It should be known that the Marsh family was fairly popular among the citizens of Sonder and it wasn't because one of the family members was a Grand Apprentice.

Instead, the love people held for the Marsh family stemmed from the delicious food they found inside of the cozy, little restaurant hidden below the family's home. People, Fae, and even Mages could be found gathering at the proudly named Hummingbird Diner. All bearing bright smiles and hungry stomachs.

In the kitchen, Mr. Marsh serenaded his customers by whistling a catchy tune with a low, scruffy voice while serving one hearty dish after another. His wife, on the other hand, bumbled through the crowd with an armful of trays and a savory smile.

It was a calm day for the busy couple. Mrs. Marsh was in such a good mood, in fact, that she didn't even fuss over the dirty footprints Emma tracked in. Instead, the woman tossed honey-brown eyes over her shoulder and greeted the girl.

"Welcome home, Emma," Mrs. Marsh greeted with a sing-songy voice while she swayed over to the counter.

At the sound of his daughter's name, Mr. Marsh poked his head out of the large window separating the kitchen from the dining area. A wide, toothy smile peeked out from his coarse, black beard while thick brows shot up to reveal his merry gaze.

"There's my little bird," her father bellowed, his voice deep yet pleasant to the ear. "Hungry? I've got roast beef leftover from the lunch rush. How 'bout I fix you a plate?"

Unlike her parents, Emma wasn't in a very cheerful mood. With Blu resting on her shoulder, she slumped over to the counter where a jar of her father's Lemon and Honey Tarts sat untouched. Without a word, she grabbed a hefty handful.

"No, I'm okay," she sighed gloomily as she lifted one of the sweet yet sour pastries to her lips. Alas, not even the taste of one of her favorite desserts could bring a smile to Emma's face.

Mr. and Mrs. Marsh shared a confused, worried glance. It wasn't often that their daughter came home upset, but when she did, Mrs. Marsh had a pretty good idea of who to blame.

Grumbling to herself, Mrs. Marsh fought hard to hide her hateful feelings toward the Grand Mage of Sonder while eyeing her pitiful, eleven-year-old daughter. "So," she began, her voice straining to remain pleasant, "did you have fun at Mr. Peridot's today?"

At the mage's name, Emma's face contorted into an ugly, red expression. With a mouth full of tart and tears stinging her brown eyes, Emma quickly turned her back to her mother. Then, with a small whimper, she darted towards the stairway leading into the family home. A shaky voice echoed, "I don't want to talk about it," behind her as she fled the room full of stares.

Mr. Marsh was the one looking most concerned. Leaning his burly arms against the wooden frame of the window, he sighed. "Poor thing is really upset this time."

His knitted brows, then, rose - blending in with his shaggy hair as a shiver ran down his spine. Mr. Marsh instantly turned to his wife only to be met with a cold, icy glare. He stiffened under her gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that, Donna?"

"Like what?" she barked, her voice stern.

"As if I came in after rolling around in the chicken coop," he laughed, causing Mrs. Marsh to turn away from him. Her breath sliced through the air as she tried not to take her husband's joke to heart.

"This is serious, George," she huffed while her round eyes narrowed. "This is the fifteenth time she's come home upset because of that - that -"

"Now, don't go sayin' stuff you'll regret," Mr. Marsh interrupted calmly. Already, the nosy patrons of the diner shot curious glances their way. Mrs. Marsh didn't seem to care, though. Especially when she crossed her arms over her chest and fixed her glare on the splintered, hardwood floor.

Mr. Marsh wasted no time exiting the kitchen to join his wife behind the counter. Within seconds, a grizzly yet loving arm found its way around her stiff shoulders.

"I don't like it, you know," Mrs. Marsh mumbled. "Her rushing over there every day just to come home with tears in her eyes."

Her husband nodded. "I know."

"And have you heard the things people say about her? Awful things, George! I had to ban Beth's family because I overheard her and her husband spreading rumors about our little girl."

"I've heard."

"And the kids! Oh, the kids are the worst! Ever since Novice Day, she's had no friends. Everyone treats her like an outcast. Even Molly from down the street acts as though she doesn't exist anymore and they were best friends!"

"I never liked her anyway."

