Chapter 13
R unning through an endless darkness, I’m unsure of whether I’m awake, asleep or dead, and whether what I had seen before at the academy was all an illusion.
Or is this an illusion?
I hear noises around me; muffled voices getting closer, sounds of voices shouting and yelling, but I can’t make out the words.
I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m running for, just that I shouldn't stop. I needed to keep moving forward.
Something grabs onto my left arm and tries to pull me back, it feels tight and heavy against my skin. I pull at it, trying to release my hand but then it latches onto my right arm, stopping me from feeling what it is or from pulling it off of me.
Then, as if the ground itself wants to hold me in place, my legs become encased in whatever is below me, stopping me from moving even a step further.
Something begins to slither up my legs and back, coating me in something thick and heavy, as it makes its way toward my neck.
The voices around me become louder, still muffled and hard to make out, but as if calling to me.
Images begin to flash in around me, blurred and faded, but I can make out people fighting.
I hear the sounds of metal clashing together, of people running and shouting to one another as they move.
The area is still dark, the people faded and blurry as if I were watching an old movie but up close.
They move around me and past me, and through me.
So this wasn’t real.
It was an illusion or dream, or memory of sorts.
Memory?
No, I don't remember anything like this.
This was a battle, a fight of some sort.
The image shifts; more fighting and muffled voices, but this time I make out a couple of clearer shapes.
A black metal sword and spear are held by two people as they fight off a larger group.
Every inch of the weapons are pure black, from top to bottom.
They move as if they're an extension of the person holding them, and cut everything and everyone that comes close to them down with ease. And as if in some sort of trance, I can’t take my eyes from them.
My hands try to move with the sight of them, the feeling of wanting to hold the dark metal in my palms taking over my thoughts completely.
The image shifts again; just one person in the distance.
They're running from something or someone this time, while holding a similar weapon in their hands.
I’m wondering when all this will end when suddenly our eyes meet.
Dark blue eyes gaze back at me from the distance, the tall dark figure cloaked in the darkness as he watches on.
I flinch as it narrows its eyes at me, raising its blurry arm to throw its weapon toward me.
Even if this is a dream or illusion, I didn’t want to take any chances.
I try to move, to thrash against whatever heavy rock or weight holds me in place. I struggle and fight against the heavy restraints, pulling until I feel my arms and legs begin to move a little.
I promised myself I would never be caged again and even in my dreams I wouldn’t allow it.
I push myself forward with every ounce of strength in me, just as the blade crashes into me.
It hits me right in the chest, the black blade embedding itself in my skin.
I wait for the pain to strike, and when I feel none, I remember that this is an illusion.
Is that why I felt nothing?
The blade seeps deeper into me, burying itself in my chest and slowly disappearing into my body.
You would think something like that would send me into a panic, even in a dream, but instead I feel calm, a faint feeling of warmth spreading throughout me as it seeps deeper into my body.
Suddenly the weight and heaviness holding my limbs fade.
My body now free from whatever was holding me in place.
The darkness around me begins to shake and tremble, the ground beneath me quaking with the shift.
Cracks begin to form in the dark, a blinding light pouring through its gaps as the area around me quickly disappears.
* * *
I pull my hand over my eyes as the light shines through my window and forces me to wake. The images from the dream, playing out in my mind as I lay in bed listening to the birds and rustling of leaves in the distance.
There were so many questions running through my mind.
What kind of dream was that? What were those black blades that seemed to place me in a trance? Why did my fingertips and palms tingle just thinking about them? And who did those blue glaring eyes belong to?
So many questions spin around my head, and for a dream that could simply be just that; a weird dream and figment of my imagination or deeper consciousness.
I shake my head, a sigh falling from my lips as I stretch out my limbs.
My body felt more rested and energised. And after last night's fight I thought it would be the opposite.
I look down to where my wound once lay, only torn and muddy clothes covering my now fully healed skin.
If not for the mess my clothes and hair are in right now and the dried blood on my side, I’d have thought last night was also a dream.
I drag myself from my warm and cosy bed, pulling the now stained blanket from the bed and throwing it on the floor.
I’d have to wash that soon, but first, a hot shower.
Peeling off my dirty and ripped clothes and discarding them to the bathroom floor, I make my way into the shower.
I turn the temperature up to its highest, which unfortunately wasn’t as hot as I’d like with its old plumbing, and allow the water to cleanse me of the remnants of last night's fight.
I let the water trickle down my face, the warmth like a soothing balm to my constantly racing thoughts.
I go to turn the tap off and end my relaxing shower, before remembering it was Saturday, which meant no classes and no need to rush.
Leaving it on, I enjoy a few more minutes of peace and take my time scrubbing before I turn it off and dry myself. I brush my fingers over the tattoo-like mark on my right hip and then my left, before I quickly freeze, looking toward my feet.
There, on my ankles sit a small curved black line, with a small crescent shape sitting above them.
Bending down, I trace each one with my finger.
The colour is the same as the ones on my hips, but the mark is only half the size.
I look back and forth between my right and left ankles, both wearing the same black tattoo-like marks.
What did they mean? Why were they showing up now? Were there going to be more in the future?
I didn’t have them in my previous life, so maybe they really were a small piece of the puzzle of why or how I was here now.
