My Name Is Magic

There’s magic in the world. All different kinds, seeping into the veins of people across the planet. Sometimes it soaks an entire family tree, flowing up from the roots and extending out through every branch.

Sometimes it prefers those with a sprinkling of fairy blood or a smattering of troll genes, and sometimes it ends up in a person with entirely human DNA. From Longyearbyen to Cape Town, Los Angeles to Suva—there’s no escaping it.

And then there’s me—a tiny leaf at the end of a twig shooting off a long branch of the giant, sprawling, epic Turunen family tree, making me a descendant of some of the most powerful tietäjät in Finland. Potent lineage, right? Bet you think that means I’m guaranteed to be a total badass, right?

Wrong.

Fact is, I don’t have magic at all. Not a drop, not a sliver, not one single quark of the stuff and, to be honest, I’m a little bit bitter about it—especially considering my name.

Taika. It literally means magic. So, thanks, Mom and Dad for naming me the one thing I’m not.