"I would know it in any world, any life, any form, anywhere in time and space. I would die for these lavender eyes to glitter with warmth - anytime, anywhere."
His words constrict around my heart like golden barbs. The beauty of them excruciating.
...
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Blind rage isn't something I have felt many times in my life so far. I used to think that it simply isn't a part of my character. Maybe it truly isn't.
And maybe what I feel now is months worth of silence and torment finally boiling over. I don't know what I seek, but I know that this is ending tonight. That I don't care what collateral damage occurs on our way to end these magic-wielding, heartless extremists.
Somewhere at the back of my mind alarm bells resound as soon as Ashton whistles that brief, singular, sombre note, but the rest of my mind overrides it with careless cruelty.
Words bubble in my mind - questions rage and accusations burn - and yet my mouth refuses to form them. The sheer terror that binds my words, my voice doesn't let go. I don't know how to make it. My own voice makes all those terrors return, threatens to make my own skin crawl with the memory of-
Ashton tilts his head to a side as he listens to whatever Elliot has to say over the earpiece, and then his lips lift in an almost surreal smile.
"Now, would you believe that?", the witch thrashes in my grip, her voice still lost to the sheer lack of air as he slowly whispers, as if addressing either an infant or a daft person, "A bunch of people are all set and poised to slaughter the remnants of your coven with one word from me. Now, I will give you the illusion of a choice again - lift the spell or scream."
I loosen my hold on her neck as soon as she starts wilting, and immediately she is wheezing and gasping for a breath.
"Mur-", she has somehow wheezed a single syllable out of her when a rush of chanting inside grows loud - like a high crescendo of a flourish of voices. I cannot tell what exactly they're saying, even as I hear the muffled version of the combination of many sharp whispers.
It's the witch's turn to smile, and it's a wretched, ugly thing. Ashton's face remains neutral, that cold, calculative smile static.
"Is that a linking spell I hear?", is all he says, and that wild, cold smile of his grows.
"Yes.", the witch hisses, and I cannot help but laugh. Her head snaps backwards towards me, the unexpected crack in my silence spooking her for a moment.
"Has the prospect of an agonising death by fire driven you mad, lass?", she bites out amidst still-uneven breaths.
I cannot tell her that the idea of death is still rather welcoming to me, despite the fact that it doesn't really stay at the forefront of my mind anymore. I cannot tell her that irrespective of whatever my personal opinions of death are, if death plans on taking me anytime soon, it will have to drag me away from here kicking and screaming and I'm still not going anywhere.
The past few weeks have given me too much hope for me to give it all up. Now, I have plans for a life, again. I have dreams and hopes of a day when the ghost of those touches and voices no longer haunt me. When I have a voice again.