I brush my fingers slowly over each mark on my ankles and then my hips. I didn’t feel worried or anxious when I looked at them. I felt…some sort of familiarity to them, some genuine connection, like they were always meant to be there.
When the words fill my mind, a feeling of rightness fills me. As if there was always a blank part of me waiting for them.
I touch the black marks more fondly before noticing a small patch of dried blood on my neck in the bathroom mirror. I must have missed it while enjoying my shower.
Turning the hot water tap on, the old tap splutters to life before soon turning into a small trickle with barely any lukewarm water falling from its faucet.
I roll my eyes. These old ‘features’ were getting on my nerves.
I didn’t need any pampering or luxury items, but a proper flow of water would be nice.
I go to turn the old tap off after cleaning the bit of blood away, when suddenly the metal head snaps off in my hand, the water now spraying from the broken faucet and onto the bathroom floor.
Thankfully it wasn’t a colossal amount with the old plumbing.
Still clutching the taps metal head, I shove it onto the broken faucet, trying to somehow stop the flow of water.
Giving it a hard push, I watch as the top melds into the broken metal below it and forces the flowing water into a smaller trickle. It seeps into the sink, the flow now only a minor dribble and more manageable to clean up.
My gaze flickers between my hand and the newly shaped tap.
I knew my strength had improved, but being able to bend metal so easily wasn’t possible. Or was it that the taps were just really that old, or maybe cheaper?
I glance back at the twisted metal, still dripping a small stream of water into the sink.
Even if it was old or cheap, it never felt that weak before.
Shaking my head, I walk toward the wardrobe, throwing on a pair of navy sweats and a white t-shirt.
My strength couldn’t have just sky-rocketed over night, right?
I turn toward my window, gazing at the forest in the distance.
I guess there was one way to test it out.
Getting myself ready, I throw on a matching navy hoody and quickly make my way into the forest.
I make my way toward my small clearing, the forest taking on a different atmosphere during the day.
The trees and grass take on beautiful rich green tones, nature at its finest as the sun shines above, with small birds fluttering in and out through the trees chasing one another.
Closing my eyes, I listen to the peaceful sounds surrounding me as I take a slow breath in.
There was a small trickle of water running in the distance, the sound of small animals scurrying about the forest and if I focused hard enough, I could hear the sound of a few sparse voices in the distance in the academy.
Opening my eyes, I head to a large sturdy tree on the opposite side of the clearing. One I had used before when testing the strength of my punches, and that had left me with more cuts and bruises than I had given it.
Let's see if anything has changed.
Tightening my fist, I pull my shoulder back and position myself in front of the thick tree. I push forward in one quick jab, throwing as much strength as I can into the hit. Splinters fly in the air from the bark as my fist makes contact with the tree.
I pull my fist back out with a few splinters and cuts in my skin, but my healing is already closing up the wounds and working quicker than ever before.
My eyes flicker back and forth between my hand and the tree, a huge hole and fist print now embedded all the way to its centre.
A shaky breath leaves my lips.
How was this possible?
It had felt as if the bark was a sheet of cardboard rather than a half a metre thick tree trunk.
I take a step back, my eyes widening at the damage my one punch has caused. I look back down toward my hand, all of the cuts and scrapes now completely healed as a small disbelieving chuckle leaves my lips, my eyes flickering back and forth between the tree and my fist.
It seemed my healing had also jumped up a few notches. Before it would have taken at least an hour for those small abrasions to heal whereas now they were gone in less than a minute.
Was this because of last night? Did the fight with the beast push me past what I needed to reach a new level?
But to be this strong after one night…?
I shake my head, my eyes falling to my feet.
Or was this something else?
Was it related to the new little marks sitting on my ankles? Or something to do with why I felt so refreshed this morning after that weird dream?
There were just too many unanswered questions. I didn’t even know how or why I was brought back here and to ten years in the past. Why now?
I’m grateful and all, second chances or miracles like this don't happen, ever. But why me?
Is this just another thing I should be thankful for and not question?
A vivid image of glaring blue eyes comes to mind as my own eyes narrow toward the tree. Black blades and strange images. Black markings appearing on me that I never had in my previous life. And now strength and healing that surpasses anything I could have imagined at such a young age.
Maybe I need to start looking into things. I needed to try to find out more about myself and what this strength was. I always thought I was a witch with no power, but now I think I was never one to begin with.
Witches and warlocks didn’t have physical strength like this, and I certainly wasn’t a shifter.
I’m pretty sure I’d remember turning into an animal.
Maybe I don’t take after my parents…but then what was I, and where did this power come from?
I look toward the sky, large grey clouds floating around the sun and dimming its light as I sigh.
I’d have to tackle one thing at a time.
Time.
It was something I now had a lot of, my only ally here. And with it, I would collect every puzzle piece and place everything together until the picture was whole again.
I’ll deal with whatever will come, one day at a time.
Right now, I should train.
I’ll work out until I’m dripping with sweat and feel every inch of me burn and ache. And all the questions twisting around in my head can be pushed to the back, and no longer a worry for today.
I head off into a run, the Autumn wind whipping past me as my surroundings quickly begin to blur with my pace.
A small smile stretches my lips. I guess I had gotten faster too.