The Chronicles of Emilia

Chapter 6: Unrequited Love

I slowly regained consciousness, my back pressing against a cold, hard surface. My head ached as I tried to recall what led me to this dimly lit, unfamiliar place. My wrists were bound tightly to a wooden chair, and any attempt to move was futile.

A silhouette emerged from the shadows, revealing Loria in the distinct uniform of Arcana Academy. "Loria? Why are you wearing the academy's uniform?" Panic tinged my voice.

Loria paused, looking down at her attire as if seeing it for the first time. "A walk down memory lane, perhaps? Loria Lockhart, from Arcana Academy. Does this uniform spark any memories, Emilia?"

I closed my eyes, trying desperately to summon any recollection of her from my time at Arcana Academy. Memories of the scent of old books, rigorous training sessions, laughter with friends, and the ever-present magical aura of the hallways surged back. Familiar faces flashed before me, accompanied by echoing voices from the past. Yet, no matter how hard I searched, Loria's face eluded me.

I met her gaze again, a mixture of confusion and dread churning inside me. "I'm trying, Loria, but I can't place you from the academy. Were we... classmates?"

Loria sighed deeply, her fingers tracing patterns on the table, as if lost in memories. The candlelight caught the edges of her face, revealing a slight sadness in her eyes.

"You were the star – always in the spotlight. And there I was, in the shadows, hoping you'd one day notice."

A chill settled in my chest, unease prickling at the edges of my consciousness as I tried to piece things together. "Loria, I still don't understand what this has to do with—"

She cut me off, her voice suddenly sharper, "Don't you remember? The way you'd hum when stressed, or that little dance when something excited you. I noticed all those moments, even when no one else did." Her face twitched momentarily, hinting at an inner turmoil, her eyes flashing with a restrained intensity.

"You were surrounded by admirers, always in the spotlight. But in the shadows, one person loved you with every ounce of her being. That was me." She added with a forced smile, her voice slightly erratic, "You never did see me, did you?"

Her fingers, cold yet soft, traced my cheekbone, moving to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, her touch lingering a bit longer than necessary. I sat there, frozen, taken aback by the sudden shift in her demeanor.

"I confessed to you," Loria continued, her voice breaking ever so slightly. "On a rainy evening, beneath the ancient willow tree in the academy grounds. I poured out my feelings, thinking maybe, just maybe, you'd see me differently. But you... you smiled it off, thinking I was playing some kind of joke."

Loria's words weighed heavily on me. My mind wrestled with fragmented memories: the rain's patter, the silhouette of a willow tree, a figure before me. While a recollection did stir, its edges blurred.

A clearer vision emerged – wet grass underfoot, the archaic willow, and Loria's pleading eyes. "I think," I began in a hushed tone, trying to bridge our understanding, "I remember that night. The downpour, the tree..." As shadows of the memory grew sharper, my heart's pace quickened. "Your raw emotions took me by surprise. That smile, it wasn't a dismissal of your feelings."

She stared deeply into my eyes, searching for any hint of deception. "Was it so hard to just say 'no'?"

I took a deep breath, the weight of the moment pressing on my chest. "Your confession came out of nowhere. I was overwhelmed, not only by the intensity of your feelings but also by the realization that I had been so oblivious to someone who cared so deeply about me right under my nose. Responding to you with a simple 'no' would have seemed dismissive, and I didn't want to hurt you. Ironically, in trying to avoid causing pain, I probably hurt you more. And I apologize for that."

Loria's eyes dropped, her long lashes casting flickering shadows on her cheeks as she seemed to weigh my words. I studied her features, trying to discern any semblance of emotion, of forgiveness maybe. But when she looked up again, there was a hint of a smirk playing on her lips, her eyes gleaming with a new, unsettling resolve.

"It doesn't matter anymore, Emilia." Her voice, previously a soft whisper, now held a trace of derision. "Apologies, regrets, the pain... they all seem so inconsequential now. Because, you see, you are here with me, bound and captive."

She stepped closer, brushing my face gently, a stark contrast to her firm tone. "I can now spend every day with you, watching you, being with you," she said, the smirk deepening, twisting her once angelic face into something more sinister. "You can no longer laugh off my feelings, ignore my presence. You will see me every day, feel me with every passing second."

Her words seeped into me, chilling my blood. The revelation of her once-hidden affection was now overshadowed by the newfound reality of my captivity. Gone was the lovesick admirer; before me stood someone warped by obsession, her love twisted into darkness.

I strained against my bonds, a wave of panic washing over me. "Loria, this isn't love. Holding someone captive out of obsession—it's wrong!" My voice was sharp, laced with a mixture of fear and pleading.

But Loria only leaned in closer, her breath brushing against my face, her smirk unwavering. "Oh, but Emilia, you'll learn to see it my way. You'll learn to feel what I feel, to long for me as I have longed for you. We have all the time in the world now."

Desperation surged within me, trying to piece together the madness unfolding. With each word Loria spoke, the walls felt like they were closing in, the shadows elongating and twisting into eerie figures. I needed to find a way out, but how? My hands were bound by antimagic ropes, ensuring that no magical spell or incantation could release me.

"Instinctively, I tried to mutter a simple release spell, but the words died on my lips, smothered by the suppressive aura of the antimagic ropes. It was clear: traditional spellcasting was out of the question. I had to think differently."

During my time at the academy, an instructor had highlighted the subtleties of summoning spells. He stressed that while hand movements served as a foundation, the true essence of summoning lay in a mage's intent. Bypassing the physical gestures was a challenge fraught with risks, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Loria was momentarily entranced, her gaze distant and her face softened, perhaps lost in envisioning our futures entwined. I seized this fleeting opportunity to focus on my broomstick, not through the motion of hands, but through sheer will and intent to draw it close to my face. The incantation's words formed silently in my mind, my lips barely moving. In my heightened state of fear and adrenaline, I visualized the broomstick, its every detail, its every contour.

Within moments, the broom appeared before my face, hovering horizontally. A silent sigh of relief escaped my lips, a fleeting moment of triumph in the midst of chaos. My heart raced, hoping Loria wouldn't notice before I had the chance to act.

Suddenly empowered, I clamped my teeth onto the broomstick. Its inherent magic, combined with my intent, responded instantly. As I shifted my head to angle the broom correctly, its power activated, propelling me backward with a burst of speed, chair and all.

The impact of the fall loosened the antimagic ropes just enough for me to wriggle one hand free. Seizing the element of surprise, I swung myself onto the broomstick. In a heartbeat, I was airborne, putting distance between myself and a visibly fuming Loria.

Floating above, with the broomstick securely beneath me, I spared a last glance at the distraught figure below. Loria's face was a portrait of shock, betrayal, and hurt. But I knew I couldn't linger. The risk was too great. With a swift kick, I sped out of the house, disappearing into the night in the blink of an eye.

The night air sliced against my face as I pushed my speed, but before I could get far, the whoosh of wind reached my ears. A quick glance back revealed Loria, ascending on her broom with a fierce resolve in her eyes. "You think you can just escape from me that easily, Emilia?" she shouted, her voice echoing through the night. My heart raced as I gripped my broom tighter, the realization sinking in: the chase was on.