster in hand. I had to stifle a giggle at the site of this six foot tall man wandering around my room with a pink fluffy duster.

“Oh, Nigel, there's no need.” I tried to assure him. “Honestly, the amount of housework mother and father have you do is unbelievable.”

“I don't mind, Miss Isabella. They pay me well for it. I could do worse than serving the King and Queen of this country.”

“Of course.” I murmured. As with most of the workers in the castle, I was unaware of exactly how much Nigel was paid, although I knew it was a fair number higher than what Maggie, the cook, was paid. “Mother wishes to see you downstairs to prepare for one of fathers meetings.”

He blanched, silent for a moment, and then, “I'll be down in a moment, Miss Isabella.”

“Nigel?” All of a sudden, I was overwhelmed by a splitting pain, cracking across my forehead, forcing it's way behind my eyes as though someone were hammering at my head over and over with an anvil. I clutched my hands to my face, blindly seeking the comfort of my couch, and as I sank down onto it, Nigels arm on my elbow, steadying me, comforting me, I managed to discern pictures from the pain. Unimaginable scenes, vast fields of people, thunderbolts shooting across the sky, flames licking at the grass, vines shooting from the ground to swallow people whole, screams of terror suffocating the air. And then I saw Nigel, though whether it were in my mind or in reality I could not tell. All I knew was that he was very afraid and he was trying to tell me something. Just then, I was engulfed in darkness, and the last thing I was fully aware of was Nigels hands on either side of my face. I was in safe hands, both literally and figuratively.

“I can't heal her.”

“What do you mean you can't heal her? Why do you think we hired you? What is the point of healing power if it only works sometimes?”

Rude. I tried. Not my fault.

“I mean, Madame Elizabeth, that whatever is wrong is not medical.”

“If not medical, then what is it, Nigel? What non-medical reason could cause my daughter to pass out?”

“Exhaustion?” He suggested.

“I don't see how, she barely leaves the house.”

My fault.

Groggily, I raised my head from the mass of pillows that had been placed beneath me. “Whass going on?” My head felt heavy, almost as though while I were asleep someone had encased it in concrete.

“You passed out, honey.”

“I gathered that.” I murmured, rubbing at my eyes.

“Isabella.” The warning note was all I needed.

“Sorry, mother. I meant to ask why I passed out.”

“Well...” She bit her lip, a very unqueenly thing to do. “Nigel and I aren't sure.”

“But-”

“My powers can only be used for medical purposes, Miss Isabella. Whatever happened to you, it has nothing to do with your medical health. Could you perhaps explain how you felt before you collapsed?”

“Oh, yeah that's easy.” However, when I actually tried to think about it, it wasn't easy. Not at all. I could still feel a slight pounding at my temples, which certainly wasn't helping matters. “Oh, yes.” I had caught a thread at the edges of my thoughts and I was clinging on desperately, reeling myself back in. “I was coming to fetch you for mother, Nigel, to prepare for fathers meeting, remember?” When he nodded, I continued. “But you turned pale and when I tried to ask what was wrong, I got this horrific headache and...” Should I tell them about that vision? Surely, even in a world where everyone has a power, having visions was strange?

“And?” Nigel prompted, his wrinkled eyes kind.

“And... I had a vision of, well, it looked like a battlefield.”

“Could you describe it to me, Miss Isabella?”

“There were elemental powers, electricity and fire and grass, and people screaming, so terrified. It was awful.”

As I spoke, Nigels eyes darkened, swimming with ghosts. When I had finished my story, he gave me a curt nod, before being dragged off by mother, whispers following them away. I was left alone on the bed – apparently, I had been moved from the couch after fainting – the sweet scent of honeysuckle enveloping me.

Worry. A vision of the Elemental War. Her power? Magic plans.

