Stolen Waters (Descendants Jay x OC)

Chapter 42

3rd Person POV

A figure shrouded in a cloak approached the quiet apartment building. Each step was measured and calculated as it stopped to stare up at the building. A smirk grew on the person's face, the rest shrouded in darkness, before striding forward. As it moved, a trail of ice followed where it had stood, covering the ground with frost before disappearing a second later.

The figure made their way into the building and down the hallway, trailing its long pale fingers across the side of the wall. Where their fingers touched, tendrils of ice appeared, pulsing a vibrant blue before melting away. The darkness clung to the figure as it turned a corner, each footstep echoing loudly, to see what was around the next bend.

It found a body.

It was a woman, with blond hair and light purple highlights, clutching a small beaded purse. She was curled up on the ground, with her skirt tangled with her legs, and her hands underneath her head. The figure stopped, crouching down to inspect the woman, the cloack pooling down around the person's feet. Suddenly, the woman gave a little snort and rolled onto her side breathing lightly. The person tipped a cloaked head staring intently at the woman.

The person smoothly stood up, looking up, no longer interested with the woman sleeping in the middle of an apartment building.

A foot appeared out of the cloak, dainty and clad in a dark boot, and stepped over the woman, letting the cloak trail over the woman. As the figure walked away from the woman, she shivered, once again curling into a small ball, and wrapping her arms around her.

The figure came across three more bodies, but each one it ignored, preferring to step over each one, or go around the body, treating them like an inconvenience rather than those trapped under a sleeping curse.

At last, near the back of the apartment building, the figure finally stopped. It spun around to face a door, its cloak flying around in an arc before settling back down onto the person's body.

The person closed its eyes and let its head slump down, seemingly in a trance. Slowly, it reached out its hand and place it on the door, breathing in deeply. Its eyes snapped open, and its hand fell back down into the folds of the cloak. Quickly, its hand shot out again and grasped the door handle, before shooting back, emitting a loud scream that echoed around the quiet building. The figure collapsed onto its knees, cradling its hand gently, and inspecting the burned fingers, which had red stripes all along the fingers where the person had touched the door handle.

Angrily, the person jumped up and flung its other hand out, pointing it at the door handle. Long strikes of lightening emitted from it, bright and blinding, hitting the door, causing it to burst open, the wood blackened and warped. Splinters of wood and embers fell into the room beyond, the little flashes of light illuminating a small room before dying down.

The person stepped in, seeming not to care as its booted feet stepped carelessly on the embers and the splinters of wood littering the floor.

Its hand still cradled within the depths of its cloak, the person reached their uninjured hand out again, conjuring a light that hung in the middle of the room, flickering and crackling with lightening, burning the ceiling above.

The room illuminated, the figure turned to the dark shape on the bed, gesturing with its hands for the light to hover closer. Its light showed a girl tangled in her blankets, face pale and sweaty, with trails of red liquid tracing the corners of her mouth where she had coughed up blood.

The person moved forward slowly, its footsteps muffled in the carpet as it looked down upon the girl. As if on cue, she coughed, causing a spatter of blood to fall onto her blanket, staining it red.

Reaching its hand into its robes, the figure drew a long knife. The girl moaned, and moved underneath her blankets, her dark hair tangling underneath her, the normally cared for curls becoming wild and tangled.

Sighing, the figure raise the knife, and plunged it down.

It hit the girl straight in the chest, right above her heart, but instead of entering her skin, her skin seemed to shatter, shards of magic flying in every direction. The figure shied back, turning its face away and letting the shards the cloak instead of its skin.

Turning back around, the figure sheathed the knife and approached the girl again, looking at the spot where the knife had hit, which looked like a shattered mirror, on the girl's skin. Raising her hand again, the figure magically peeled the glamour off of the girl, shard after shard coming off at a time, and throwing each piece across the room, careful to not let it touch its skin. By the time it was done, the girl looked different. Her face, which once had been flawed, was perfect, her hair no longer wild, but perfect, each lock lying in place as a halo around her head. Long scars surrounded her neck, and traveled down her body, only to be covered up by her shirt.

The biggest difference was her skin. Long black tendrils were spread along her skin, pulsing angrily and digging into her skin.

The girl coughed again, and golden blood spattered the once red-stained sheets, which were now covered in golden flecks.

Crouching down, the figure knelt on the floor, making sure that its knees were not resting on any shards of glamour and freezing the carpet beneath them. Gently, the person reached out and slipped its hand underneath the covers, pulling out the girl's arm and resting it on top of the blankets.

Her wrist looked the worst, as it seemed that all of the dark tendrils centered around a spot on the middle of her wrist, the sign of the winter court outlined in a dark throbbing mass.

The figure reached under its cloak and once again pulled out the knife, before leaning over the girl's arm, and digging the tip of the knife into her flesh. The girl moaned, trying to move her arm away, but the figure held her arm tightly with its other hand, wincing as the girl's arm rubbed against her burned skin and the ice forming on her skin, which caused the figure's grip to slip slightly on the girl's arm.

Dark rivulets of black liquid ran down the girl's wrist and onto her blankets, mixing in with the gold flecks of blood that had already fallen. The girl whimpered as the figure dug the knife deeper into her skin before yelling out in pain. The figure ignored the writhing girl, as it finally drew the knife out of the girl's skin, throwing it to the floor.

The girl quieted down as the figure placed its hand over over her wrist, and started chanting. The words were quiet and muffled, to quiet to hear, but the ice covering the floor spread, and the tendrils of black magic around the girl's wrist turned to ice, slowly spreading up her arm, causing the girl to whimper and thrash more than before.

Hand still over her girl's skin, the figure finally stopped chanting as a piece of metal flew into its hand. Quickly standing up, the figure looked down at the symbol that was nestled in its hand. It was shaped like a broken crown on one side, which seemed to shimmer maliciously. Gingerly flipping it over, the figure stared at the other side, which held the insigna of a dead and withered three.

The moans of fear from the bed suddenly stopped, and the figure looked up to see that the once black tendrils were now a pale blue. The shade of ice.

Tucking the pendant away, the figure stepped forward in time to see the girl's eyes flick open.