Mrs. Marsh sighed, placing her face into her hands. "What are we going to do, George? I'd tell her to give it up but you know how heartbroken she'd be."

Mr. Marsh pulled his wife closer. "I know," he cooed, recalling the day Peridot asked his little girl to be his Apprentice.

Ozker had kindly asked their permission for reasons Mr. Marsh still didn't understand. After all, mages tended to let the children - or Novices, they called them - decide who their mentor would be. He liked to believe it was out of respect but the truth always gnawed at the back of his mind.

The Marsh's were humans. Plain and proud to be. While magic wasn't something they always enjoyed, it wasn't something they outright despised either. They respected it and respected it even more when it didn't come barging through their door.

It did, though, and in the form of a simple rock,- no less.

He had every right to turn the Grand Wizard away. Yet, as Ozker explained - slowly and wholeheartedly for their sakes - something strange tugged at his heart that day.

Unlike his wife, Mr. Marsh thought Emma's love for magic was something that she should embrace. So, he embraced it too.

He introduced her to mages that came into the diner where they would perform small spells for her to awe at. He bought her a book called Mages Throughout the Ages where she discovered her great admiration for the Miraculous Merlin. There was even a time when he took her to a small magical shop where Emma came into contact with a cursed hairbrush that turned her once brilliant black hair into an odd shade of blonde.

He swore to never tell Mrs. Marsh the truth about Emma's sudden change of hair color, though.

"How about I go talk to her," he offered. "Try to cheer her up a bit."

Mrs. Marsh gazed up at him as though he had said something life-changing. "Oh, yes! Please do and make sure to tell her not to eat all those tarts. I don't want her ruining her appetite before dinner like she did yesterday."

Mr. Marsh nodded, gave his wife a loving kiss on her forehead, and headed upstairs.

Emma's room was on the third floor of the Marsh household, hidden behind a door that read 'Emma and Blu.' His daughter's name had been painted onto the door when she was born in pretty white letters. Meanwhile, Blu's name came years later - looking messy compared to Mrs. Marsh's neat writing.

Over the years, the room had only become more cluttered as Emma grew. Posters of famous wizards hung on the walls along with a few doodles that she had drawn when she was a child. The fake wand Mr. Marsh had given her laid on the windowsill beside many tiny figurines of great mages. The only books that weren't scattered along the floor sat neatly on top of her bedside table. All twenty, precious volumes of The Adventures of the Miraculous Merlin: A Complete Biography by Prosper Calvarias were in pristine condition despite Emma having read through them, at least, a hundred times.

Mr. Marsh found his daughter lying flat on her bed, her face buried into her pillows. He also found that all the tarts were gone. A low chuckle rumbled through the air when his eyes glazed over a crumb-covered Blu lying beside a sullen Emma. The small bed creaked under Mr. Marsh's weight. And, for a moment, they sat in silence - mostly because he didn't know what had caused his daughter to be so upset. But, also because he didn't know what to say.

Soon a low, muffled voice came to tickle Mr. Marsh's ears.

"I failed my exam."

Mr. Marsh's large, bushy black eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oh, is that all?" he cooed, patting her back gently. "Don't you worry, little bird. One test is nothing to fret over. Why, I've failed loads of tests when I was in school!"

Emma sniffled while he chuckled. Tiny hands clutched her feathered pillow. Her next words mimicked that of a whimper. "Did they call you the worst mage of the millennium, too?"

The question caused her father to look at Blu curiously as though he might explain what she had meant.

He didn't.

Instead, the little baby Jackalope (who hadn't even grown his horns yet) shook his head at Mr. Marsh before shaking the crumbs off his coat. 

"The Arcane Institute said that they would take away my powers if I don't catch up with the other apprentices. But, I can't even recite a spell! I'm completely useless," Emma grumbled, choking back tears.

Truth be told, Mr. Marsh didn't understand half the words that came out of his child's mouth. And, what he did understand, he didn't like. 

"My daughter? Useless?" he gaped, utterly appalled at the word. "Well, that can't be right. My daughter is useful for all sorts of things."

Emma jumped at his statement, taking him by surprise. The frail bed creaked as she hopped onto her knees. Her big, brown eyes pleaded with him. "Really? Like what?"

