Reflections of power

Epilogue

She stared at the girl. 

It was a pretty face, with big, green eyes and a wide mouth. And her nose was long. Maybe she would have looked pretty with a smaller nose.

That was not what she was looking at, though. There was a scar above her left eyebrow, shaped almost like a crescent moon. It stole all the focus off her face.

'Are you alright?' The girl asked.

The woman sniffed, trying not to start sobbing right there. Nodded. 

She turned, grabbed the book the girl asked for and shoved it into her chest. Then, she turned around and walked to her desk behind the counter. It was too much to hope for the other one as well, but that was what kept the woman alive all these years- hope. 

And it paid off. The man came in, a few minutes later. He looked slightly out of place in a library with a fat backpack and an almost completely obscured face.

The woman clenched her eyes shut, and sent up a prayer of thanks. She couldn't stop her sobbing now- tears cascaded freely over her wrinkled cheeks.

She dreamt of performing the ritual for a long, long time. She could never forget how to do it. The chants came freely out her mouth, flowing smoothly. She didn't stutter once, even if the words were twisting her tongue in ways she couldn't have thought of. The pendant around her neck started to get warmer. She took it off and held it with utmost reverence. It  was the only thing she had that reminded her of home. She opened the draw beside her and clutched a sharp letter opener, its pointed tip glinting in the light. 

And she didn't stop chanting. 

As the chanting came to an end, she held the letter opener over her left wrist. 

I will always love you, Alya.

When she slit her wrist, the blood spilled from it stained the glass pendant. The magic made it glow and heat up.

The woman's last thought was about her sister back home.