𝔸 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕎𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕙 (Book 2)

Forty-Four

My eyes didn't dare rove from the creature sitting at the wheel. She had tensed, barely making a sound as if she were searching for me in her home with her mind.

The wheel slowed its pace.

I began making my way for the door.

Slower and slower each rotation of the wheel dragged.

A few steps from the door. Just a few. 

    The wheel stopped.

    An arm's length away from freedom. So close. All hope that she hadn't noticed escaped me as she shot out a pale hand to stop the spinning wheel entirely.

    The door just barely a breath away locked shut. I was trapped. I refused to let my fears get the best of me. I had four other possible exits, the windows were my chance. I snuck to the nearest window, grappling for a handle to open it. Stuck. More like Glued shut.

    "Who is in my house?" the Weaver asked softly.

    Don't panic. I told myself, Panic clouds the mind. My panic surged in large waves anyway. I forced myself to take a breath, packing my emotions away and deep into myself.

    I opened my eyes as the Weaver turned to face me fully.

She had looked young from the angle I'd first seen her, but beneath all that I had presumed, her skin was gray—wrinkled and sagging. Like her body had stayed the same as the rest of her aged. Where eyes should have gleamed, pits of black darkness stood in their place. Her lips had withered to nothing but dark lines on her face. Dark lines around a mouth full of jagged, stumped teeth. Probably because she gnawed on too many bones.

    She was ugly. Like, the ugly, scary type.

    She sniffed, scenting the air to pinpoint me.

    "What are you?" she said in a voice that sounded so young.

    Again, I searched for a way out. And yet all my exits had been blocked or boarded shut.

    The Weaver rose from her little stool. "What is like all?" she mused as she took a step in my direction. I didn't back away. "But unlike all?"

    She began to circle me. I circled back. Her ragged clothes dragged on the dusty wooden floors, creating a small trail behind her.

     I was probably dead. Yes, I think that was a definite at this point. But there was an option...

    A deadly, terrifying option that chilled me to the bone. But maybe... if the odds were in my favor, there was a very, very slim chance that I might actually survive if I managed what I wanted to do.

I'd take those odds over being turned into an ugly carpet any day.

    Power roiled in my veins as I summoned it, I didn't dare stop walking as the Weaver and I circled each other. I walked, and yet my focus was deep inside me, digging and swimming through the silky and ancient power that lived within me.

    "Did you think that you could steal from me and flee, thief?" I thought she may have said, but my mind was too engrossed in what was going on inside my head.

    Down, down, deeper, deeper. Piling my power up and up until I felt like my skin was buzzing with lightning. Maybe it was.

     I closed my eyes for a split second as the power I held nearly consumed my breath. The sun ceased shining and an ear-splitting boom cracked from outside.

    It felt as though I held reality in one hand and power in the other. Like they were playing tug a war with my insides as electricity scattered under my skin and into my very bones.

    Will. Power was sheer willpower. That was what I needed.

    With a mere thought, the door unlocked behind me.

      Easy, peasy.

The Weaver sucked in a breath as she heard the click of the lock. Her eye twitched with something akin to annoyance. She made no move to stop me from backing away toward the open area of the clearing. Each step I took backward, she took forward. Like a dance of death. If either of us faltered the other would strike. If either of us pounced the other would pay the price. It was as though we hung in the balance with fate, teetering with who was getting out of this.

    I admit; her senses were impeccable. To be able to know where she was as well as aware of her surroundings. Had to give it to her there.

    "Something new," she flashed her gross teeth into something that could have been a curious smile. Cocking her head, she spoke again, "What are you?" she asked again.

    "Your worst nightmare," it was a cheap-shot remark, overused, but a favorite.

    Her eyes narrowed, "Then is it not befitting that you are about to die?" that had to be meant as poetic about crushing fears or something.

    "I suppose we'll have to see." Another step back. Another step forward.

    The Weaver's deadly chuckle was lethal. So much so that I called on my power again.

     Once more, dusty clouds that crackled with electricity appeared above the forest. Like a plague that obscured everything high up. Lightning struck some far-off tree at my will.

     Electricity. A constant of my powers, maybe...maybe I could use that to my advantage.

     My thoughts wandered, sifting through ideas upon idea. Suddenly, a plan took hold. I once read a story where a god of lightning and thunder defeated his enemy by trapping them in a prison of lightning bolts. I knew with my level of experience I wouldn't be able to do exactly that, but I was almost certain I would be able to do something similar. I held onto the chance I could see this through.

I was beginning to feel weak, so un-naturally so that when I looked up at the Weaver's face and saw the menacing smile that soured her features, I knew somehow it was her doing. It felt like the life was being drained from me, as though she was feeding off it.

Time felt like it was going infinitely faster.

I dredged into my power more. Pulling, and pulling, and pulling from what was inside me.

    I knew what I was doing was dangerous. Digging into someone's power too far was risky enough, but I'd never even spent enough time trying to understand my magic to know how deep mine went. If I used too much...or if I let it all out too fast...

I decided not to think about it. Which was likely a stupid decision in the long run, but I didn't have that kind as of time.

Power slithered beneath my skin. Down and down, deeper into that well inside me.

"Your life tastes like fine wine." the Weaver said.

I hummed, "Befitting for a last meal then, isn't it?" I used her words.

"I shall enjoy what I make of you."

    I didn't really care to say anything else. Not as I found the amount of power I clutched like a bomb satisfactory. It was so hard to mold it into something, so unlike anything I'd made before. It felt like I was sculpting. and any small detail could change what I wanted to make.

    I needed to be as precise as possible. With every waking second, I felt weaker and weaker. Until finally, I realized that if I didn't fight back now, I would be able to fight back at all.

    I prayed to every god and goddess, deity and spirit, that what I did here would be contained. That it would work, and everything...everyone around this clearing would be safe.

    That I wouldn't accidentally kill Rhys, in short.

    I took one last steadying breath, letting my power shape and mold for one last second.

    I opened my eyes.

And I unleashed myself.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A/N: GUYSSS, I think I'm gonna make the next chapter a Rhys POV