KEEPERS OF ORACULUS

Maeve’s tiny voice slices through a decade-long silence, ruffling supine leaves and awakening retired medicine flowers.

“Moooom. Dad?,” she shouts, as she fumbles her way through the midday twilight, now synonymous with Oraculus Forest.

Behind her, dried-up vines yawn, faintly remembering their chlorophyllous glory days. An excited needlepoint ivy, starved of attention reaches for Maeve’s foot, which sends the child tumbling into a pile of iridescent scales and razor-sharp teeth.

Something tickles my tail, stirring me from slumber. I shake it off. She goes flying into a bed of dormant bioluminescent moss, which faintly shimmers under the brunt of her weight.

I’d love to say that I make a good first impression but being all scales, teeth, and breath of fire tends to send mortals running for the hills. But not Maeve. She dusts off her dress and walks right up to me, no more than three feet tall.

“Pardon me, dragon. Have you seen my mom and dad?”

Taken aback by her courage and unsure whether my voice still works, I search for my words.

“Dex, Keeper of the Magic, at your service. I’m afraid I haven’t seen anyone in years. Who are your parents?,” but before she can respond, her glowing amulet answers my question—the familiar pendant that fastens itself around the neck of the Moonstone clan’s matriarch. She’s no mortal.

“Cecilia and Darren Moonstone,” she utters proudly.

“Where did you get that amulet?,” I ask

“It’s my mother’s. She never takes it off but when I woke up this morning, I was wearing it, and my parents were gone. Do you know where they went?”

I swallow the lump in my throat as I think of the best way to tell her that she belongs to the forest now.

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She strokes the trunk of a sparkling sequoia tree, its lemony scent floating through the air like dried dandelions granting wishes. She pulls out one of her vials and bottles the fragrance dancing with the breeze.

“Why can’t I leave the forest?,” Maeve whines, her ebony hair thick and wild as the tangled wisterias who helped raise her.

“I’ve told you, sweet child, it’s not safe out there for our kind.”

“I’m not a child anymore,” she protests. “Stop treating me like one.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. But that doesn’t mean you’re equipped to leave Oraculus. You have no idea what dangers lurk beyond this canopy. Magic can’t protect you in the land of non-believers.”

“I can protect myself,” she proclaims, whipping her sword through the air in one dramatic fell swoop.

“Maeve, it’s not safe. I’m not going to say it again,” I huff

She mopes off into the forest, her signature trail of glitter betraying her desire for stealth.

I crumble into the ground beneath me. She’s relentless, this little girl I raised, now as strong-willed as her mother. She’s been asking to leave the forest for a few months now and I never know how much to tell her to keep her safe without breaking her heart.

The truth is they don’t want us. The Eglissius know well that their reign is dependent upon the people’s ignorance of their own power. So they keep it just out of reach, a cookie jar of untapped possibility on a forbidden top shelf. They know that anyone who tastes even just a crumb of magic remembers that they themselves are magicians—and once they’ve remembered, they cannot be controlled.

That’s why they collected every last bit of it, pried it out of the people’s fearful hands, then exiled it here to Oraculus Forest and turned off the sun. They imagined it would soon wither away to nothingness in the shadows but the flora and fauna kept it alive.

Some of the townspeople stood with us on the day the darkness descended. They were ostracised, called crazy, worshippers of Satan. The word “witches” was weaponised, as if it were a loathsome thing to be. Some were banished, chased out of their own homes never to be seen again. Simply for holding onto their own power, for refusing to give it away to anyone but themselves. And from then on, if anyone dared sparkle too fiercely, they were reduced to ashes right in the middle of the town square, extinguished like a thunderstorm bonfire—a warning nailed to the memories of those who might be so bold.

Just a glimpse of my Maeve would threaten their entire way of life. Her, with her flying and shimmering and healing any ailment with her pocket elixirs. She shines so bright, they’d spot her from a mile away. Make an example of her. Destroy her potions. She is the prohibited reminder of who the people could be, a cannon ball through the institution The Eglissius worked so hard to establish. So we wait here, under the cover of darkness. We wait until the people remember their power. Until it’s safe for Maeve, for us to be seen. But I can never say it. How do I say to a being of such purity: “They killed your parents and they’ll kill you too?”

