The Magicks That Flame

Chapter 8- Joy Needed | Coora

Atza....

This was the first time I have ever seen her cry. Her bow meant so much to her, and it broke? I decided to find her. I used one of the potions Hina made a bit back to follow her heat trail.

This process was very simple to use to find people.

I finally found her heat trail going up a tree. I looked up, and she was holding her bow. It was split in half perfectly. That can't be broken because it fell. In fact, it seem ominous that it was so perfectly split. The only thing that could do that was with magicks, or finding the breaking point of something.

Yet no bow had a breaking point that accurate.

"A-A-Atza?" I called. "What happened?"

"GO AWAY!" she cried. "I DON'T NEED YOU!" Her words burned me, but I still spoke up.

"Atza, I know something's up. You're aura is different. Wait..." Her curiousness got to her, and she looked to me.

"What?" she asked.

"It's about you being an Elven Bete Noire,isn't it?" Atza's attention was completely towards me.

"It is," she said blankly. "Why do you want to know?"

"I think I know why you're acting like this. It was the Man of the Dead, wasn't it?" She just nodded.

"Atza, can I come up there?"

"S-s-sure." 

I flew up next to her, and I looked at her bow. The beautiful engravings climbed up the wood, but it was cut off at the center. I reached out for it, but she slapped my hand back. I let out a small scream as my hand turned red.

It was Bete Noire Magicks.

"I-I-I'm... sorry," she said. My eyes widened. Atza wasn't to ever say sorry often. She never even said please. She refused at any cost.

"It's fine," I said while taking a strand of hair from my head. "I have an easy way to getting rid of this." I took a deep breath in and said a chant in my ancient language.

"Chand hei idar. Khoobsurat phool, yeh mujay doe, Eik toori dil ki mafi." After I said that, the strand of hair disintegrated, and the ashes fell over my red hand. The redness was gone, thank Irene.

"What did you say?" Atza asked.

"A light is here. Oh, pretty flower, give me a small heart's forgiveness." 

Atza bit her bottom lips and sighed.

"I had a dream, on the Man of the Dead. I don't think it was a dream, though."

"People who see him in their dreams," I said. "They are no dreams at all. They are some odd reality, in his world. It's a parallel dimension from ours."

"You seem to know a lot on him." 

I shrugged

"You get used to seeing him everyday." 

Atza turned her head to me.

"How many nightmares have you had from him?"

"Every night after my village burned down with my parents. He used to torture me with Magicks and Magicks related attacks. Did he hurt you?" She showed me her leg. It was swollen and red.

"Can you give me a strand of your hair?" I asked.

She pulled a piece of her hair out, and handed it to me. I whispered the chant, once more, but it had to be changed, since it wasn't made by accident.