"Uh...W-Well..." Mr. Marsh cleared his throat. Nervous eyes gazed around the messy room. "Y-You are the only person I know who can collect all these posters." He laughed, pointing to a special edition poster of Glinda the Wise. Emma didn't seem pleased. "And uh... Oh! You know all kinds of stuff about Merlin. I bet you can tell me all about him."

Surely not all there was to tell , but a bit more than most. Alas, even this useful talent wasn't quite enough to bring a smile to Emma's gloomy expression.

"Yeah, well, not everyone likes Merlin as much as I do," she muttered, hugging her knees to her chest.

Mr. Marsh fell silent. He scratched his beard in thought, frowning at his daughter. He liked to think he was a master at turning that pitiful frown upside-down. Though, unlike his wife, he wasn't the best at thinking on his feet. As he was about to give in and call for backup, his eyes fell to Blu. He grinned at the funny little creature as he finally found the right words.

"Well, not everyone likes Blu either."

Blu let out an audible gasp at the statement. Now, he was the one with tears in his eyes as he gaped at the big, burly man he had come to love. A little cry escaped his furry lips while he hopped into Emma's lap. Big sapphires gazed pitifully at her as Blu wondered if she, too, didn't like him.

Emma peeked at her father. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that Blu is just another weird critter to most people. Heck, your mother threw a fit when you brought him home and told you to get rid of him."

Blu seemed on the verge of tears at that. Emma, though, simply smiled at the memory. After discovering the mystical rabbit rummaging through their trash, it was safe to say that Mrs. Marsh was appalled that her daughter would handle such a nasty critter. Even more so that Emma would bring him inside their home.

"Yeah," she giggled, "she was really mad."

"You know, she was even angrier when she discovered you were keeping him in secret."

Emma's cheeks went pink. She had managed to hide Blu away in her room for almost a month before her mother caught on. When she inevitably did, Emma thought she would never see sunlight again.

Mr. Marsh chuckled at her guilty expression before adding in a serious tone, "You're not useless, little bird."

The sincerity in her father's voice made her chest warm but she still couldn't get the article out of her head. "I'm good at keeping secrets from Mom. What's the point of that? You've kept tons of things from her."

Mr. Marsh let out a low, guilt-ridden laugh. "Though, it's true that you and I are masters at fooling your mother," he said, ruffling her messy hair, "that's not what I meant. What I mean is that you care. Before Blu met you, he had no one. Now, he sleeps in a warm bed, treats himself to all the sweets in the kitchen, and, most of all, he has a family to call his own. That's all because of you, little bird. If you hadn't cared so much, then he wouldn't have all those things. And, if you ask me, that is more useful than anything magic can teach you."

Blu shared a loving look with Emma before appearing on her shoulder. She smiled when he rubbed his fuzzy cheek against hers.

"I guess you're right," she said thoughtfully. Then, as the sapphire pressed against her heart, she was reminded of the awful article once more. "But, that doesn't count! I still failed and I haven't been able to perform a single spell properly. I'll never be able to catch up to the other apprentices and I'll certainly never be as great as Merlin was."

Her eyes glazed over to the books on her bedside table. "Maybe I should just give up..."

"Oh, Emma," Mr. Marsh sighed. He had never seen her so upset. Without another word, he followed her gaze to the twenty volumes of books. He eyed Volume 9: Fight for Elysia and he knew that there was only one way to cheer his daughter up.

Mr. Marsh flew to his feet and paraded over to the old pile of toys aging away in the corner of Emma's room. There, he retrieved the chipped wooden sword, turned to his daughter with a puffed-out chest, and aimed it proudly.

"KNEEL BEFORE ME, MAGE!" he roared. The walls quivered at his booming voice which was sure to reach the peaceful diner below.

Emma simply bobbed her head to the side - eyeing her father heavily. "Really, Dad?"

"Who is this 'Dad' you speak of?" Mr. Marsh bellowed in his best posh, wizard accent which only came out shaky and a bit nasally. "I am the infamous Sir Nicholas Bowen! Conqueror of Lands! And, finally, after ten tough years, I will have another under my belt."

Emma began laughing. The sound light and airy on her father's ears. 