What was going on? Nigel and mother were obviously trying to be secretive, but even from this distance I seemed able to hear bits and pieces of their conversation. With a great deal of effort, I cast my mind back to learning History with my tutor: specifically the topic of the Elemental War. We hadn't ever gone into detail over why it began or how it was resolved, but I knew the basics. The Elemental powers had been angry because a law had been passed proclaiming them unfit to work in many different types of jobs, when in fact many Elementals were more than capable of holding those jobs, and had been doing so for years. When the current King – my grandfather – had refused to listen to them, they had split from the rest of the Powers and formed an army, declaring war against the monarchy. In the end, the Elementals lost, but many were lost that day, and it made enough of an impact that in the end, my grandfather, King Henry II had given in, and allowed them their privileges back. There was more to it than that, of course, but as I mentioned, I only know the basics.

“Isabella.” Somehow Nigel had managed to get from the other side of the room to my bedside in seconds without me noticing, I'd been so lost in my own thoughts, so busy trying to decipher the parts of the conversation that I'd heard, that I'd completely forgotten to be alert and awake in the real world.

“Yes, Nigel?”

“I believe that what you saw in your vision was a scene from the Elemental War.” I'd been correct! “In fact, it sounds as though you were seeing the Elemental War as it was when I was a part of it.”

“You were in the war?”

“I had no choice, Miss Isabella.” His voice was quiet. “Everyone was in the war.”

“But... how could I have been seeing that? I've never seen a picture of it, nevermind experienced anything remotely similar.”

A tiny hint of a smile twinged at his lips. “Your power.”

“Your power might finally be here!” Mother joined in, her face lit up.

“My power is having war flashbacks?” I muttered, rolling my eyes. Yet, a course of excitement was buzzing through my veins, a strange feeling as though I could feel the excitement, albeit it wasn't quite my excitement I was feeling.

“No, of course not.” Mother tutted. “And don't roll your eyes, dear. It makes you look like a whiny little child.”

“If it isn't war flashbacks, what is it?”

“Madame Elizabeth mentioned that earlier you were answering her questions that she hadn't yet asked, and seemed able to know her opinions before she had spoken them. Is this true?”

“I...” Was it true? I knew that mother had been acting strangely, but had I been answering questions that hadn't been asked? And the opinions... it would certainly explain the catty comments. “Yes. It's true.”

“I believe you have the power of mind reading.”

“Mind reading?” Now I had real excitement pumping not only through my veins, but continuing on to vibrate through my bones, covering every inch of my body. I was a mind reader? I'd been waiting for my power for years. All the other girls in the town that had been born in the same year as I had received their powers years ago, and here was I, the Princess of Powers, sitting at home without a power of my own. If I'm being honest, I'd begun to suspect that I was an anomaly, a blip in society, someone who didn't have a power. For a girl to reach the age of 17 and to not have received her power was almost unheard of, but now here it was and not only did I have a power but I had one of the most rare and powerful ever heard of.

“Of course, without having had training, it will be difficult for you to accurately read anyone's mind, but emotions and snippets and even little visions should be accessible. It also explains the fainting. If you can't control a Mental power, it drains you as you use it – and without training, you'll be using it constantly – which would cause headaches and fainting.”

“So the vision of the war was your thoughts?” I asked, “But why were you thinking about it?”

“I was just reminded of it momentarily, Miss Isabella.” Nigel smiled, but the smile did not reach his soft eyes as it usually did and even without my power I could tell that he was lying to me. Now that I was aware of what was going on, I could distinguish that the feelings of guilt and anguish I was experiencing were truly belonging to Nigel and I was simply experiencing them second hand through his mind.

I waited until mother had bustled from the room, proclaiming a need to alert Maggie that fathers visitor had arrived before saying, “Please don't lie to me, Nigel.”

His expression froze. “You're going to be using this power against me forever, aren't you Miss Isabella?”

I allowed myself a slight smile, but this was business. Why would the war be worrying Nigel now, when we'd been at peace with, well, everyone ever since my father had taken over as King.

“I'm sorry, Miss Isabella. I can't tell you anything.” Even so, he held eye contact with me, almost as though he wished he could tell me. And then I got it. He couldn't tell me, but if I got a hold on my powers, then he could transmit it to me. Concentrating, I focussed on Nigel, looking into his eyes and thinking about getting into his head.

Magic faction causing trouble.

“Clumsy execution, but well done, Miss.”

“Thank you, Nigel.” I took the compliment, giggling. Clearly I'd been a little too forthright in prying within his mind, but I'd gotten my information.

