Cooked
“They can’t make me do this!” I yelled, pausing briefly in my agitated pacing to glance nervously at my Aunt Rose. “There has to be something else, some other way to make amends. Did Gareth talk to the council yet?”
The look of pity that swept across my only living relative’s face told me I was grasping at straws long before her lips parted on a defeated sigh. “I’m sorry, Meri. The coven’s hands are tied. Someone has to pay the price for your misdeeds, accidental or not. The high priests asked for your head. Had you been one year older, I believe they would have granted that request. You should be relieved this is the only punishment handed down.”
Aunt Rose was the most beautiful witch in our coven, both inside and out. Her voice was infinitely gentle and I could feel the waves of calm she tried to push through me. Not for the first time, I wondered how the hell I was even related to her.
She was goodness and light, beauty and talent, forgiveness and compassion. I was none of those things and as such, I had to tamp down the jealousy that swept through me as she continued to try to effortlessly manipulate my emotions.
My magic would not come to me, not as easily as it seemed to come for everyone else. All of my brothers and sisters in the coven barely had to reach for the power lying within to have it spring to their fingertips, ready to be shaped and molded into whatever useful spell they desired.
I had to wrestle with mine, to beg and pull until I felt like I was ripping my own soul from my body to even preform the most basic of spells. I was useless and everyone knew it.
Including me.
The one time in my life that my magic had sprung to my defense had resulted in an epic fuck up of disastrous proportions. Aunt Rose was right, I probably should lose my head. I had destroyed eons of spells and history. All gone, burned to ash along with the high priest initiate who had decided as such a useless female, I should at least be good for one thing... whether I wanted him or not.
Neither I, nor my magic agreed. Instead of fighting off the male’s attention though, I had detonated an entire archive of history. Things that could not be replaced, parts of our collective history that were now lost for all time.
“Please, Meri! Don’t fight the council on this. You are the only thing I have left and I love you dearly. You are so much like your father. He would be so proud of you!”
It was something she said often, but also something I didn’t for one second believe to be true. My father was one of the most powerful battle mages ever to walk the Borderlands. His sister, Aunt Rose, was also amazing in her own right.
And then there was me.
Destroyer of History.
Killer of Knowledge.
Meridith the Useless.
Her words did have their intended effect, though. Guilt wormed its way through me, making me stop my pacing and focus fully on Aunt Rose.
“I’m sorry, I know I should be grateful I still draw breath. I promise to keep my head down, do my time, and come home to you.” I said, finally gaining the courage to look straight into her aquamarine eyes.
Aunt Rose smiled as she drew me into her tall, statuesque frame, again making me question my genetics. I barely reached her shoulder. I took a deep breath, letting her familiar lavender scent surround me.
“Its going to be fine, my love. The odds are in your favor. You were born to do great things. This is fate giving you a little push in the right direction.” She laughed as she pulled me tight for a hug.
Right. Fate.
The same fate that made me defective and turned me into an IED in my spare time.
Aunt Rose rubbed my back briskly before grasping my shoulders and giving me a slight shake. “Now, they will come for you at dawn. Let's get you packed and ready for your new adventure.
I wished I could feel even an ounce of the excitement that I could feel pouring out of Aunt Rose. Instead, I felt only dread. Darkmoor Reformatory was not for the faint of heart. Many of the poor souls sent there never came back. I didn’t belong in a place like that. How long could I really survive surrounded by the worst the Borderlands had to offer?
I could barely boil water and I was about to be thrown in with some of the most powerful dark magical creatures that walked this side of The Blight, and some that had been trapped on this side when the veil fell. Tears gathered in my eyes and panic sent my heart soaring as it tried it’s best to escape my chest.
I was so dead.
Darkmoor paraded itself as a reformatory academy, trying to distance itself from its prison origins, but everyone knew exactly what Darkmoor was and what happened behind its massive iron gates. It was a last chance facility for young magical beings that had made poor choices early in life. Or in my case, fucked up so badly they needed to be put to death.
Aunt Rose was laughing and talking animatedly as she swept around my room, using her magic to pull things from their places before folding themselves neatly into a bag of holding. I tried to listen, to respond when needed, but I couldn’t think of anything else.
This was a death sentence, just with more steps.
Darmoor Reformatory would be the death of me.
