Forever Green

~56~ The Mistakes of the Past

Figures blurred around Lenesa, forming and dissolving before she could fully make out their features, the details blurry and shifting like grain. Nua stood beside her, watching the scenes impassively.

"Why are we here, Nua?" Lenesa asked, her irritation surging within her and bringing to mind the suggestion of violence. With a clench of her jaw, she forced the impulse back, and focused once again on the visions before them. It was then that she noticed she was still holding hands with the other witch, and she tried to pull out of Nua's grip.

"We must be in contact with one another for you to see," Nua said, yanking Lenesa back to her side.

"To see what?" Lenesa snapped. She could feel the shadows roiling at her fingertips, impatient at the lack of violence in the moment.

Nua grinned at Lenesa's question, the expression hollow behind her eyes. "To see your full potential."

The blurry forms around them suddenly solidified, intensifying in clarity and color. Lenesa saw herself walking through the battleground they had just come from, townspeople cowering in fear as she approached.

"Your magic gives you the ability to mend bones, friend," Nua whispered. "But have you ever broken one?"

A snap cut through the air, and Lenesa jumped before realizing it came from the scene in front of them. Her mirage-form had just stretched out a hand and snapped the spine of the closest man in front of her with her magic.

Lenesa watched silently as the mirage-figure fell, the thrumming in her blood a mix of glee and revulsion. She thought of the people she had hurt on the way to confront Decliteur that evening and put a stop to his plans.

"I have," she whispered. Theiden's daughter came to her mind. She had almost hurt Em then, too.

Nua sighed, sounding content. "Good. But that's not all." The mirage of Lenesa struck out again, and this time a different figure collapsed, screaming as their stomach ripped open without the assistance of a blade. "Have you ever tried making wounds, when all you've done before is heal them?"

The shadows lurking beneath her scar burned as Lenesa thought of her great-aunt's sacrifice, and how Lenesa had tried to save her by transferring the mortal injuries to her own body. "I have." Her voice was like stone, matching the heavy feeling in her heart.

"Excellent," Nua purred. "Then what could be holding you back? Isn't it so much easier, so much less effort, to bring death than struggle to keep the delicate flower of life alive? It's a thankless job anyway."

The mirage shifted, erasing the battlefield to be replaced with a different version of Lenesa, this one not covered in shadows, but pouring all her magic into one of the townspeople who had already been struck down by the fighting, their injuries too grave for hope of recovery. As they watched the person die, the mirage-version of Lenesa let out a cry and slumped over the body, exhausted and grieving, her efforts wasted.

But Lenesa could only think of the innkeeper's son, and the life she had been able to coax back into him.

"So you see," Nua said, "let's stop pretending that you'll refrain from all this violence. There's Turned magic in you already, however it got there, and we all know there's no recovering from that. Let us fight side-by-side, as sisters should, and rid the world of these people who continue to torment us."

Lenesa's grip tightened on Nua's hand. "We aren't really sisters," she said, and Nua frowned at the warning in her tone. "And if anyone has a chance of recovering from Turned magic, it's me."

The illusions shattered as Lenesa drew on her magic – her real magic, not her great-aunt's or corrupted facsimiles. She couldn't kill the Turned witch, but Nua wouldn't stop until she had achieved her goal, and the only way Lenesa could prevent that without Turning herself was by changing it.