“What is the magic faction doing?” I asked.

“I really do think you should ask your father about that.”

“They're trying to go to war, aren't they? But what for?”

“Princess Isabella... Some day you will make a good queen, and when that day comes, should I still be in your service, I shall tell you everything I know, but until that day arrives, you must ask your father about matters of politics.”

“Oh, alright Nigel. ” We shared a smile, before “Thank you Nigel. For trying to heal me, and for letting me practice on you.”

The house was too quiet. I missed the slow, shuffling steps. The brush of heavy furs against carpet. I missed the scent of cinnamon flooding the house. I missed the apple pie with ice cream and whipped cream on top that we used to eat every Saturday without fail. I missed practicing together, chanting incantations and drawing power from one another. I missed helping to sort herbs. I missed using those herbs within potions. I missed shopping and baking and learning and loving.

“Mrow.”

Grans cat, Leif pushed his head against my hand, begging to be petted, wanting nothing more than to curl up beside me and steal my warmth.

“You miss her too, huh?”

He meowed again, pushing his paws into my side as he climbed over my to rest on my chest, curling up and lying down there, his tail tickling my nose.

“Yeah.” I sighed. I had to do something. I had to fix the house, make it mine, make it happy, make it good. Slowly, I pulled myself up, holding Leif to me as I did so to ensure he wouldn't fall. With a flick of my hands, the curtains swept open, revealing the harsh sunlight from outside and allowing the room to become flooded with light. On any ordinary day I would love this – I relished the sun, it boosted my magic, plus it was lovely to sunbathe in the warmth – but today I just wasn't in the mood. All I could think about was the days where Gran and I had stood in the garden, using the power of the sunlight to bring the flowers and trees in the garden into full bloom. It was beautiful. Everything Gran had made was beautiful. She was an expert in beauty: blooming flowers, magicking up hairstyles, changing hair colours. Gran... It was unbelievable to think that it had been three weeks since she had died.

“Come on, Lief.” I murmured, hugging the black cat and heading through to the kitchen. “I guess we should eat.”

He responded by leaping from my hands and onto the kitchen counter to paw at the nutella.

“You want some?” I offered it to him, uncapping the jar and holding out a fingerful of the delicious chocolatey substance. Once he had licked all of it from my finger, I decided I may as well have some too. But I needed breakfast too. Looking in the fridge proved to be fruitless: I'd been too busy grieving to go shopping so we had nothing in. It was times like these that I wished I were a more accomplished Caster. If I knew how to conjure objects that would be great. Sure, it would be stealing (you can't produce something from nothing, after all) as I don't know anywhere other than shops that stock the foods I like, but it would be so much more convenient than having to go out every few days to stock up on food that would all be gone in a matter of days anyway.

Finally, I found a packet of crisps that wasn't out of date, and instead of having a proper breakfast, Lief and I ate some crisps and had a few more fingerfulls of nutella. I'd have to get myself together if I wanted to live a proper life. Nevermind that, I'd have to get myself together if I wanted people to allow me to have a proper life. Otherwise, someone would turn up and either move in with me, or force me to move in with them. As much as I like people, I wanted to stay in Grans house, just Lief and me, at least for a little while longer.

It wasn't long before I decided that maybe it might be a good idea to leave the house. I hadn't been outside in a while and people might be getting worried, plus, there was the food dilemma. There was no way I could eat crisps and nutella for breakfast every morning. And so, as I plodded up the stairs, I envisioned in my mind the clothes I would be wearing that day, and sure enough, when I reached my bedroom, there they were hovering in the middle of the room. For the first time in three weeks, I smiled. Evidently, I was getting good at separating my emotions from my simple magic. In no time at all, I was dressed and ready to leave, my dark hair curling down my back, and my green eyes heavily outlined in black to make them pop. Holding Lief up to my face in the mirror, I had a slight giggle at the similarities between us, two pairs of shocking green eyes staring back at me. But unlike me, who could barely even hold a smile for more than a few seconds, Lief spent his time winding around my neck and across my shoulders, purring the whole time. He wouldn't leave even when I reached the front door, so with a shrug, I brought him with me. The shopkeeper wouldn't mind, I hoped. He let other people in with animals, although they were always leashed. But when I reached the local shop, I realized my worries were unfounded. He simply didn't care that Lief had joined me on my trip. In fact, all he cared about was giving me special offers, discounts, free samples. I didn't want his pity, but I was grateful. It was nice to feel cared about. And anyway, who was I to turn down cheap produce? It meant that, with the money I had on me, I was able to buy at least a weeks worth of 'proper' food – eggs, and bread and milk and potatoes and tomatoes and meat – and I even managed to throw in a few treats – more nutella, some ice cream, chocolate bars and bon bons, plus some cat treats for Lief.

