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chapter twenty-four. . . rise up
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MALIA STEADIED ON her feet as the coldness of the shiver ran down her spine. The coldness had never left her body. Her skin was paler than usual, she could see that from the back of her hands. The ship she was held captive on seemed to have carried the coldness, as if she was standing in the middle of a graveyard. But with the want of waking herself up, Malia had to ignore the feeling of death surrounding her, she knew that those who had drunk from the Mortal Cup, not all of them had survived. She could feel their death.
As she wondered down the corridor of the ship the souls of her bare feet pressed against the shattered glass on the floor and which she hadn't come to notice until she stood above it. Malia's brows furrowed in confusion as she slowly looked down towards the shattered glass, questioning where it had come from before tilting her head to the side in curiosity.
"Do you know how I did it?" Within a blink the shattered glass had been picked up, as if it had never broken to begin with. Malia's brows furrowed before she looked up at her mother who stood by her side with her eyes glued on the fixed glass that once held her captive, and one she had managed to break through.
Malia pursed her lips with thought. How could the glass have broken? What could've broken it? "Y-You amplified your voice." She guessed.
Tatia grinned, knowing she birthed a smart child. One she wished she could've known. "How did I amplify my voice?"
Malia shrugged. "I-I don't know."
Tatia sighed knowing a way in which she could explain it to the brunette. "I gave it direction." Within her hold was a recorder and a cup. "For example, by putting this recorder into the cup it didn't just amplify my voice. It gave it direction, it focused. It was used as a tool by focusing it." Tatia had pressed the cup against the glass. "If you're going to use your voice as a weapon, you need to learn to do the same thing." She explained before a scream erupt from the recorder causing the glass to shatter and settle onto the ground once again.
Malia knew she had to achieve this, for her to wake up, for her to be able to help her friends with fighting Valentine. She knew what Valentine was capable of doing so much more damage. The Banshee was finally going to learn how to use her powers for the better, not just for finding death or knowing it is about to happen, but use it as a weapon. It was no longer about premonitions, it was about fighting.
The brunette's brows furrowed, unaware of where she stood within her mind as she knew she no longer stood on the ship. As she turned on the souls of her feet in the circle, she begun to recognise where she stood. Not being there for some time had led her to curiosity, but she figured where she stood with the amount of monitors in the Ops Centre. She stood in the New York Institute, all alone. Malia had suspected it to be busy, where everyone was working and which was how she remembered it, but it seemed so unfamiliar as she stood in a quiet and empty space.
