Magic? || Years 5-7

Elijah: Year 5

The pain was blinding, consuming Amisty's body as if she were ash, breaking her into pieces and putting her back together just to do it again. A girl made of glass can only be broken so many times, after all.

"No, no, no," She whispered, clinging to the remnants of life as if it were water slipping through her fingers. "No, nononononono NO! NO!"

Every breath ached deep within her lungs as if the air itself were poisonous. Her spine curved, curling her body in on itself as she tried in vain to escape from the pain, escape from the fire that burned from where magic took root when she was first born. She was a witch, however, and she could not run from what she was, no matter how hard she tried.

She screamed, but it only made the pain worse. Tearing through her veins and skin like knives of ice and flame with jagged edges and poisoned ends, each a new wound, a new scar, a new source of torture.

"D-Draco," She sobbed, her voice raspy and desperate as her vision spotted with vibrant colors. "Draco, call someone, anyone, please -- please!"

Visions of silhouettes and long forgotten ancestors spin past, leaping around with joyful expressions and welcoming gazes, nudging her along as she writhed on the cold floor of the empty classroom. That same sire was back, his pace slower, his expression more somber.

"DRACO, CALL MADAME POMFREY!" She shouted, breaking off in a howl as her very bones burned. "HELP ME! DO SOMETHING!"

A knife dragged through her spine, splitting through her skin and tearing and cutting and hurting, hurting, hurting...

"PLEASE!"

The lights swayed overhead in synchronization with the pounding of her heart echoing, echoing, echoing in her ears and head and splitting her skull.

"Please, please, please, please, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease -- "

Her blood rushes on, rumbling over all other noise as mindless, mumbled pleads spilled from her tongue. The lights flashed suddenly and then dimmed, darker and darker and darker and darker... until the world was so dark it wasn't even black. It was non-existent.

And she fell.

»»————- ♡ -————««

It was quiet and peaceful when Amisty woke, her body enveloped in a familiar warmth as her eyes slowly blinked open.

"Good morning," Her mother smiled down at her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. "How are you?"

"Tired," Amisty whispered, not quite sure that she trusted her voice. "Very, very tired."

"Does it hurt?" Echo murmured softly, adjusting the soft, fluffy blanket around Amisty's shoulders.

"Yeah," Amisty blinked, turning her head to the side. "A lot."

"Where?"

Amisty paused and wiped her eyes, "Everywhere."

"And?"

"My heart hurts," She admitted softly. "My heart feels like it's snapping in two over and over again."

Echo hummed, her eyes sad and smile sadder, "I'm afraid that's what life can be like sometimes, my lo -- "

Amisty whimpered.

"That's what life is like sometimes, Amisty," Echo corrected herself gently, entwining her fingers with her daughter's. "The world is not kind, especially to those of good heart. That's why we fight. Maybe not in a war, but we fight."

"I'm tired of fighting, Mom," She closed her eyes. "I don't want to keep fighting when I know what the outcome will be."

"You can't give up now," Echo whispered. "You're only fifteen, Amisty, you have so much ahead of you."