The cat continued to wind himself around my neck until well after we'd left the shop, where he then dropped to the floor, more in favour of exploring the ground at his feet, pouncing after butterflies and pushing aside flowers with his nose.

“It's nice out, isn't it?”

“It's beautiful.” came a voice from my left: a boy around my age, maybe a little older. I vaguely recognized him from school. He was watching Lief and I, curious expression on his face as he surveyed the scene. Lief looked up at me, green eyes carefully locked on mine as though gauging my reaction before reacting himself.

“I guess it is.” I finally responded.

An awkward silence filled the air, this stranger and I staring quietly at one another.

“About your gran...” he began.

“No. Don't.”

“I just wanted to say I'm sorry that she's gone.”

“I said don't.” That was it. I could random strangers talking to me – I enjoyed it actually. People were lovely most of the time. But I couldn't do sympathy. I didn't want sympathy, I'd wallowed in self pity long enough. I didn't need any pity from him! And so, I turned and ran.

When I reached home, tears were streaming down my face, staining my pale skin with silver scars. Lief streaked in front of me, disappearing into the kitchen window, the last glimpse of him being a flash of white as his tail whipped out of sight. As I slammed the door shut behind me, I heard a crash. I didn't care. I was just so overcome with anger. Why did everyone seem to think I was this delicate little flower? Some angel that needed protecting. I was fine. A little upset about my gran dying, maybe, but isn't that natural? And surely, if someone is upset about something, the way to make them not upset is not to keep bringing up the thing that is making them sad? Before I knew what was happening, I was in my grans bedroom, as though drawn there by something. My anger surged. I didn't want to be here. I wanted to be anywhere but here. In a flash of pure, hot rage, I let out a scream, pounding at the cupboards, my fists flying. Anything to get rid of this feeling, this rage. I didn't want it. What did I have to be angry about? Some guy in the street? Yeah, like he deserved my anger. My usual techniques weren't working. Trying to convince myself I had no reason to be angry was doing nothing, just causing me more reason to be angry at myself. In the end, the thing that made me stop was a loud thump coming from the cupboard in front of me. The red haze subsided and my vision cleared. All of a sudden I was very aware of everything around me. I glanced around to find the cushions laying everywhere, curtains ripped from the wall, piles of blankets strewn across the floor. Had I done that? I shuddered. I was just so glad I had lost control in an enclosed area, not out in the street where I may have hurt people. But anyway, what had I made fall inside the cupboard? I yanked the door opened to find a thick, dusty old book laying at the bottom, a note slipping from one side of it. My hands reached for the note, almost without my permission. My mind was telling me not to touch this book, that it wasn't mine, that Gran hadn't told me about it for a reason. But when I read through that note, I realized exactly why:

Dearest Ivy,

If you are reading this, then I am in a better place. I hope you are coping well, and have managed to continue your life without me. If not, then I hope that with the help of this gift, you will be able to do so.

This book has been in the family for generations, and was supposed to go to your mother when she was ready to eventually be passed onto you. Now, it is I who is passing it to you.

It contains a great list of spells and potions, both good and bad, with directions on how to produce them. Do with it what you will, the only advice I can give is to use it well. As long as you are happy with your choices, I am happy with you.

Love and kisses,

Grandma

The family spellbook? I'd heard rumours of some insanely powerful families owning one of these, but had never once even briefly imagined that our family had even the possibility of being one of them. Most people learned spells and potions through school, or by word of mouth, or by a lucky combination of ingredients and coincidence. How amazing was this? Maybe... Just maybe, I would be able to cope. And maybe, like gran had said in her note, maybe it would be this database of magic that would help me through.

