That dinner time, with her newfound knowledge, Elphaba did not feel so gloomy. The empty chair next to Frex was a painful reminder of her dead mother but today it did not hurt as much. Frex, as usual, was pontificating on the glories of the Unnamed God, thanking Him for their bountiful dinner.
Guiltily, Elphaba thought that the best food she had for a while was at Melena's funeral.
The small family started eating the food. Frex kept on giving Elphaba dark glances of resentment through his narrowed eyes, a new occurrence which appeared after Melena's untimely death.
'Magic is a type of energy. Nobody knows where it comes from but when it appears, it is most potent. Scholars circa The Early Ozma Period believe that magic essentially acts as a 'reality bender', defying the laws of any science or indeed, logic. However, magic has been standardised in a way to appear logical…'
Elphaba yawned, her eyes heavy with sleep. The first spell she had ever taught herself was one of illumination; her bedroom was lit by a ball of light merrily bobbing inside an old disused lantern. She stayed up most of the night, restless with the thrill of gaining power. A stack of books lay hidden under her bed, books on history, books on theory, all books about magic.
She quickly murmured a counter-spell and the light vanished. Elphaba shuddered at the thought of her dear father ever finding out about her magic. He was a sanctimonious and deluded bastard, Elphaba thought, and it was a shame that she was related to a man so unwilling to nurture her gift.
In the room next to hers, Nessarose let out a thin , annoying wail. Frex was at once by Nessa's side , comforting his precious girl. Elphaba felt a twinge of sharp, cruel envy. Elphaba knew would never the most loved. Elphaba knew she was a freak because she was green. And Elphaba knew, even at the tender age of six, that she needed to help herself before the world destroyed her.