Chrysopoeia

Chapter 4 - Newspapers and Books

Cassia awoke in her own bed, her entire body stiff and aching. Bandages wrapped around her shoulder, and one arm rested in a sling. Groaning, she sat up and winced at the stabbing sensation in her back. Hobbling out of bed, she awkwardly wrapped a thick blanket around herself with her free hand and rubbed her face. She was dressed in clean pyjamas. Mum and Nan must have changed her clothes while she was unconscious. She fumbled with the door handle before creaking it open. Voices echoed down the hall.

"It must have wandered over from the New Forest," Dad said. "It's the only place Red Lions have been found."

"Poor thing must have been scared out of its wits," Mum said with concern. "No wonder it was in such a frenzy."

"Scared or not, the beast did a great deal of damage. It'll take the village weeks to recover, even with magic. It's lucky it didn't get put down."

Cassia limped into the sitting room where her family and Sebastian sat, tired and ragged. Firewhiskey stood on the coffee table beside an empty tin of biscuits, and ashy footsteps were smeared all over the floor. The windows were shattered, and streaks of black stretched from the outside in.

"Good morning," Cassia croaked.

Mum hopped from her seat. "Oh, more like good afternoon, sweetie. How are you?" She put an arm around Cassia and felt her forehead.

"Mostly okay," Cassia said. She looked at each of them. "What about all of you? Is everyone alright?"

"You took the brunt of it, Cass," Sebastian said, sipping his tea.

Dad frowned from his armchair, his mustache twitching. "I told you to go home. What were you thinking?"

Mum helped Cassia sink onto the couch as her head began to throb dully. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror across the room. Bruises spread across her cheek and jaw, and she had circles under her eyes as bad as Sebastian's.

"I wasn't," she said, no strength to explain more.

"Clearly," Dad sighed. "I'm glad you're alive. You're a talented Witch, Cassia. We've taught you how to handle tough situations, but Merlin's beard, pick your battles more wisely. You're only sixteen!"

Mum handed her a potion. Cassia muttered her thanks and drank it, the viscous texture oozing down her throat. Warmth spread through her chest, and the pounding in her temples subsided.

"You'll be the talk of the school this week with those battle scars," Grandad chuckled.

Cassia grinned at him. She set her glass on the coffee table with a clink. "What happened to the village? Is everyone... okay?"

She wasn't sure if she truly wanted the answer.

"It's too early to tell," Nan said. "The Harrow's home is destroyed, not even smithereens left. They're staying with the Blackstones for now, but they have their own problems to deal with. They lost every one of their cattle. Not a single one survived. But as for human casualties... We haven't received word of any."

Cassia slowly craned her neck to look through the destroyed windows. Outside, the earth was muddy and scorched. Trees, tall and green only yesterday, were charred skeletons looming over the carcasses of broken cottages. Villagers milled about, salvaging what could be fixed, clearing out debris, or simply standing without any thought of where to begin.

Ruination but not despair.

"What about the cats?" Cassia asked.

"Fine. They're all fine," Mum said. "Mungo's whiskers got a little singed, but that's the worst of it. They're all hiding around here somewhere. I can't imagine they're eager to come out any time soon."