It's My Element,

Chapter 1

Piling another piece of chopped timber into the cell of the cooling ambers, my skin tingled and pricked at the warmth, rising a small smile to my lips. I turned my attention to the cracked window of the almost ancient cottage, passed down from generation to generation of my family.

The land was always lush and warm, soothed by the afternoon chill from the breeze and regular rain from the north. Branches extended their arms into the sky, begging for the sun to give them warmth and light. Families of sweet blue birds hummed and chirped to one another. Distant spotted deer jumped and leapt in playful manners through a river stream. Rabbits and their babies attempted to sneak into the front garden, determined to steal the goods that lay within. Giggling quietly to myself and waving a dismissive hand at the sight, I summoned a barrier to prevent the theft from taking place. A barrier naked to the human eye, allowing the world to not go changed. Turning my attention back to the fireplace, the ambers refused to burn and ignite the wood. "Oh,"
          I upsettingly remarked, directed mostly at the unwilling flames. Kneeling on an old rug patterned with ancient symbols and symbols of healing, I direct my attention to the chopped timber.
"It's your element," my mother's words echoed in my head, replaying all the times she used to re-tell my younger self. Allowing my eyes to rest and close, I mutter the same spell that my grandparents and family used to repeat to me. My fingertips begin to tingle, my palm begins to sweat, and a stinging sensation claws at my arms. 'When a witch is born, they are destined to do great things. Whether it be for good or worse. It's always great in the end.' I forced open my eyes and opened my right palm. A warm sensation grew across my hand. A small orange flame swirls and dances there. Small for now. I brought the flame close to my face and blew a gentle gust into it, allowing the flame within my palm to grow enough to support it within the fireplace and engulf the timber. Placing it into its new home, I stare intently and patiently. Watching and waiting for the warmth to grow and fill the chilling room.

Knock! Knock!

"Huh?!" I exclaim to myself. Oddly loudly. Visitors are not an occurrence in this part of the woods, let alone at the front door.

'Who and why are they here?'
I question myself, slowly and quietly standing myself back up. Cautious flags raised within me, fear and uncertainty almost engulfing my being. The sound of the rusty door handle creaked and the door groaned as it slowly opened. 

To Be Continue....