My eyes jolt open as something bangs against my window. I look up to see nothing there. Nothing has moved the fallen snow that lays thick upon the grass. I reach for the window, voices beginning to fill my head. Few of them are understandable, but those few say some very helpful things. I am not who you think I am, I am something more. one voice says. It repeats constantly until I finally put my hand down. One voice that I wish I hadn't heard was the one that seemed the most powerful. The banshee dies first, but yet it never dies. What the hell is this? My mind travels in a million- scratch that- a billion different directions. I have had this gift for a while, but I have yet to hear something like this. I am not immortal, I can not heal myself, I can barely fight. Deaton is my only hope. If only he wasn't-
I am interrupted by the sound of breaking glass. Small pieces flow across the room and Pierce my skin, spilling blood into my bedsheets. My mirror had shattered by a piercing sound, one that only I could make. Someone runs into my room, blurry from blood loss, and sprints to my side. Before I know it I'm... where am I... well where ever I am the oxygen is gone. I am slowly suffocating in a place that can't be named. Just an average day. right?
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Silence...
FanfictionLydia Martin and her friends are experienced with this sort of thing. They have all been a supernatural being at some point in time, but Lydia is one they no longer care for. She is a banshee. She is visited by a creature that they have fought and d...
