The Strength to Go On | Write to Rank 2023

Blue Belt | Greed

Perhaps I was too ambitious for taking this on.

No.

I shook my head, refocusing on the sprig of herbs I laid onto the rock on the floor in front of me. It was just a dark basalt, innocent looking if it weren't for the waves of energy emanating from its rough surface and licking up my arms. Something inside me recoiled at its touch, hiding somewhere behind my belly.

The customer, a young woman with curly hair and a shy smile, had told me she thought it was cursed; said she had nothing but bad luck ever since she brought it back home from her geology field trip.

And boy was she wrong.

This was not a curse. This was the pure, unadulterated rage of an ancestor. How she lasted so long with this in her house—a whole summer!—was beyond me.

I stood up from my crouch and crossed the empty basement's concrete floor to my work desk, taking up my matches from the bottom drawer and a small, dusty book from the shelf up top.

Sure, it was ambitious of me to think I could contain such a wrathful spirit once it was released from its prison, but I knew I had to try. If I didn't, I'd never get stronger, I'd never get a name out for myself.

I've had a few years of practice, now, anyways. I knew I could do it.

No, I had to do it, I didn't have a choice.

Distant footsteps tapped on the floor above me as my lover moved about the kitchen.

They were why I was doing this. We needed the money.

I brushed my hands down my favorite blouse—a nice, periwinkle blue—before returning to the floor, matches and spellbook in hand.

Once again, I crouched low, lighting my match. The moment I ignited the herbs, I'd need to flip to page 18, gather all of my willpower into my belly, and read the containment spell aloud. No mess ups. No backtracks. Just calm focus and steady hands.

Now cross-legged, I held the match up to the end of the bundle, watching the fire take its hold and release a sweet, earthy smoke into the air. I flicked the flame out and opened my book with one hand, hovering the other over the stone.

Magic filled my lungs and mingled with the smoke when I took a deep breath.

This was it.

I released my magic, feeling the silent words leave my mouth and the power build at my fingertips. It grew and grew until it was red hot. I wanted to jerk my hand away but I didn't, narrowing my gaze onto the stone. Energy brewed and bubbled at the surface, leaking out from its coarse pores like lava. It grew and morphed in form and height until it was one foot, then two feet, then ten feet tall. A shriek only I could hear split the air and the whole form spasmed and frothed.

I pushed on, speaking each word with forceful emphasis, my eyes flickering back and forth between the enlarging spirit and the script in my hand.

The magic slowly formed into small twigs, and then branches, ever thickening and strengthening as it encased the spirit like a birdcage. Sweat beaded on my brow as I began speaking the last few lines, my fingers shivering from the strain.

"Love, dinner's ready!"

I flinched when my partner tapped their knuckles on the basement door, a dull, invasive sound that immediately snapped my focus in half.

The branches crumbled.

No no no!

I gasped, desperately rushing to pick the spell back up. I flew from line to line, feeling the power roil and strain like a taut rubber band inside me.

The spirit shrieked once more. Energy and red wrath spiraled and lashed out around it, cracking the concrete and sending shards flying into the air. Hair whipped across my face. And then a glowing, ethereal arm snapped out like a whip. Sharp claws slashed my spell book with enough force to slam me into the ground and I screamed.

Pain pierced through my shoulder and bells sung in my head, loud enough to drone out the spirit's squeals. I didn't even hear when the door slammed open and footsteps thudded down the stairs until it was too late. My heart dropped when I saw my partner sprint across the basement floor in blue jeans and a bathrobe.

"Get out of here!" I screamed. But they didn't listen, snatching up the spellbook scraps and skidding to a halt between me and the spirit.

"What page do you need?" My partner's voice was firm, urgent as they splayed the ripped pages out in front of us, pinning them to the ground with calloused hands. No accusations. No fear. Just trust.

I grit my teeth, pushing myself upright. My shoulder ached with the movement and my vision blurred, but I had no choice. "Page 18," I said. "19 too."

More concrete split and cracked around us as they handed me the page and the house's foundation shuddered. It rattled my bones. My hands trembled as I lifted the page and began reading once more, strapping my body of every ounce of power it held.

I raised my arm and pointed at the spirit writhing behind us. My partner didn't turn. They watched me, a fierce look in their gray eyes that kept me going.

Energy seared at my fingertips as the silent spell spilled from my lips, pulsing at the rate of my heartbeat, growing faster and swifter as exhaustion weighed on my muscles.

My head grew heavy. They wrapped their arm around me, supporting my weight, the remaining pages of my spellbook whipping into the air and scattering to the far walls.

A window shattered.

Branches formed once again, straining to take shape around the spirit's wrathful form. My partner's warmth strengthened me. The branches turned into tree trunks, intertwining and solidifying, encasing the spirit.

It pulsed a brilliant white.

The shill sound of the spirit silenced.

And then, it was over.

The spirit vanished like the flame of a blown out candle wick, and a small, marble-sized chunk of energy dropped to the floor with a bounce and a roll before stilling completely. It was pure white, once again looking innocent in its insignificance.

I gasped in a breath of relief and collapsed into the arms of my partner, staring at that marble with my heart pounding and sweat dripping down my face and stinging in the scratches across my skin.

But it wasn't really a relief. I didn't have to look up to know the state of our house, the way the walls warped, the way the foundation cracked and rippled like the mudstone left behind by an ancient lake.

I caused this. My ambition caused this.

My lover wrapped their arms tighter around me, pressing their forehead to my shoulder. I felt their breaths shudder in their ribs. I drew my arms around them, my eyes never leaving the center floor even as dinner grew cold and the sun set, lighting the basement in golds and yellows through the small window slots.