I had to look through it now. I had to see what it contained, what spells I could do, what ingredients I needed – whether to make potions or to draw power from – what potions I could make, what I could do with this spark available at my fingertips. So I sprinted downstairs, expecting the shambles I had caused to be confined to grands room. It was not. In fact, almost the entire house had been blown to pieces. Clearly, I was much, much stronger than I had ever anticipated. I couldn't lose control again. Not if, after just a comment by some guy, I had managed to tear furniture to shreds, rip photos from the wall, knock over the cough, and all without even realizing I was doing so. I'd have to be much more careful in future. If not, I'd be moving house before I was quite ready to.

“Charley, get your brothers, will you?”

“On it.” I called back. They'd be out in the field practicing their powers as per usual: something I'd never be able to join in with. Stupid power allocation. Why did they get to have physical powers? Better yet, why was I stuck with a shitty service power like the one I had? It wasn't even as though it was a halepful power like healing or amnplifying. No, I was stuck with this useless mess of a power.

“Hey, Charley, ready to give me a tattoo yet?”

“Fuck up, Brandon.”

His answer was a laugh and to show off how much better he was than me by kicking the football out of the pitch and into the garden of a house two streets away.

“Mum says you've to come in.” I called, hesitating at the edge of the field. Whether from fear of getting hit, or fear of the taunting and jeering that came from my own siblings, I didn't know.

“Can we finish the game?”

“No. Dinners ready. Hurry it up, idiots!”

That was all I had to say on the subject. They might be happy to miss dinner, but I wasn't. Especially not today: mum'd been planning tonights food for weeks. It was going to be amazing!

“They say they're coming.” I murmured as I slipped into my seat at the table, taking the pile of plates heaped in the middle and setting them at each of the seven seats, then sharing out cutlery, and finally giving out cups.

“Good. Your dad will be home soon, and then we can eat. Charley, would you mind pouring drinks?”

“No problem.” I stood, taking the jug with me to fill it to the brim with water, and then, hands shaking from the weight of the water filled jug, brought it back to the table ti pour everyone a glass of water. That was when the boys traipsed in, mud plastering their bodies from head to toe, footprints following them from the front dfoor to the kitchen, hair sticking up all over the place, bruises blooming up their legs.

“Out!” Mum shouted, brandishing a wooden spoon at Brandom as he set foot in the kitchen. “Get cleaned up and get back down here. Five minutes.”

“But mum-”

“Don't 'but mum' me, get yourselves cleaned up.”

When the boys returned, they were scrubbed pink, not a speck of dirt present on their pale skin. Brandon sat himself down beside me, pulling the littlest one, Skylar up into the seat beside him. Skylar was the only one of us to not yet have discovered his power. In a way, I envied him. I wish I could go back to the days where I'd anticipated receiving mine, wondering what it would be, how it would help, how amazing I would become. It was weird thinking back to my childhood. All those days spent playing football with Brandon and our friends, skateboarding, swimming in the lake. All of that was gone now. With Brandon having a physical power – the ability to have things travel really far(kind of like super strength except it only works for throwing or kicking things) – there was no point in playing any sports with him. I had no chance in hell of even coming close to winning, so why bother? The other kids were ok. Some of them had Mental powers and would steal the ball with their telekinesis, or they had speed so would simply stop Brandon from getting to it in the first place. But me and the other Service power kids? Sports wasn't a viable option anymore. Suppressing a sigh, I glanced down at my arm where the tiny, wonky crown was etched into the area just below my thunmb bone, around the area where the wrist begins. If I had to all of a sudden get the ability to give tattoos to people just by drawing on them, couldn't it have been when I was doodling somethhiung xcooler at least? I mean, a crown? What was I thinking? And it looked so shitty. I don't draw. At all. I can't draw. That was what made this all the worse. If I could draw even semi decently then maybe it wouldn't be such a curse, but who wants a tattoo artist who can't even draw? Life threw me a bit of a curve ball there, right? Stupid powerw. Stupid categories. Stiupid drawing.

