Hair was in two braids at the side of her head, one piece overall dress of denim being the centerpiece, with small brown leather boots. They were old, floppy, and dirty. Her face was forcefully cleaned by the Matron. And now, with that black rabbit doll, she peered up at 5 robed adults. They looked like judges.

There were small scratches at her wrists. The Matron had dug her fingernails into her hands and arms trying to wrench that thing from the little girl's arms. It was a chore just to have her placed in the center of that quiet room. A long table of older men and women stroked their chins, and murmured amongst themselves. There were no bandaids to give to this child. She'd just use them all up before the week's end.

Finally, the older woman toward the end of the table spoke, pulling down those thin glasses to peer down at the child.

"You were behind that scene in the park, weren't you?"

The little girl's lips didn't move, and those bright yellow eyes looked into the woman's so intensely. But not a word was uttered.

"Little girl, we know you were involved. No normal person could have done that to pure aluminum. Nor to a living tree. I am told by your guardian that you are more than disruptive."

That wasn't true. She loved tea parties and crowns that she would make out of flowers. Like her mommy taught her. But kids loved to pick on her for that ugly doll of hers. And for being the new lamb on the spit.

Another black robed man spoke up. This one with a distinct mustache. "This isn't fun and games, young lady. Several people were hurt, and without justification."

But there was justification! But they'd never agree with her. Those brows furrowed. A younger man, more handsome, with a gentle pair of blue eyes leaned forward to speak.

"Tell us your name, Child."

"Emlyn Osiris."

The judges all burst into laughter. "Well finally, the girl speaks! I thought she was going to cook an egg on her forehead." They all seemed relieved. But only because she'd been so silent and stoic for so long.

The same younger man smiled to her for a reply, and continued. "Well, Emlyn, we need your help. A terrible catastrophe happened to your fellow orphans today. And to some innocent bystanders. We want to get to the bottom of all this. Will you help us?"

Emlyn liked that man. He spoke to her so nicely, without that condescending tone or without a sharpened nose of persecution.

"Okay. What's your name?" The buttons of that black rabbit doll were crooked, and cracked with their stitch through into the doll itself. It was filthy.

The younger man smiled, showing a sort of compassion that all the other older members of that table had lost with years of cynicism and experience.

"I am Damian LeCroix."

That name made her lower her chin rest on top of the head of her doll. Thought and ponderings were clear in that little girls yellow eyes. As she looked down, she finally looked back up at the long table of robed individuals. Her leg swung gently, and she brought one foot to cross behind the other, and gently bent her knees while pulling her denim dress upwards a little, still holding that doll in her arm. She curtsied.

The younger man smiled, and looked to other robed individuals. "She has manners. We are getting somewhere."

Again the panel of adults came to chuckle in artificial unison. All of them only laughed with one another because of the power they wanted or honed, and how they intended to gain more of it.

Finally, the younger man spoke again. "Well, Emlyn, it's very nice to meet you." He encouraged such a display, and smiled still with a receptive calm that a therapist might exhibit. "Can you tell us what happened today? We have a lot of harmed people that need answers. We need answers. Can you help us?"

Once that curtsy was done, both arms wrapped around the black rabbit doll with yellow-eyed buttons. Her dirty old boots were kicked into each other, her balance teeter tottered as she bashfully looked down. He talked to her so nicely, and she wanted to tell him the truth. So she did.

"I did, Mister Damian."

The others furiously reacted, all of them turning to one another to chat furiously. There was an appalled tone amongst them all. The young man had his head turned to the older man in the center of the table, listening to the man's angry-toned whispers.

Those yellow eyes clutched that rabbit tighter, examining the angry chatter with a quiet that was of a child that knew they did something bad.
Finally, they were quieted for the center robed man to speak.

"This is an outrage. Not only is that utterly impossible, young lady, but unspeakable! You're just a little girl. I'm glad you admitted involvement, but I cannot accept that you did this! Who are you covering for."

