Spellbinders: Daughter of Light

The Truth

"Goodbye, Ella," Arran taunts. He gives me a quick peck on the cheek before walking away. I don't look at him. I can't look at him. Ever since I found out that every single word he told me was a lie, I've felt a strange feeling deep within me. It made me hot and itchy. I felt the need to scratch impulsively, but when I did, there was no where to scratch. I felt like yelling and screaming at him. I felt the need to hurt him, just like he hurt me.

At first, I didn't know how to restrain myself. Not looking at him seems to work though. If I don't look at him, the fire doesn't seem as fierce. It doesn't burn as much when I can't see him. I haven't told Callum about the fire yet. I don't think it's important enough, even if I don't know what it is.

As soon as the door clicks shut, I look up. Sometimes this room deludes me, with it's constant darkness. Sometimes I imagine myself falling into the darkness and being swallowed up by it, never to return. I wonder what that would be like? Turning my head, I see him, his poor body leaning against the wall. The chains that keep him there are still firmly attached to his ankle.

I don't like it when I see him this way, with his head bowed and his arms hanging limply by his side. Something within me dies when I see this defeated figure instead of the determined, upbeat boy I knew only a few weeks ago. He came to save me.

He should've saved himself.

I quietly walk out of bed and approach his sleeping form. I move his hair out of the way and caress his cheek with the back of my hand. How could someone who looks so similar to Arran be so different?

Jumping slightly, Callum awakens with a start. When he sees me, he relaxes.

"Good morning Ella. Are you ok?" He asks. A thrill goes down my spine when he says my name. My real name. Up until a few weeks ago, I apparently didn't have a name, according to Arran. I also apparently didn't have a life. He told me that I'd fought on his side, but that I'd been injured and I needed to rest. He told me that he loved me, he also told me that the boy I loved hurt me. Everything was a lie. Absolutely everything.

Callum was the one who came to save me. He told me the truth. My name is Ella, I fought for the Resistance, I'm currently 16 years old, and I was in love with Callum, before Arran took me away. That's not the only thing he took. He stole my memories, and, in a way, he stole my old life from me. Apparently I was brave and strong. Apparently I could fight armies on my own. Apparently I was Callum's Protector, and I was protecting him from Arran, but no one knew that. No one knew who he was or what he was planning. Everyone thought he was dead.

"I'm ok," I whisper. Callum nods, but he still picks me up and pulls me into his warm chest. I snuggle closer to him, enjoying his warmth. I feel drawn to him. I feel happy around him. I've always felt this way around him, even when I didn't know who he was. Why does he make me feel this way?

"That's good. I can't say the same for me though," he mumbles. Perhaps he thinks I didn't hear him, or that I don't care, but I do. Arran keeps him chained to the wall so that he can watch me, the girl he loves, be held and kissed by someone else. It was like dangling a carrot over a donkey, making it move towards the carrot, taunting it, because you know that it will never succeed. It'll never get what it wants. And I'm what Callum wants. So close, but so far. It was the worst form of torture. And, for some strange, sick reason, Arran enjoys it. He openly teases poor Callum, who can't say or do anything, thanks to the chains, which are enchanted. If Callum moves or speaks in Arran's presence without his permission, he receives an unpleasant jolt of pain. The only time we have to ourselves is when Arran leaves to do whatever it is he does. I never bothered to find out what that was, though I have some idea, and it's not very pretty. Occasionally, he needs me to torture people, with my so called 'gift'. Sometimes I wish I could just torture him. Maybe then I wouldn't hate myself so much. It's something that I haven't even told Callum about. The screams of my poor victims haunt me during the night. I rarely sleep, and when I do, I wish I didn't. The nightmares are a lot worse than the memories. Memories are just recollections, but in nightmares, anything's possible.

***

The world is dark. It sounds simple and vague, but that's the only way to put it. There is no light, there is no life. Death and disaster are the rulers. I see a wasteland of fog and the sorry skeletons that were once strong, tall houses. They were destroyed long ago, and are now only an echo of what once was. I stand on a platform of crystal. Once it was flawless, but now it's cracked and shattered, with piles of ash forming on the surface.

"It's all ours now. No one can change that," a horribly familiar voice says behind me. I turn around slowly, expectantly. Against my own will, I smile. Arran sits on a crystal throne, a look of fulfillment on his face.

"That's because there's no one left," I explain. I can feel the corners of my mouth still turned up in a satisfied smirk. A feeling of unease settles in my stomach. It's a stone in a river bed. It anchors me in the here and now, while the waters of the future and what will come rush over the top. Who is this person? She can't possibly be me.

"True. And now you've earned your birthright, Your Majesty," Arran whispers into my neck. Cold shivers of fear run through me, but my body does nothing to move away from him. Instead something heavy is placed on my head. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the fractured crystal beneath me. It's a crown. A crown soaked in blood.

***

I wake with a start, my heart racing and my thoughts flying. Strong hands wrap around my waist. I hear him, his voice. It's muffled, but I still know what he's saying.

"Breathe, Ella. Just breathe. It'll be ok," Callum whispers in my ear. I feel myself relax, but only a little. I fell asleep. I must have been more tired than I'd originally thought, and that horrible dream keeps coming back, again and again. It scares me. The crown with the blood, the death and destruction, Arran, all of it. The thought of it makes me sick to my stomach.

"Thank you," I mutter as I move away from him. I need to use the bathroom. I need a cold shower, but as soon as I move, it's not the shower I'm thinking of, it's the toilet. As I hurry into the bathroom, I throw up whatever measly remains have been lying in my stomach. As it turns out, not an awful lot. I taste bile, and I know I should eat, but I don't feel safe. I'm constantly afraid. I fear for Callum, for myself, and for the next time I sleep. It's strange how something like fear can rule your life, especially for someone like me.

Once I was a warrior, a sorceress, a protector, or rather, my body was. My mind was wiped clean. It has no recollection of this girl, whoever she was. I don't feel strong, or mighty. I can't even feel the magic that flows through my veins. It's torturous because I know it's there, but when I look, I don't find anything. I can't imagine what it would be like for Callum, seeing me day after day, remembering the girl I used to be, but seeing something else. If I am tortured, he is suffering.

"Ella?" He asks. He sounds alarmed, and I guess that's the fastest I've ever moved. I hear the clanking of his chain as he follows me. Soon enough, his gentle hands are on my back.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks. I shake my head, leaning myself up against the tiled wall. The cool stone makes me feel a little better. It seems to suck the heat out of me, making me cold. Oh, how I wish it could. I wish I could be a stone wall as well. Wall's don't have feelings or nightmares, only the rocks by which they were made.

I see Callum inspecting the contents of the toilet. He turns to me, smiling sadly.

"Ella, you need to eat," he says gently, sitting down next to me. He puts his arms around my shoulders and hugs me. I start crying. Tears of frustration and sadness trickle down my cheeks. I wish I wasn't so scared. I wish that I could be brave once again.

"I want too. I want to eat more, and I wish I could sleep, but I can't. I'm so afraid, all the time. Why can't I just put up with it? Why can't I be brave like you?" I ask, sobbing openly. Callum stares at me, looking perplexed.

"You know, you were the one who taught me how to be strong. You still are-"

"Please. Please don't compare me to her. We're not the same," I beg. Callum's face falls. He says nothing, but instead, continues to hold me close as I cry.