The worst part about it was that as soon as wer'd discovered that this was my power, Brandom had asked for a tattoo, but when I'd tried to draw a baseball on his leg, as soon as he'd went for a shower the next morning, it had washed off. In other words, I'd discovered my shitty ass power of tattoo artistry and then straight away it had stopped working and I'd been l;eft with a squinty crown on my arm with no way of removing it other than to literally acid off the skin. Fun, huh?

“Have you heard about the Magics?”

That was dad. As per, he was in and out of the house without so much as a hello or goodbye, simply starting a conversation as soon as he arrived, expecting everyone to join in.

“No, what's happened?” Mum asked, doling out servings of mashed potatoes onto each of the seven plates.

“Are they causing trouble again?” Brandon asked, reaching forwards for a slice of bread from the basket.

“In a way.” Dad replied, taking his place at the head of the table. “From what the papers say, the King Orion is causing discontent with us in his country. Apparently, we've been breaching the bhorder – something I can assure you isn't true. Your uncle works on the borders. No one has crossed in months.”

“Why would they lie about that?” I chipped in.

“Who knows?”

The oldest brother after myself and Brandon – Jamie - stood as dad continued talking so that he could help mum carry the plates over to the table.

“All I can tell you, Charley, is that it can't be good. Their King has been looking for an excuse to cause some conflict for a long time.”

“But why?” Skylar asked, his child hands gripping his fork and knife tightly. “Why they want to hurt us?”

Dad shrugged, reaching forwards for his plate. “They all may not, it may just be the King who still harbours a grudge. But there hasn't been true hatred between the magics and the powers for many years. Not since the Elemental War.”

“Now, let's not have talk of war at the dinner table, please. And especially not with the young ones present.” Mum, always the diplomat, always wanting to protect the little ones from hearing any unpleasantries, It was useless. I knew from experience that as soon as you entered school, you heard all of yhe unpleasantiries. That was how I'd learnt most of the knowledge I'd kept with me to this day.

“But mumma, I wanna hear about the war.” Skylar protested, banging his fist onto the table.

“Instead, why don't we talk about how your mother managed to make this delicious meal?” Dad suggested. “I bet you've been storing this up for months.”

Mum beamed, her face turning as red as the tomato ketchup she'd left out for Skylar. “I just wanted you all to have a nice meal before school pulls us all in different directions again.”

“Thanks, mum.” I murmured, knowing as well as she did that what she truly meant was that she wanted us to have a meal together before three of the boys went off to Physical school, and I solely went to join Service School. Alrthough how I was supposed to learn to control a power that doesn't even work properly is beyond me.

“Yeah, mum. This was really kind of you.” Brandon smiled, sticking a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“Well, once you all go off to school, we won't need to buy as much food – there'll only be the three of us – so I thought I may as well use up as much of it as I could, not let anything go to waste.”

The tantalizing scent drifting towards me from my own plate was almost too much to bear. It had been so long since we'd all eaten a proper meal: a real dinner, something with more than just a slice of meat and a few carrot slices. Money was hard to come by when your powers weren't, well, powerful. But this was amazing. A tender chunk of meat, fluffy clouds of mashed potatoes, the orange carrots that supposedly allowed you to see in the dark -seomthign I'd whole heartedly believed as a child and would eat as many carrots as possible in order to sneak into Brandons room to play pranks on him without being caught by the tell tale giveaway of the light of a torch – and even a sprig of broccolli. At first I watched as Skylar pushed the miniature tree around his plate, wondering whether or not to eat it, whether it was safe to eat, presumably wondering whether it would taste the way tree bark did from that one time when he had tried to eat that, but when he saw Brandon and I popping the vegetable into our mouths, he promptly followed suit. Mum smiled round at us all as a warm blanket of silence covered the table, all seven of us wolfing down the food she had prepared, filling our shrunken bellies with food we were rarely gifted.

This is what family is. Not the stupid shit they feed you about how your faction is your family. The Service Powers will never be my family. My family will always be these six people, sitting together, talking about politics and war and current events, while simultaneously complimenting my mums cooking and trying to keep Skylar entertained at the dinner table. Even if my brothers did torment me senselessly and leave me out of games, they would always be my brothers and I would never willingly leave them.