In the dim light of a single, flickering lantern, a mother sat in the corner of a small cottage, lovingly combing through the tangles of her daughter's long, dark hair, just as she would do every night. And as she combed, the mother hummed a familiar lullaby to the little girl, lilting with the voice of a nightingale, just as she would do every night. The song was a tune without words, but each note seemed punctuated with a spark of magic. And the little girl never knew if it was her imagination, or if there really was magic in the song.
"Mama?" the little girl finally asked, immediately feeling a small pang of guilt for having interrupted her mother's beautiful, haunting melody.
"Yes, my darling?" The mother cooed.
"The song you always hum... why doesn't it have any words?" The girl crinkled up her little freckled nose, watching her feet as she kicked her legs back and forth over the edge of the stool, being too small to yet reach the floor.
"Ah, that's because nobody remembers the words," the mother answered softly. "That tune has been passed down in our family for many generations. My mother sang it to me when I was your age, and her mother's mother sang it to her, and so on. Yes, it's true that once there were words to the song. But the words have long since been lost... stolen away..." The last part she said in almost a whisper. But the little girl heard it.
"Stolen?!" The child exclaimed, brow furrowing with confusion. "But... But, how can words be stolen?"
"That is a story for another day, my love. In time, I will tell you more. Perhaps when you are a little older."
"HOW much older?!" The girl insisted.
"Now, now. You'll know when it is time. But that is enough questions for tonight. I've finished combing your hair, so it is time for bed." The mother sat the wooden comb gently down onto the side table next to them, smiling softly down at her tiny daughter who was much smaller than she should have been for her five years.
"Awwww," the little girl whined in protest. She didn't want to wait until she was older. She wanted to know everything now. She wanted to know all about the family secrets her mother worked so hard to shelter her from, but that she was already so acutely aware of.
But still the girl obeyed, clambering down off the stool in her long, white nightgown, and following her mother over to the feather mattress which was tucked into another corner of the cottage. Then the two climbed underneath the downy quilt, settling down for the night. But before resting her head on the pillow, the mother flicked her wrist, and the flame in the lantern across the room was snuffed out, leaving a thin trail of smoke in its place rising up from the blackened quick. The fire had been put out as if by magic.
Maybe it was magic...
Immediately, the room was bathed in the silvery glow of a full moon shining in through the window above the bed.
"Woah!" The little girl gasped, watching her mother with wide, violet eyes that shimmered. "How did you do that?!"
"Shhhh," the mother hushed, one finger pressed to her mischievous, smiling lips. "I'll tell you when you're older."
"Aw, you always say that!" The little girl stuck out her lip in a pout.
The mother's soft laughter was like chimes ringing in a gentle breeze. "The less you know, the better. Once your abilities awaken, it will be time. But until then, this is our little secret, alright?"
The little girl didn't know what any of those words truly meant, but she nodded dejectedly, and slid down under the covers to sulk a bit longer. The mother followed suit, wrapping her arms around the child's small body in a warm embrace.
"Goodnight, my angel," the mother said. "I love you so much."
"I love you too, mama," the little girl mumbled glumly, covers pulled up over her rosy, round cheeks.
"I love you more than all the jewels and riches on earth," the mother said.
"Well, I love you more than all the stars in the sky," the little girl replied, already forgetting that she was upset. She sat up in bed, now determined to win what she thought was a new competition.
"I love you more than there are grains of sand on the beach," the mother's eyes twinkled.
"Yeah?! Well... Well I love you more than all of those things combined... times infinity!" With that, the little girl rested her tiny fists firmly on her sides in triumph.
"Well, I can't beat that," the mother smiled warmly, gently running her slender fingers through strands of her daughter's long hair. "You win."
The girl "humphed" with pride before a large yawn forced her mouth wide open, bringing tears glittering to her lashes, which she swiped away at fiercely. Then, she laid down again, nuzzling her head underneath the crook of her mother's neck.
"Goodnight," the mother whispered, but the girl had not fallen asleep yet.
Instead, she lay quietly in the stillness of the night, mulling over the words everything that her mother had told her earlier. After a few moments of silence, she spoke again.
"Mama?"
"Hmm?" The mother's voice was already groggy with sleep.
"When I grow up," the little girl decided with conviction, "I want to help you get the words back. The stolen words to your song."
"You do?"
The girl nodded her little brunette head firmly.
"Do you know what? I believe that you can. I believe you can do anything you set your mind to, my strong, brave, determined girl. You're a Blackmoore. You're more capable than you will ever know, my darling. But Blackmoore or not, you're my little Euphemia first and foremost. And that alone is all you ever need to be."
The mother placed a gentle kiss on the little girl's forehead, and then the two drifted off to dreamland.