Mythical, Mystical, Magical

Chapter 4- Anger

 Nare A. Rator's P.O.V.

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  The rest of the day went by in a blur for Blue. She beckoned the wings back down to her and showed her family how she could open up the cage. From the left wing, Blue took out the pocket of powder and the little charm. She followed the instructions and poured the powder in some water and drank the mixture. Blue's family watched on anxiously, hoping nothing bad happened to Blue. Nothing did.

  Blue blinked after draining the cup. When she re-opened her eyes, everything was sparkling with a golden glow. She goggled, and looked around her. She tried to take in everything in this beautiful form of sight. But too soon her eyes got dry and she blinked again. Her sight was back to normal. "Blue, what did you see, what did you see?" cried Andy. Blue was still thinking about the gold. "Settle down, Andy, let her think." said Stephen calmly. After a moment, Blue replied in a hazy voice, "Well.. The entire room was flooded-" They gasped. Blue glanced sharply at them. "Not with water! With light. Golden light. Just 'cause I drank some powder doesn't mean I suddenly see..." She tried to think of what to call it. "Random stuff you guys don't!" Startled by her sudden outburst, the family was quieter. Blue went back to describing what she had seen like nothing happened. "I blinked, and when I opened my eyes again, everything sparkled and was golden." She let it sink in, and Camille looked awestruck. She said in her one-and-a-half-year-old-voice, (And for whatever reason she only called Blue 'Ily') "Ily, was'n' there any pink? 'Cause there was sparkly and golden. So any pink?" She asked in all innocence. "Er- no, Camille. Just gold." Blue (Or rather Ily) said gently. "Oh." Camille looked crestfallen. "Well, Blue, you should add that charm to this chain." Aunt Cora said, swiftly changing the subject. She held out a shiny new sterling strand. "I don't trust that old one. It looks like it will be reduced to a pile of dust with the slightest brush." Blue grinned. Aunt Cora was slowly resuming to her old self, the curt, brisk way of her words and actions since the letter was wearing away. "Thanks a million, Aunt Cora." Blue took off her old chain and realized something. The heart charm wasn't on it.

   Blue panicked. "Aunt Cora! My heart charm -- from my mother -- its not there!" Stephen and Aunt Cora shifted uncomfortably.

   Stephen spoke first. "Well, Blue, Mom thought that that charm was... a bit nutty. Blowing you off your feet and everything. So, she told me to get it while we were climbing up the stairs."

   Blue's gaze snapped to her aunt. She was calm with the edge of a person who was very angry. Aunt Cora, on the other hand, was looking nervous, and suddenly the kitchen was very interesting.

   "So, you took away the only thing that my mom gave to me?" Blue said.

   Aunt Cora defended herself. "It blew you off your feet! It could have given you a concussion. It obviously had some -- some -- unstable magic or something in it!" Aunt Cora sputtered.

   Blue retorted. "Yes, I get why you did that last night, but once you read the letter, why didn't you just give it back to me?"

   Aunt Cora looked genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

   Blue looked exasperated. "In the letter. It said that on the minute I turn ten, something strange was supposed to happen."

   Aunt Cora didn't look much more enlightened. Blue widened her eyes. "So-o, that was the strange thing. I was blown off my feet."

   Blue didn't get what it meant, to be blown off her feet. It looked like Aunt Cora didn't either. But the letter said that all the meanings of what happened would be worked out at Maelstrom. Blue continued on. "I was blown away because of the weird thing that's supposed to happen. Not 'cause of the charm."

   Aunt Cora looked liked she understood. Then she straightened up. She shifted Camille, who had her eyes screwed shut and her hands over her ears (Camille didn't like fighting), to her other hip. And then she held out her hand like she was expecting something. Blue shot a confused look at it.

   "Your necklace. I'll be keeping it until the night of the 25th." She looked down at Blue. She was definitely mad now.

   "But -- but why?" shot Blue, who was now staring at Aunt Cora helplessly.

   "For sassing and back-talking me, young miss. As punishment."

   Blue felt her cheeks heat with shame and anger. It was one thing to be scolded by Aunt Cora, who rarely ever did so, and it was another to be scolded by Aunt Cora when she was mad. But to be scolded by Aunt Cora when she was mad in front of her family -- That was embarassing.

   She held her aunt's gaze in her own for a second before harshly taking off her chain and slapping it down onto Cora's palm. There was a sharp smack. Blue felt her hand burn like fire and ice, but did not show it. Neither did Cora. Both were furious at each other -- Blue at Aunt Cora for taking the only thing she had from her mother away, and Aunt Cora for Blue's behavior. (Aunt Cora was very nice, but she did not tolerate bad behavior well).

   Camille had her face hidden again, and Stephen and Andy were being very quiet, watching on with wide eyes at Blue's behavior towards Aunt Cora.

   Blue was furious. She straightened her posture and kept her gaze locked with her aunt. Blue promptly turned on her heel, severing her stare-down with Aunt Cora. She threw her platinum hair over shoulder and straightened her stance again. She walked out of the kitchen with her nose lifted slightly higher than normal, and her shoulders thrown back. One thing Blue believed is if you have to go, don't go like you were crushed. Go with pride that you fought.

   She could feel her aunt's infuriated gaze, along with her two cousins' dumbfounded ones, and even Camille's, who had peeked out between a crack in her fingers, following her out the kitchen doorway. Thoughts were racing through Blue's mind, thoughts about how imprudent she was being, about how she should go and apoligize to her aunt for talking back, from the mature and grown-up self. But the thoughts of pride and white-hot anger from her rebel self flattened any other thought of what she should be doing in a channel of fire, pride, and hurt. Her messenger wings followed her out, uncharacteristically not making any tinkles. She climbed the stairs in a fit of quiet rage. But when she got to the door of her room, her raging-army-general character dropped, and she slammed the door, hard, just as any other angered ten-year-old would. She did not notice how not a sound was coming from below. Nor how every window in the house rattled in its frame.

              Blue Larae Kerherring was mad.