My Super Depressing Story About How I Became The First One

Chapter Five

Evelyn sat on the edge of the couch with her hands on her knees, palms facing up. She had her eyes closed. "Right, Savannah, I am about to let down my shields, I trust that you will not touch me while I do so," she said not opening her eyes.

"Ok," I said, crossing my arms to prevent any accidental touching.

Evelyn's face went slack as she concentrated on dropping her shields. When she opened her eyes again, they were the colour of amber. Wolf eyes.

That was when it hit me, the same warm rush that I had felt when Cain and I touched the night before, followed by a dizzy spell. It wasn't as strong as the one from Cain. I closed my eyes trying to focus on my breathing. Why do I feel like this again?

I unfolded my arms to grip the sides of the couch. Colors of blue, green, yellow, red and purple swirled behind my closed eyes, feeling myself fall back into the sea of colors. I opened my eyes to find that the room had disappeared around me, leaving me alone in a black abyss.

The air was thick and sticky, like I was drowning in tar. I tried to take a deep breath as I coughed through the thickness. Am I standing on my feet or am I still falling? I couldn't tell. I felt weightless and heavy at the same time.

The smell of smoke filled my nose, choking me. I could see a shard of flickering light and I could hear voices. Lots of voices and shouting. The dancing thin line of light widen in the darkness. I could feel material slide across my face. I blinked as the world around me began to come into focused. The light had come from the torches that were held by the people of a massive crowd. They shouted and shook their fists at me. I couldn't figure what they are saying, but whatever it was, it isn't very nice. What did I do?

I looked around. I had seen enough pictures and movies in my history classes to know that I was now back in time. The houses were all of the same decade as Cain's manor, but smaller, telling me that they were at least 16th century. They were all pushed together, and tall enough to block out most of the night sky. Linen hung out windows on lines that stretched out across the dirty cobbled streets to join the opposite buildings.

Most of the crowd wore dirty clothes and grubby faces. I guess they were the peasants. A small group of women to the left of me, wore big dresses that pinched them at the waist, with full, wide skirts. The dresses were made with ridiculous amounts of fabric, all with slashes, embroidery and applied trims. And I guess they were noble woman. The noble men were dressed in doublets with long sleeves laced in place. They paired the doublets with hose, a codpiece and flat shoes.

The smell of smoke was underlined with the smell of piss and shit that was so strong, it made my eyes water. They weren't lying in the history books, when they told you that they had hygiene issues way back then. I tried turning to look at my surroundings but I couldn't move. My hands were tied, as well as my feet. I looked down to find that I was on a platform. Around the platform were hundreds of small bundles of sticks and dry brushes.

The angry crowd surrounded me in a large courtyard with a dirt ground. Where am I? Why am I tied? As I struggled, I felt a beam along the length of my back. I'm tied to a wooden beam. Why am I tied to a wooden beam?

Then a terrible thought crossed my mind, they going to burn me! I pulled at the ties, trying to loosen them, but they were tight and started to cut into my skin.

The crowd started chanting, "BURN HER! BURN HER!"

"NO! PLEASE! NO!" I begged, tugging harder at my ropes. I could feel the warm blood trailing down my hands from where the rope was cutting into me. "PLEASE! I BEG OF YOU!" Hot tears began to fall on my face. But I almost never cry. These are not entirely my emotions. I was more confused, than angry, but the woman I am seeing through wasn't. She was terrified and certain of her fate.

I shook my head, a strand of my dark auburn hair fell over my eyes. But it wasn't my hair. Similar colour, but slightly darker and longer.

A man in a dark hooded cape, hiding his face, started to walk over to me. I caught a glimpse of his impossibly bright blues eyes. He was looking at me but I still couldn't see his face. Just his eyes. But there was something wrong with his eyes, something unnatural. "Madeline Jacobs, you will burn for you sins, witch!" he shouted. Jacobs? That's my last name. The man flicked his wrist. Two men carrying torches, absently made their way over, at his command, to the platform beneath my feet.

I could feel the heat from the torches as they held them to the brushes. The fire began, spreading to the bundles of sticks and other brushes. I struggled more, pulling harder as a last effort to break free. My eyes began to burn from the smoke and the heat. It was so hot, I could barely breathe. I screamed one long, high pitched scream.

I could feel my feet burning as the flames started to lick at me. It hurts, oh my god it hurts! Pain washed over me in waves. I looked down to find the flames had started up the skirt of my dress. I pulled harder at the ties that wouldn't give, I kept pulling and pulling but I couldn't get away. Oh fuck! Am I going to burn alive?

I could feel my skin start to blister as the flames engulfed my dress entirely. I closed my eyes and screamed. I screamed so long and hard, fighting to not feel the excruciating pain of my flesh melting and burning. I could no longer bare the pain.

We kept screaming, Madeline and I. Through the flames I saw the hooded man with the strange blue eyes, lowering his hood.

Suddenly I found myself staring into Cain's serious pale eyes as he held me by the arms with his face so close to me that I couldn't quite focus my sight on him.

I blinked, looking around the room with black walls. I quickly checked my arms and legs for burns. None. "But it felt so real," I whispered. I could still smell smoke and the smell of my burning flesh. I could taste it on the back of my tongue.

Cain let go of me and touched my chin, "What felt so real?" he asked. I took a deep breath. I just couldn't shake the image of the man in the hood. I wasn't able to see his face before I woke from the dream, but I could still see his eyes as if they were burned in the back of my mind.

"The fire, they were burning me," I said, looking at him. "It was me but it wasn't me. Like it was someone else's memory."

"You tapped into you ancestor," said Evelyn, who was standing by the window, hugging her arms.

"My ancestor? What ancestor?" I asked.

"Your ancestor, Madeline Jacobs, The Last Witch," she said, putting emphasis on the last bit, like it held some importance.

"The last witch? But witches aren't real, are they?" I asked, looking into Evelyn's big brown, no longer amber, eyes. Cain turned me around to face him. His face suddenly serious, but the look in his eyes showed something else that I couldn't quite figure out. Was it awe? I studied his face. "What?" I asked. The look was a little bit disconcerting.

"You are a witch Savannah. The first witch in centuries,"