Mortem Obire

Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Of fraying threads and destinies unwoven

Moonlight was soft against her skin, a soft sigh ringing out in the still air before the sound of a bow singing shattered that stillness with the grace and force of a sledgehammer. Gold eyes focused, staring at the two arrows fired in a single shot. One of them was perfect, hitting one target dead centre, whilst the second arrow was ever so slightly off – a consequence of trying to split her focus and her power between them equally. "Ugh," she grumbled, scowling and pouting in a single breath. It wasn't even a fraction of what she had seen her father do in her few visions of him. It wasn't enough, and Harriet didn't think it would ever be enough. Two arrows was her limit. Right then, at least. Three arrows were both hard to hold on a bow designed to hold one single arrow, and they went everywhere other than where she was aiming.

Though archery was probably one of the safer talents given to her by her father's blood. Photokinesis was probably the most immediately destructive of her abilities, what with its propensity for causing fire and razing forests to the ground. Plague was undeniably the next destructive, what with the amount of lives she had already claimed with its misuse. Her stomach twisted at the reminder, guilt feeling as though it ought to be eating her alive as she stood there, desperately reminding herself that she wasn't Tom Riddle and she never would be.

Surely she just had to save as many people from ghastly fates to make up for that? That had to be why she was cursed with prophecy. Though perhaps in that respect, it was a gift.

Harriet swallowed, a lump in her throat at that. She wished that there was some easy, simple way to control her powers. She wished she had a sibling or a father to teach her how to do so safely. Yet as far as she could see there were currently only two beings with control over plague – herself and her father, the latter being someone she could not go to.

Chewing on her lip, she scowled, wishing then for a vision which gave her step by step instructions for how to tone down her plague ability. No visions came, fickle as her control over them currently was, and she flopped back against the soft grass, knowing then that she might have to take a short break from her archery practice sessions. Moonlight might have been her friend when it came to avoiding her father's attention, but her visions had given her an inkling that someone else was beginning to take notice of her regular nightly archery practice.

Her father wasn't the only divine being out there, and his twin sister's domain involved the moon. Her apparent aunt was taking an interest in her, fleeting and fickle as it was. Harriet had never associated an aunt's interest with anything good. The very thought sent shivers down her spine. She had never met the Hunters of Artemis before, but she knew if she didn't stop then that would soon change. Holding the interest of a god or a goddess was never a good thing – indeed, Harriet thought a sensible person would run for the hills. She wasn't a sensible person, though the interest of Artemis was arguably slightly kinder than most.

Yet Harriet knew – eventually – she would hold the interest of her father. Why wouldn't the most ridiculously powerful child of his earn his attention? Her stomach twisted nervously at the thought, the knowledge that all secrets eventually were unearthed. Knowledge and reason were his domains, after all.

A sigh escaped her, even as she teleported back home. It was strange not to think of apparition as apparition. Witches and Wizards didn't exist there. She let out a shaky breath at that reminder, freezing as a vision slammed into sight. An arrow notched to a bowstring, whisperings of illness as it struck its target, guided by her father's hand. Harriet frowned, wondering then about it and what it meant.

"Harriet?" Her mother appeared in her periphery.

She smiled at that. "I'm back," she called, almost skipping to the sofa and plonking down on the soft cushions. "Though I probably won't be going out again anytime soon. My... aunt looks like she might begin to take interest otherwise," she murmured, heedless of the worried look her mother sent her and the way her fingers clutched at her as though she were a passing dream which might otherwise vanish into nothingness. It wasn't like her mother could stop her from going out when she could teleport. Yet that hadn't quite stopped her from compromising with a curfew, lest she stay out too late when she had to be up for school the next day.