Millennium Academy - The Fractured Shadow - Novel I

Chapter 15 - Emila Serpens

Emila whirled through the misty air, and landed with a, "Thud!"

The atmosphere around her was damp and heavy. There was a lack of oxygen. Her breathing came in ragged, breathless gasps.

Her bottom was wet, having landed in a moist field. It seemed to be morning. She could hear toads and frogs "talk to each other," with throaty ribbits and cantankerous croaks.

"Oh, serpents..." Emila felt hot tears streaming down her face. She was utterly alone. No Razz, no Haleth, no Lillith, and no Selene.

She struggled to get up for a minute, like a laggy video game. Painstakingly turning her head and almost breaking her neck from the force she exerted, she looked around. It was a beautiful, albeit clean sight. The bayou was all shades of marsh-green, like a painting, and mangrove trees rooted their spindly toes into the bog. Across the swamp from her sat a birchwood hut, with a reed-thatched roof hut.

Almost as if she was drowning in mud, she trudged through the atmosphere, slowly as if suddenly transformed into a slug. She almost wished she was. How badly would she have to mess up to finally get something right? And Vera. Oh, Vera. She probably thought Emila hated her by now. And she would be justified in thinking so.

Buried in these murky thoughts, Emila looked up to the sky.

The air is like molasses... Emila thought vaguely, remembering a phrase from a book she had once read. In one dimension, the air was like molasses- thick, dense and hard to move in.

It took quite a while to reach the reed-thatched roof hut. Perhaps an hour or so? Emila had perspiration on her forehead from the humid environment. She was sweating something fierce. But before her trembling fist reached the birchbark door, it swung open and she fell like a dumbbell to the floor.

"Ooh-ee, dearie me, who might this be?"

Emila looked up.

A plump, rosy faced woman stared back down at her from on the step. She had warm brown eyes, and a wide smile. Her graying hair fell to her shoulders in lanky curtains over her pale face. She wasn't wearing your typical grandmotherly outfit. She wore a sage-green colored shawl over her hunched shoulders, and worn out joggers, the color of deep, deep emerald. Her shoes were creamy shaded sneakers- quite unusual.

"...uh..I'm Emila." She got to her feet, rubbing her arm sourly, where she had fallen.

"And I'm the Bayou Witch." She shrieked with laughter, although it wasn't very funny. Emila had the sudden impression that she was related to Professor Oddity. The witch held out her hand to shake, and Emila grabbed it, gripping her hand tightly. Suddenly, the witch's eyes widened.

She sat Emila down at a wooden table, then went off to the kitchen, mumbling. When she came back a moment later, her face was hidden, as she was carrying dishes piled high with food. The delicious smell wafted towards Emila.

Her mouth began watering. She hadn't eaten since the last dinner at Millennium Academy, two days ago. Her stomach grumbled, loudly.

"Shut up!" She whispered to her stomach.

"Whazzat?" the Bayou Witch croaked, spinning around, her eyes growing wider. "Nice here, innit?" She skipped over to where Emila had sat, surprisingly quick for her age and atmosphere, and handed her a plate of fried chicken, perfectly golden brown.

Emila took a wing to be polite. As she chewed, the Bayou Witch scrambled about, knocking over several vases from the shelves. They fell so lethargically that the Witch could do as she pleased and it would still be in the same position as it was before.

"My, aren't you a skinny one, eh? Eat up child, eat up! For the worst is yet to come." She shoved a dumpling, and a pile of fried rice into Emila's mouth.

"How do you move so quickly in this environment?" Emila asked around a mouthful of meat. "Also, your name can't be the Bayou Witch. You had to have had a real name Before. Mind sharing?"

The words came pouring out of her mouth like molasses, slow, sticky, and impossibly frustrating to get out.

The Bayou Witch stopped in her tracks.

"I move quickly because I need to, girlie." she snapped. "And my name ain't your business nor anyone else's!" She sighed.

"I'm sure I could place your accent, though," Emila suggested meekly, seeing as she had touched a nerve.

"REMEMBER YER PLACE, EMILA EMERY SERPENS, AND NEVER MIND BUSINESS THAT ISN'T YERS!" The woman blew, straightening up to her full height. She was terrifying, with the peridot-green flecks in her eyes flashing dangerously like grass in quicksand.

"How do you know my name? I've never even met you before." Emila demanded, sitting up briskly.

"I'm a soothsayer, can't ye tell?" she grumbled, chastened. "Ye'd do best to remember that I'm twice as powerful as any of ye young'uns out at ye ole school." She spooned a ladleful of broth into a birch bark bowl.

"It'll fix yer atmosphere lag, dearie. Last time I'll hp an upstart hero, anyway." She said the last part under her breath, but Emila caught every word of it. She lifted the bowl to her lips and drank, feeling the pressure of the air draining away.

"Wait. You... helped another ..." she couldn't bring herself to say 'hero', as she really couldn't consider herself one.

"Last question, and then yeh're leaving." The witch grunted, and then conceded, "Yes, I helped another. A month or so ago, in fact. Vampire boy. Mess of a kid, if I do say so meself."

Emila choked on her broth. "Vampire, you say?"

"Ye, nosy. Theo, his name was? Theran?"

"Veran." Emila said promptly.

"Yeh, that's it! How'd ye know?"

"Lucky guess." Emila said soberly. "I don't know him at all."