Emlyn's eyes turned to that of bright yellow, as she looked down to her rabbit doll. She turned the rabbit around to look at its buttons, and those eyes seemed avid. It was as if she were talking telepathically to that doll. She rotated the doll back, and held it up in the air to them.

"He'll tell you! The kids always throw mud at me, and spit on my toys and tea parties. They are so mean. And none of them wanted to play with me." She held the inanimate doll above her head, swaying him this way and that while she explained. "So I wanted to play with them. But Matron said that it's not good to sink down to their level. So I tried something different. I thought really really hard, and used all my imagination!" She excitedly brought the doll to her arms, beaming in an inward pride and hugged the rabbit doll tightly as her heels bobbed in a gentle hop.

The younger man grinned, and looked to the other robed individuals. "Your imagination? Tell us how you did that?" It was as if his own point that he made during their quieted discussion was coming to fruition. The robed individuals skeptically shook their heads, and interrupted the girl.

"This is preposterous! She is not nearly of age! That level is for that of teenagers! She isn't even 10 yet!" They laughed, and were so sure of themselves. Emlyn didn't like being interrupted, and frowned.

"I'm 6 and a half."

That fact made them laugh harder, except for that younger robed one named Damian. He was grinning, and seemed very intrigued with the girl while others laughed at her so raucously. He spoke, and folded his hands upon the table.

"Emlyn, could you show us how you did it?"

Those eyes turned to a honeyed fourth of July fireworks display. She nodded quickly, the doll being held so tightly in her arms. Her eyes looked around the room, and gave a disgusted look to the Matron. Finally, after a long look-over of what was around her, she closed her eyes. It was as if she were bracing herself for a devastating blow.

And moments later, the many pens rose from the table before them. As did their white sheets of paper. Necklaces of the older women began to lift into the air, and the glasses most of them wore were pulled off of their eyes. The table began to rattle violently, stomping on the floor as those legs quaked. The many lights in the establishment shattered. And those things began to move. All the bits and pieces. And that table was wrenched from the fronts of all the robed figures. The Matron drew back herself, and brought her hand to the level of her eyes as she watched.

The table broke, snapping into splintered halves. The pearls from ones necklace was also snapped at the string, allowing those white orbs to dance. A leg of a chair was kept vertical, while the other chunks of would became a stacked bundle, much like for a hearth or bonfire.

The vertical one was placed in the center. Pearls stayed in the air, around the wood. And the glasses stabbed into the wooden center violently, lodging into that wooden beam. Pens and pencils did the same. The papers were tacked onto the single beam with the pens and pairs of glasses. And finally, those pearls fell to sit all about the wooden pile of debris.

Her masterpiece was complete. She reopened her eyes, and began to giggle, hopping nearly 3 feet into the air and spinning in circles. The older robed men and women had their dropped, slacked jaws hanging. All the while, the younger one was grinning so broadly it could be mistaken for a smile.

Emlyn calmed down, and smiled to them, running to the side of her masterpiece, and curtsied again to them. Mostly, to Damian.

"I made you a flower, Damian! Do you like it?" Despite the girls innocent intentions, there were injured children with broken bones in the hospital. And some were unconscious, others crying unceasingly from what the girl had made them experience that day. Some adults had wounds, too. Bruises and gentle unexplained burned blisters on their arms and legs.

Damian stood up, and looked to the robed individuals. "Emlyn, how would you like it if you went to school?"

Emlyn's eyes widened, and she looked to her dolly with a thoughtful look again. And then to Damian. "What's school?"

He laughed, and crossed his arms. "A school meant for people of your talents. We can help you make your.. imagination.. much more. You have a gift, Emlyn."

A week later, Emlyn was taken into the custody of Damian LeCroix as his ward, and was enrolled at the Adolescent Academy of the Arcane Principle. It was a high priced school, which she was granted tuition for in exchange for a promise of good behavior and high scholastic performance. She was to be a Mage.