Mr. Marsh's mockery didn't compare to the real Sir Bowen. Who was, in fact, a short angry man with an army of giants on his side. For a moment, Emma considered passing up on his offer. But, upon seeing her own rendition of Merlin's wand resting in the windowsill, she changed her mind. 

She leaped from her bed without warning. Her fingers snatched the dull, silver rod from its home, and stood firmly before her foe.

"That is what you think!" she roared. Her twittery voice grew old and withered. Deep, too. Perfectly resembling the thundering tone of the Miraculous Merlin. "As long as I am standing, you will never take this land, Bowen!"

Her dad grinned from ear to ear, "Ooh, that was a good one."

"Dad!"

"Oh, right...Stand down, mage! For, I have bested you! If you knew better, then you'd lay down your wand forever."

"Never! For, laying down my wand is the same as laying down my own life."

"Then...BE PREPARED TO DIE!"

Mr. Marsh shoved the toy sword at Emma. She dodged it easily with a smile on her face. Ducking from another playful attack, she rolled across the floor before aiming the plain wand at her father's heart. 

"Alteus!" she bellowed. Mr. Marsh clasped his hands over his heart at the word. The invisible spell caused him to groan while his body became immobile (supposedly).

"AHHH!" he screamed, falling to his knees. Emma laughed, then, causing him to pierce her with a warning look. "Hey," he whispered, "no laughing at the wounded."

"Sorry," she whispered back, a giggle hiding behind her palm. Even Blu seemed giddy at Mr. Marsh's fallen state. The man shook his head at them before clearing his throat. 

"Mage, you have bested me! Why? All were against you yet you still fought!"

"Hey," Emma gaped, narrowing her cocky gaze. She knew the famous scene well and she knew that he was doing it wrong. "That's not what happened. It was Arthur that asked him why he fought, not Sir Bowen."

"I know," her father huffed, his dark eyes widening slightly, "play along, will you?"

Emma thought about leaving her father on her floor, looking silly. Yet, she couldn't turn him down - especially since this was her favorite scene from volume 9. So, she cleared her throat while her heart warmed up to the words.

"Because my dear frie- uh, enemy," she coughed. "I was allowed to choose whether to lay down my wand or risk the lives of my people and my friends. One is safe and easy while the other is dangerous. Never choose the easier path, Arth- I mean, S-Sir Bowen, for it will lead you down a boring life full of regret."

Mr. Marsh raised a brow. "And what about the harder path, Merlin?"

"The harder path is full of challenges," Emma continued bravely. "Challenges so tough that they will make you wonder if you should have chosen the latter! But, not all is terrible. Alas, this path holds many gifts. Such as friends that will stand by you during those trivial times and allies who will choose to travel with you on the darkest of days.

"So, choose the harder path, friend, and-" Emma stopped. Her eyes widened while her mouth gaped at her father who seemed positively proud. 

"And?" 

Emma blinked. Her gaze falling to the amulet resting over her heart. "And," she continued, the polished accent falling away leaving her with her own, unique voice. "And, you will regret nothing."

Mr. Marsh sighed, nodding at her answer. "I see," he grunted as he slowly rose from the floor. He rubbed the ache in his lower back away while his knees cracked painfully so. The sound made Blu's ears fly up in alarm but Mr. Marsh seemed relieved. 

"Smart mage he is, then. No wonder they called him the Miraculous Merlin! Don't you agree?" 

Silence hung in the air again. This time, though, Mr. Marsh found his daughter studying the blue rock that now rested in her hand. Her brown eyes widened as the sapphire beamed - perhaps, a little brighter than before. Mr. Marsh, however, wasn't surprised in the slightest. 

The laugh that rumbled out of his throat caused the girl to jump out of her heavy thoughts. "Say," he beamed, "why don't we head downstairs and teach Madam Mim a thing or two, hm?"

Emma jumped at the offer. With the dull rod still in hand, her eyes shimmered with excitement. "Really? Can we?"

Mr. Marsh snickered - the sound mischievous and, albeit, a bit ruthless. "Of course, little bird," he beamed before dropping his voice back down to a simmering boil. "But, we've got to be quiet. If your mother hears us coming, we'll never stand a chance!"