Juna’s chocolate-brown hair hangs low around her face, usually in a set of messily arranged braids. Her doe-like eyes glimmer in a dark, dark green that makes her olive skin pop. She is of regular build for her age and gender, standing at 140 centimeters.

The young girl is incredibly caring and her understanding is beyond comprehension. If people-pleasing was a sport, her shelf would be full of golden medals.

Despite her burning desire to please the people around her, she’s shy and struggle making conversation which often results in people feeling awkward around her.

However, once she’s grown attached to you, you can expect to see a stern Juna once in a while. Whether it be a comment on your choice of socks, your terrible taste in books, or the way you chew too loudly. Don’t fret, she isn’t out to get you; it’s her way of showing trust, a silent badge of honor that you’ve made it past her wall of hesitation.

Due to Juna’s rather unsocial nature, she didn’t have many friends at school. The other pupils were nice enough, but they never invited her to play.

Juna didn’t mind much though. She had her parents and her books. Whenever she felt down she’d find the nearest place to bury her nose into a book and just dream away. In there, she could be whoever she wanted to be.

Juna’s parents always knew there was something odd about their little girl. While they never could put their finger on it, they knew. There were these small instances that raised questions marks. One early morning when Juna’s was 9, these suspicions would be confirmed.

Her mother often swore the house was working against her in Juna’s benefit. Had she insisted the weather was too nice to be driving to the library and that they should take the ten minute walk instead, suddenly the car keys disappeared in thin air. Don’t you see, mama? Even the universe thinks my outfit is too pretty to be worn outside.

This morning though, her mother couldn’t blame the house. Juna had woken up moody, claiming her stomach hurt and refusing to go to school. Her mother, gently persistent, handed her the backpack and said, “You’ll feel better once you're out.”

That’s when it happened.

The windows fogged over from the inside. A sudden wind whooshed through the hallway despite every door and window being shut and papers flew off the fridge like startled birds. The lights flickered.

Juna stood in the middle, arms crossed, face flushed—her normally wide eyes bulging out of their sockets. Her mother froze. When the objects gently settled to the floor, she slowly backed away.

They didn’t go to school that day.
That night, her mother searched the internet for something she wasn’t ready to believe:
"accidental magic in children."