After the visitation of the Farbs; Agatha became very happy and spent most of her time checking out family history and background.
Finally, she saw something insightful in one of the documents she was holding.
What? She shouted as Satas ran out of the room to her mother.
Mommy, what happened? Satas asked.
Nothing my love, I just read something about grandma and boom, I saw a picture of some humans and she scribbled THE FARBS underneath it.
What? Mom, do you think Grandma knew the Farbs too? Satas asked as she went close to her mom to take a closer look at the book.
Mom, that's true, because the last bedtime story dad told me was about some magical creatures who have spent all their lives in the woods of Kwai Yangji.
At this point, Agatha began missing her husband because he is the only one with the answers to these questions.
Mommy, we can ask Mrs Ridgee right? She was grandma's closest friend before grandma died.
oh, that is true honey, let go to her right now, Agatha said as they departed to Mrs Ridgee's house.
When they got there, Mrs Ridgee narrated every bit of the story to them and told Agatha that as far as Satas have already seen the Farbs, nobody can stop her fate because it's what runs in the Franklin's home.
***
After Agatha's visit to Mrs Ridgee, she began to pay close attention to Satas more than before.
Until one day the unimaginable happened.
Agatha watched her daughter flourish as she met new friends, exchanged stories.
But recently Agatha had noticed something different about her—little things that felt just a bit off. Random flowers would bloom in the grass where Satas walked, and the wind seemed to dance with her laughter as she twirled in the garden.
One rainy afternoon, as the storm raged outside, Satas sat cross-legged on the living room floor, her small hands splayed over an open book. The pages were filled with illustrations of ancient magic, mythical creatures, and spells hidden in ink-blue illustrations. Agatha couldn't help but chuckle lightly, watching her daughter's fascination. "You know, sweetheart, magic isn't real," she said, half-heartedly trying to instill a sense of reality in the girl.
Satas looked up, her face a mask of determination. "But it is, Mama! It's all around us. You just have to know how to see it." She closed the book abruptly, sending a small gust of wind through the living room, stirring the curtains. Agatha's heart jumped slightly; it was strange how suddenly the air had shifted.
A few days later, Agatha entered Satas's room without knocking. She found her daughter standing in front of a mirror, her eyes closed and hands extended, as if conducting an invisible orchestra. The dim light flickered, and a soft hum filled the air. Agatha's breath caught in her throat. She felt an electric pull as though her heart was drawn to what lay beneath Satas's innocent façade.
"Sweetheart?" Agatha ventured, unsure. Satas opened her eyes, and something ancient flickered behind her irises, a depth of knowing that shook Agatha's core.
"Mama, I can show you," Satas whispered, her voice low and ethereal. Before Agatha could respond, her daughter morphed the air around them. Lights sparkled into existence, swirling and twinkling like stars coalescing in a galaxy.
"What is this?" Agatha gasped, stumbling back, but Satas reached out, her small fingers brushing against her mother's arm, grounding her. "It's magic, Mama. It's always been with me. It's always been in our family…"
Agatha's mind raced as fragments of family tales rushed back—her grandmother whispering about gifts handed down through generations, hidden in the folds of time. She had dismissed such stories as foolishness, but now, they felt like pieces of a puzzle she had been blind to for so long.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Agatha asked, yet her voice was laced with awe rather than reproach.
"I didn't know how," Satas replied, her posture softening. "But I could feel it. After you became sad, I wanted to help, and I could feel the magic yearning to come out, to reach you!"
Agatha's heart melted as she realized that Satas had been protecting both of them with her newfound powers, guiding the light back into their home. "But it's dangerous. I don't want you to get hurt," Agatha insisted, kneeling to meet Satas at eye level.
"Magic can be a friend or a foe. But together, we can learn," Satas said, her small face earnest. "We can bring joy back into our lives."
A decision welled up in Agatha, swelling like the tides. Perhaps this discovery was not merely the unveiling of magic; it was an opportunity to reclaim the light they had both lost (Satas' father). "Alright, my brave little sorceress," she said, smiling through her tears. "Let's learn together."
And as the storm outside began to quiet, Satas held her mother's hands, their laughter ringing through the walls like bells, Satas connecting the mundane to the extraordinary . The first spark of magic had ignited in their hearts, binding them anew as they embarked on a journey into the unknown, Satas was beginning to embrace her true legacy—one of light, love, and infinite wonder.