I’m picking liberty caps from the ground beside me, a peace offering for her, when my younger brother Macklyn comes bursting through the trees:

“It’s Maeve. She’s gone. Vanished into the moonless night,” he shrieks.

Maybe I should have told her.

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She tries to sneak in unnoticed, her pockets bursting with honeysuckle and bog asphodels, but I tower over her, a torch-light over her defiance.

“Why did you leave? What happened? Are you okay?,” I inquire, as I examine her for bumps and bruises.

“I just wanted to see what it was like out there, pick up a few ingredients that only grow with the sun’s kiss. It’s not a big deal. I came back didn’t I? And yes, I swept up the glitter behind me,” she says, planting a kiss on my cheek. For a moment, she’s the little girl in the dress who stumbled into the forest all those years ago. I never could stay mad at her.

“Did anyone see you?”

“I was careful. Don’t worry,” she beams, as she skips between the mugwort bushes, picking bell heather for one of her potions.

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Not an hour later, I look up as a sea of torches floods the horizon. Somebody saw her sparkle.

The flames roll in like ravenous tidal waves, their crashing increasingly furious. Hyacinths and amanitas are roused from their dozing, sharpening leaves and secreting venom. We don’t much care for violence around these parts but the forest will defend itself.

The angry mob surrounds us from every direction. I meet their roars at the forest’s edge, Maeve fearlessly running up beside me.

“I thought we got rid of you lot,” Julian bellows at me, his eyes flashing with the flickering flames. He turns towards Maeve, waving his sword in her direction, “and who do we have here?”

“Maeve. Who are you?”

“It’s not important who I am,” he scoffs, a golden E glimmering on his lapel. “What I’m wondering is what on God’s green earth you’re doing here with these vile creatures?”

“They’re my family,” Maeve responds, unruffled under the crushing weight of his glare.

“Well, you oughta keep better company, kid. Now step aside. We’ve got some unfinished business to tend to.”

With a snap of his fingers, an explosion of fury surges through Oraculus. Daggers dash through the forest like hell-bound comets. The roots of sycamores whip weapons out of hands. Blades slash through foliage that bleeds violet. Flowers shoot pollen into burning eyes. The sound of swords scraping weaves my stomach into knots as the smell of screaming freesias fills the air.

Men charge towards Macklyn, throwing chains around his neck, their rattling like a prisoner’s cup against dungeon bars. I rush towards them to free my brother but I’m outnumbered. Chains crash over me. I thrash under the cold force of their heaving, spitting sparks instead of flames.

Julian saunters towards me, a wicked smile painted across his face. “In the name of Eglissius, I slay you once and for all, dragon. There will be no more magic poisoning this land.”

He swings his sharpened blade towards me but stinging nettles climb up his legs and take him out at the knees. He cries under the crack of his tibia crashing onto jagged limestone.

Maeve comes racing towards him, sword drawn, its shiny tip raising his chin towards her. Her Moonstone amulet glimmers as Julian meets her gaze.

“Ahhh, a Moonstone. I should have known. Feisty, just like your mother was, until her very last breath. Well go on then, witch, kill me. Avenge your parents. I’m certain you’ve dreamed of this moment,” he manages, gritting his teeth through the pain. “DO IT ALREADY,” he winces, closing his eyes against his sealed fate.

I watch incredulous as my sweet one takes a knee beside Julian, throws her weapon to the ground. She pulls a glowing potion from her pocket and pours three drops onto his broken leg. A turquoise glow swirls around the fracture, and the whole forest holds its breath. The limb straightens back out and Julian stops his whimpering. She pulls his chin towards her again, this time with the tips of her fingers. “I forgive you. This ends here,” she whispers, as the callous leader softens beneath the velvet of her touch.

The men drop their armour.

The sun rises over Oraculus for the first time in nearly three decades.