arm and walks me over to stand in front of a large mirror. “It connects things together.” She places her middle finger on the surface and weeds and leaves trace over the border.
She lifts up my chin, forcing me to look at myself.
“Look at those freckles and your light green eyes. You fit right in.”
I blink at my reflection in the mirror, opening my eyes wider to see a silver shimmer around my pupils. Frantically, I blink again to see if it was really there. A raging headache sneaks up on me.
***
My mother’s face is pale and lifeless as a single tear slides down her cheek, and she says, “Thank you.” To me for killing—for murdering—her. Her body flashes out and the scene changes to me wearing a spiked crown with petals around the twigs that circle my head. I lift my hand up, and blood drips down to my white gown. A figure is standing in the forest with many beady green eyes within the darkness, watching me. I step forward, feeling moist dirt in between my toes. The trees are whispering; the leaves are calling my name among their slight rustle. The figure holds out their hand for me to take as I’m pulled out of the trance.
***
I hope for Donovan to come charging in like he always does and kill this elf that’s beside me. She’s now gone and the door to her hidden room is open. Miss Canary is pure and innocent, but I can’t forget that she’s a mystic like the ones we’ve killed in the forest. From what I encountered, mystics are never afraid of anything. Corrupt ones, that is. I have the sudden urge to see Christian and tell him I am sorry for the way I’ve acted. I don’t know what’s going on with me. I walk toward the door in the room, taking another glance at the rose on the desk. I open the door and leave the room, walking down the hallways of the castle, past many rooms and pictures of elves on the walls.
A child elf runs in front of me and stops, dropping his stick toy on the floor. I remember him from somewhere. He runs toward me, hugging my thighs with a giggle. I hear running feet then his mother exhales in relief. She crosses her arms. The little elf skips back to his mother, and she picks him up and walks back into her room.
I trail my fingers on the leafy walls, my shadow along the floor with each step I make. I hover my hands over the vines on the walls; they move with the direction I wave. Eventually I discover what looks like a library. The room is surrounded by crystalized glass walls, so anyone can see you inside.
The bookshelves rise high to the ceilings. I gaze up at them, losing my balance. I step backward, bumping into a chair, and the scent of old books awakens my senses. I think about what Miss Canary said about witches possessing mystic abilities.
I lose myself in the dozens of aisles of books. I approach a section where the books are coated in red and gold. Walking in the middle of the shelves, my left arm begins to freeze, and my right arm starts to warm up. I clench my fingers into fists. I thumb through the many books in the library, my markings reacting vividly on and off, like they are metal detecting.
A particular book is glowing. None of the other books around this section glow but this one. My markings sizzle wildly while I come closer to the book. I poke at its bind, and immense pain punches inside my stomach, the same feeling from back at home when Mom vanished through the Ravamere portal. My body was thrown onto the couch, and images rapidly flashed through my mind.
This is the exact pain I am feeling once more, and I can feel my head pinching, getting ready for the images to sprint through my mind. It doesn’t even take a second until I hit the ground, my eyes shutting.
***
A blonde woman walks near the edges of a beautiful lake in a flowy light blue dress; her hair is curled, her cheeks rosy red. She is holding what looks like a broomstick in her left hand, silver witch markings swirling around her arm. Wind tickles across
She lifts up my chin, forcing me to look at myself.
“Look at those freckles and your light green eyes. You fit right in.”
I blink at my reflection in the mirror, opening my eyes wider to see a silver shimmer around my pupils. Frantically, I blink again to see if it was really there. A raging headache sneaks up on me.
***
My mother’s face is pale and lifeless as a single tear slides down her cheek, and she says, “Thank you.” To me for killing—for murdering—her. Her body flashes out and the scene changes to me wearing a spiked crown with petals around the twigs that circle my head. I lift my hand up, and blood drips down to my white gown. A figure is standing in the forest with many beady green eyes within the darkness, watching me. I step forward, feeling moist dirt in between my toes. The trees are whispering; the leaves are calling my name among their slight rustle. The figure holds out their hand for me to take as I’m pulled out of the trance.
***
I hope for Donovan to come charging in like he always does and kill this elf that’s beside me. She’s now gone and the door to her hidden room is open. Miss Canary is pure and innocent, but I can’t forget that she’s a mystic like the ones we’ve killed in the forest. From what I encountered, mystics are never afraid of anything. Corrupt ones, that is. I have the sudden urge to see Christian and tell him I am sorry for the way I’ve acted. I don’t know what’s going on with me. I walk toward the door in the room, taking another glance at the rose on the desk. I open the door and leave the room, walking down the hallways of the castle, past many rooms and pictures of elves on the walls.
A child elf runs in front of me and stops, dropping his stick toy on the floor. I remember him from somewhere. He runs toward me, hugging my thighs with a giggle. I hear running feet then his mother exhales in relief. She crosses her arms. The little elf skips back to his mother, and she picks him up and walks back into her room.
I trail my fingers on the leafy walls, my shadow along the floor with each step I make. I hover my hands over the vines on the walls; they move with the direction I wave. Eventually I discover what looks like a library. The room is surrounded by crystalized glass walls, so anyone can see you inside.
The bookshelves rise high to the ceilings. I gaze up at them, losing my balance. I step backward, bumping into a chair, and the scent of old books awakens my senses. I think about what Miss Canary said about witches possessing mystic abilities.
I lose myself in the dozens of aisles of books. I approach a section where the books are coated in red and gold. Walking in the middle of the shelves, my left arm begins to freeze, and my right arm starts to warm up. I clench my fingers into fists. I thumb through the many books in the library, my markings reacting vividly on and off, like they are metal detecting.
A particular book is glowing. None of the other books around this section glow but this one. My markings sizzle wildly while I come closer to the book. I poke at its bind, and immense pain punches inside my stomach, the same feeling from back at home when Mom vanished through the Ravamere portal. My body was thrown onto the couch, and images rapidly flashed through my mind.
This is the exact pain I am feeling once more, and I can feel my head pinching, getting ready for the images to sprint through my mind. It doesn’t even take a second until I hit the ground, my eyes shutting.
***
A blonde woman walks near the edges of a beautiful lake in a flowy light blue dress; her hair is curled, her cheeks rosy red. She is holding what looks like a broomstick in her left hand, silver witch markings swirling around her arm. Wind tickles across
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