A Rational Magic || ONC2022

Twenty || More To The Story

As Holly and Anya fall to Adalia's spell, I scream. Because someone has to be here, someone has to be able to help me.

Mother, Father, anyone.

"Kat? Adalia?"

Adalia throws herself onto the floor as the sound of our father running down the stairs — apparently having forgotten that he can fly — fills the air, and she lies perfectly still.

I already know what it looks like when he walks in, his face paling almost immediately.

"What did you do?"

I don't think about how insane it is that he thinks I could have done this.

"I didn't."

He doesn't say anything to tell me that he agrees or disagrees or anything, just stepping very deliberately on Adalia's hair when he crosses the room to where I'm still sitting on the table. Her face twists for a moment, and he catches the movement.

What did she do this for?

Father lifts me with a startling ease, something that should not be as possible as he thinks.

"Are you hurt?"

"I... don't think so. Can you please put me down?"

And he does, thankfully, because my head is still trying to catch up to reality and I feel like all the thinking I'm attempting to do is going to make me ill. It's gently, and onto the slightly bloodstained couch, and he pulls his hand through my hair a few times before speaking again.

"Did she say anything?"

"Just... Anya..." I swallow, and try again. "She called me a kiatsin, Anya told her to let go of me, and she said 'you can't make me do anything' before just, like, flinging her arm up."

Father didn't say anything for a long moment after that, watching the two unconscious girls with a puzzled look on his face. As if he couldn't quite work out what spell Adalia had used.

Not that I knew any better.

"Do you understand what's happening, Kat?"

"No."

It's the easiest way to get an explanation. If Adalia was to have any hope of framing me for her attack, and Father could think I cast the spell, something must have happened.

As if in answer to my question, my hands begin glowing — faintly, but they are glowing, and I do not like it.

The way I've always recognised types of magic tends to be smell or taste. The darker it is, the more foul the taste, and that's what I'm expecting when I see my hands.

Kiatsin.

But it's sugar-sweet and almost as horrible as the lingering taste of Adalia's spell — something even worse than at the 'witch's' house.

Sensing it... is a different matter. But I don't need that little gift the world decided to give me to know that I suddenly have power, and that I have no hope of controlling said power.

The realisation, embarrassingly enough, ends up with me burying my head in my father's shoulder while he explains his theory. I'm trying my hardest not to cry, but it's so much harder than you might expect.

And they're not 'happy tears' at all.

Adalia thinks I'm cursed.

Evil.

And is she really all that wrong?

"Adalia."

The authority in his tone is something usually only heard when Mother is talking, and I lift my head to see what my sister is going to do.

Adalia sits up slowly and then shrinks back at the sight of me, as if she's the one who should be scared of me.

"What have you done?" she whispers, and her eyes flash.

"Funnily enough, I don't think Kat would know how to cast a spell like this."

"But—"

The rooms tilts dangerously as Father takes my hand and fixes Adalia with a very stern look.

"What are you trying to do to your brother?"

"Nothing!"

"Don't lie to me. What did you do to Holly and Anya?"

"He did it!"

"Again—"

"She's right."

He actually falters at that, though I can't quite work out why. I feel like I'm watching the world through some kind of fog, stuck in a liminal space... and I'm not sure I care.

"You already told me that she attacked them after Anya told her to let you go," Father says softly.

"Why would I tell you the truth?" I practically spit the words out, but I can't bring myself to question it. Or maybe it's not that I don't want to, it's that someone's stopping me.

My head is spinning.

"Adalia, for crying out loud, release it."

"It's his fault."

"But it isn't."

"He's a kiatsin, of course it is!"

"Kat is not cursed, Adalia," Father snaps, wrapping an arm around me almost protectively as Adalia's hands crackle with something that makes me taste something absolutely revolting. "And you will remove your spell at once."

"Fine."

She snaps her fingers, and then as soon as the fog begins to fade she does it again.

Now that I'm not only half-aware of what's going on, even if I still don't quite understand what Adalia was trying to do, the fact that everyone seems to be glowing just makes me want to scream.

"Adalia Wystan, stop torturing your little brother," Father commands, and she drops her hand.

The glows don't fade.

"Sorry, Father," she says, sounding about as apologetic as Flint did after that crash... was that really just yesterday?

"Remove the spell you used on Holly and Anya."

"I can't."

She says it too flippantly for my liking, and evidently Father is also considerably less than impressed.

"Of course you can."

"I can't. Seriously. They're the only ones who can save themselves now." It's with a tiny shrug that she stands, making the conscious decision to step right on my toes as she turns to leave. "Now, I have some people to meet. See you both."

"Adalia!"

But she doesn't listen.

When the door slams, Father buries his head in his hands and refuses to look up again.

I shuffle away from him, then decide that, if Holly and Anya are going to be doing the whole rescuing part of this next part, I'm probably better off in the basement.

Miss Zinvyre likely isn't too happy about the long wait for her watch to get fixed. I'd be more useful sorting that out instead of sitting in the silent living room and doing nothing, wouldn't I?