all my own stunts

a wedding, a witch, and a shitton of fire

"It's my wedding day," Charlotte says blankly. Around her, the ceremony hall burns.

"Lottie, run!" Danica cries. Charlotte's fiancee- her wife, for one hour and twenty-three minutes- is bleeding profusely on the floor, one of her legs completely gone. Tables and chairs and very expensive decorations are broken and burning all around them. Blood drips from a cut on Charlotte's arm, running down her dark skin and landing on the beautiful dress she's been waiting and waiting to wear. Asher, Charlotte's brand-new brother-in-law, appears suddenly next her, grabbing her hand and tugging her away. Charlotte had planned for a lot of things to go wrong- her dress to rip, the rings to get lost, her parents to show up- but she had not planned for this.

One of the little witches runs by, shrieking with laughter and throwing small fireballs. Most of the rest of them are still standing around a circle drawn in the blood of wedding guests, chanting ominously. Charlotte doesn't know what the fuck they're trying to do but she hates it. She hates it. She hates them.

"It's my wedding day," Charlotte says, angry.

She reaches out, suddenly, and grabs the little witch in the black robes by her long black hair and pulls as hard as she can. The girl falls to the floor, and Charlotte kicks her, overcome with the intensity of her anger, kicks her hard in the side until she hears a sickening crack and her side seems to cave in. The little witch goes from shouting in anger to gasping in pain. Behind them, the witch in white robes, standing in the center of the circle, has started sparking.

"Holy shit," Asher blurts out. The witch in white is growing now, towering three, four, five feet above the rest of them with their red and black robes. He's still growing.

The little witch at Charlotte's feet gasps out a laugh. "Ooooh," she cries breathlessly, apparently not in too much pain to taunt them, "you're in for it now."

Asher drags Charlotte away again- they're so close to the door now. Anyone who can still walk is running, but most of them are on the floor, dead or dying. Danica is on the floor, dead or dying, Charlotte can't tell. 

Asher pulls her out the door. She can't stop looking back. The witch in white is encased in a bright white light. He raises his hands.

They run out into the street. Police and firefighters have arrived on the scene, ready to storm the recreation center Charlotte and Danica had chosen for their reception. Smoke rises from the building and that strange white light shines brightly from the windows. People stand around, curious or afraid. Charlotte recognizes one or two of them as guests at her wedding. Strangers are shouting, trying to figure out what's going on. Police are shouting, trying to figure out how best to get control of the situation.

"That's a bad idea."

A voice, from behind them. Charlotte turns around and sees an older man, gray hair and back military straight, looking right at her.

"Um. Excuse me?" Charlotte tries.

"If those people go into that building they're going to die," he says.

"Oh," Charlotte says, confused. "That's terrible. Is there... anything we can do?"

The man continues to stare at her, strangely intense. "You can stop them," he says, like that should be obvious.

"Excuse me?" Charlotte says again because it most certainly isn't.

"Witches only feed on the anguish of highly magical people. You can stop this."

"I'm- I can't," Charlotte says, shaking her head, "I can't do anything like that."

"Yes you can," he says firmly, reaching out and grabbing her shoulder. "You have to save them. You have to stop this!"

"I can't!" She shouts back, "Don't you think I would? I can't do anything!"

"Dani," Asher says suddenly. "It's... It's Danica."

Charlotte stares at him. The man's hand drops off of her shoulder.

Asher is still so pale, breathing labored and favoring his left side. Charlotte wonders when he was hurt as they escaped. Could she have helped him if she wasn't stuck frozen? Could she have saved any of her friends? Stopped anyone from dying? There's no telling now.

"Goddamnit!" The man swears under his breath. "So you have no magical ability at all?"

That bit's directed at her. Charlotte shakes her head. She doesn't have any magic- never wanted any either. Using magic is incredibly illegal- in some parts of the world, it's still legal to kill babies born with magic. In most first-world countries, children with magical abilities are given daily medication to suppress it. Danica didn't take anything like that, but there were ways for parents to cheat the tests. That would also be incredibly illegal, of course, but surely Danica knows (knew) Charlotte wouldn't report her or her family to any sort of authority. Surely she would have told her about this.

"Goddamnit," the man says softly, "so the one without any ability survived. Not that I'm not pleased you two made it out, of course," he adds hastily.

Charlotte doesn't mind honestly. The icy numbness of shock is slowly giving way to the total, impossible pain of everyone you know and love dying very suddenly and she thinks she really would rathered have died with Danica than live without her- her wife. God, they'd only been married an hour.

Across the street, the police are heading into the building. The door slams shut behind them, to the confusion of the officers outside.

"She didn't- it's not that she didn't trust you, Charlotte!" Asher is saying. "We weren't allowed to tell anyone, growing up."

Oh. Right. Her wife was keeping a huge part of her identity hidden from her. No big deal. Not like Charlotte had given everything she had to this relationship- not like she'd told Danica every nitty gritty detail about herself, showed her the good things and the ugly, selfish parts of her, not like they'd sworn not to keep secrets and hurt each other. Not like they were married, or anything.

"This is- this is insane. This is- too much," Charlotte says.

The building that has recently held the biggest event of her life explodes with little warning. The windows blow out, huge chunks of the walls go flying, and the ceiling collapses in. From the rubble, the clan of witches fly into the air. The one in white must be twelve feet tall now, and still shining a bit with that same cold light. He looks around at the crowd that's slowly gathered and grins, all teeth and no kindness.

"I think," he says in a deep, booming voice, "you had better start running now."

The people still in the street, previously frozen in awe, start to panic, running in every direction, shouting and crying in a cacophony of pointless sound.

"This way!" The old man shouts, pulling Charlotte and by extention Asher down an alley. 

Behind them, chaos reigns.

The witches in red spread out, throwing fire balls and what look like lightning strikes at people, cars, buildings, and whatever else crosses their path. The white witch stands in the rubble of a recreational center that had only recently held a wedding reception. In the distance, a little witch in black, the newest of her clan, crawls away.