Odelle and Jessa sat in one of the deserted rooms in the big house, Odelle used the bluebell flames to illuminate the dark room and Jessa couldn’t help but stare too much at them, in awe of what her older sister could do. Today was Gisselle’s birthday, everyone either went into hiding or buried themselves with excessive tasks around the house to avoid the subject. Ever since Jessa could remember, Gisselle never came to the manor, she only knew her face from the photos her mum hid in her drawer.
“How come mum and dad are the only ones allowed to celebrate with Gisselle?” The twelve years old asked, bitterly. An image of a beautifully decorated hall with a giant cake came to mind.
“Oh I’m sure it’s not a celebration.” Odelle replied, her hands stuffed in her pockets and her eyes glued to the floor.
“What is it then?”
“Mourning.”
“But she’s alive.”
“She’s not a witch, though.”
“So what, she’s our sister.”
Odelle kicked the dusty floor and blew off the flames. “They don’t think it matters.”