Growing up, I was taught to love and be tolerant of any and all beings. When someone was in trouble, you took the time to help them. But that tolerance became hypocritical when dealing with witches. The children of our village were told not to associate with them. There was always an eerie danger surrounding the concept of witches and their dark magic. But, if I had learned anything since my childhood, it was that magic was not inherently bad.
So, as Lucinda expressed her deep-seated hatred for those who had wronged her, and creatures like her. My previous entrapment allowed me to sympathize and prepare to defend every creature like her. But when she told me she was a witch, I only hesitated a moment. Because in the time I had lived, I had seen magic used in every form of good and evil. And because of the risk she displayed saving me, I automatically accepted her as a good witch. An evil person did not put themselves in harms way for a stranger.
Out with childhood warnings and in with life learnings.
We stormed through the town seeking justice.
When we arrived at Professor Harkof's rental, we bombarded the place. My fiery rage had only grown in strength as Lucinda topped my justice-filled sundae with her heart wrenching cherries on the run to the mansion.
Lucinda had cheered me on when I manipulated the stoney walls guarding the mansion to crumble into dust. She laughed with joy when I used a forceful gust of wind to blast down the doors. She had cooed with envy when I yanked water from the indoor pool to form ice daggers and shredded through the security guards. She had stared in adoration as my fingers sprouted fiery tendrils to lure Jarvina from her locked room.
And now? My witchy accomplice was whispering in my ear.
The witch had used her own magic to bind the evil woman. So, as Lucinda loudly whispered creative ways to kill the woman, Jarvina sat pleading for her life.
I finally squatted to be level to the Professor's face and glowered at her. "Why?" I demanded.
She continued to plead. Lucinda's foot crunched into the woman's face. "She asked you a question, you pathetic piece of garbage."
Surprised, I raised my hand to Lucinda to quiet her. She crossed her arms and smacked her lips as I pulled the bloodied woman back up.
The woman whimpered as blood continued to stream down her chin. As I drew her upwards, I saw her eyes focus on the stone in my necklace and she snarled, "Why not?"
My chest heaved and I rose in anger. I felt it consume me and suddenly I released the anger into a rage of power, directed straight at the woman who had tormented me for so long. Under the elemental fury I bombarded her with, I sank to my knees.
It was Lucinda who finally led me out of the house and to her home where I crumpled into a tired heap on her spare bed.
YOU ARE READING
Karasi of Pelnora
FantasyThere are legends that seek to be appreciated and celebrated across the universe. Whether for good or evil, they seek to be enamored by all, and worshipped as Gods. For this reason, a legend born to infiltrate the world, without recognition, is rare...
