The day started fine. I was cleaning the dishes and left the house near 11:00, but now I stand on the frozen lake, miles from my home.
I came over to ice skate. The kids in the neighborhood love coming here. It's one of the few times we get to have fun, especially during the winter. The ice was thick and slippery and I was the only one who didn't have skates.
One of the neighborhood kids, a little boy named Tommy, went too far out. I ran out to get him and pushed him further away before I started to hear the dreadful sound of ice cracking. I knew at that moment I was doomed.
The last thing I remember is screaming at Tommy to run before the ice cracked beneath me and I was instantly submerged into the freezing water. I remember the feel of it against my body and the darkness of it that made me instantly close my eyes, after that, it went back.
Then I woke up. I was in my kitchen, standing at the sink doing the same dishes I washed earlier. The same soft tune played in my ears and I no longer felt the chill of the water or my body sinking. I look over at the time on the stove. 10:37.
I stood there in shock and all I could think was, what the hell just happened?
“You need to stop.”
I roll my eyes at her request. I can’t stop. Is she aware of how many people I’ve been able to help. How many families I’ve been able to save from mourning a brother, sister, parent.
“You know I can’t do that.”
My aunt walks towards the clinics table where I’m standing and takes a deep breath. “You’re harming these people.”
“I’m saving them,” I scoff.
Aunt Victoria shakes her head. “Haven’t you noticed all of the people dropping dead. They were healthy one minute then the next their families burying them six feet under.”
“That doesn’t have anything to do with me. I’m trying to stop it.”
“You don’t get it,” she whispers. Her eyes tear up. “You don’t understand where our families magic comes from. Using it, especially to save people who’s fate has already been written out has consequences. You cannot play god.”
“I’m not playing god,” I raise my voice. I walk around the table closer to my aunt and grab her hand gently. “If I can save these people from dying, save their families from the pain, why shouldn’t I?”
“Every life you help escape death he’ll choose another. You’re condemning other people to fates that weren’t originally there’s. Someone has to die. That’s how life works. It’s set in stone. You cannot change it no matter how hard you try.” Aunt Victoria takes a deep breath. “Our magic is dark, sweetheart. You’re mother and me were taught not to use it, our mother was taught the same. It isn’t like other people’s.”
None of this makes sense. I was suppose to be helping people, but here my aunt stands accusing me of killing more instead. Are the deaths that have been happening recently because of me?
My head has begun to throb at the thought.
“Promise me you won’t use it anymore.”
“I promise,” I whisper taking a shaky breath in. My eyes have becomes watery and I feel her place a gently kiss on my forehead. She mutters something to me before walking out but I don’t hear her. All I care about right now is getting to the bottom of this.
I refuse to stand by and watch more people die.
"You're fine, Ms.Kennith," the doctor repeated, repeating the same mantra as the ones before him. "Have you tried the new anxiety meds your last physician prescribed you?"
"No," I replied dully. They always had an answer for my symptoms. Anxiety, depression, hormones, stress, "being a woman". How many times do I have to be rushed to the ER for them to take me seriously? "They won't work."
"Well, you can't know that till you try," He replied enthusiastically, making me angrier.
"I have tried. In fact, I've tried over thirty different prescriptions from multiple different clinics. You'd think one would have worked by now if the problem was what you said it was."
"My Apologies, Ms.Kennith," He smiled tightly and stood up straighter. "How about you try these, then return if you don't respond to them."
I nod my head silently. It's becoming pointless to argue back now. No one listens. I'm pretty sure most doctors I've seen think I'm a hypochondriac. I've had a few tell me, to my face, they thought I was an attention seeker. It's crazy that they've all been through years and years of med school yet can't tell that the person in front of them is actively dying.
Docter Smith returns to the room with my information to check out and a new prescription. One that I will not be picking up. After checking out I head home. Going about my everyday life.
Which includes lying around for the most part. I have no energy to do anything else. I've lost the will to continue my hobbies, watch TV, or leave the house. I just sleep all day.
The only human interaction I get now is from my elderly neighbor. She's the only one who believes that I'm sick. She was a nurse for forty years before the profession took such a toll on her body that she had to retire. She'll bring food over every day and we'll eat dinner together.
I grab the thick, fluffy blanket and head over to my couch. Falling down on top of the memory foam cushions I swing the warm blanket over my body and close my eyes.
I'm so tired of everything. Tired of the doctors not believing me. Tired of my family telling me to go to therapy because the sickness was just "in my head".
My head throbs for a couple of seconds and I can feel my heart start to race, but I don't think anything of it. I can't do anything about it anyway, so I go to sleep.
I didn't know that I wouldn't wake up. I didn't know that Mrs.Henry would find my unconscious body on the couch. Covered by the white fluffy blanket.
I didn't know that I would be rushed to the ER, but this time doctors would believe me. I also don't know if it's too late for that.
Their leaves rustle in the wind and scrape against each other. My eyes follow the tops of them as they sway towards one another and groan under the pressure. I wish I could understand them. Understand all they have heard and seen. The golden rings in them are a testimony that they've been here for centuries. They've witnessed the rise and fall of the humans under them, and I wish they would speak to me as they spoke to each other. Just for one night.
They tore our homes apart, causing us to flee to the sanctuary across the sea.
When my country turned on its people, I never expected it to be because they elevated the wrong leader—a leader who promised peace but instead brought hardships. As we live each day in fear, we now must be conscious of where we go and who we speak to. One wrong person could turn us in. Sending up straight into the hands of death like lambs to the slaughter.
The kingdom of Thays sat in ruins.
Twenty years ago it was beautiful. I still remember the stories my parents told me as a child. A kingdom that welcomed all of the magical creatures. There would be various kinds of flowers blooming along the stone paths that the townspeople once walked. The sun was bright and cast a glow on the Golden castle that sat on top of the hill overlooking the town. In it was the royal family named Thay. The king and queen were gentle rulers that everyone loved. They listened to the people of the Kingdom and heard all of their cries, creating a sanctuary for the magical beings that the other rulers hunted down.
That was my parent's legacy. I stand here now, as Princess Amiria Thay, the daughter of King Dorian and Queen Maria Thay. I can't help but feel I've disrespected them. My kingdom was invaded and burned down. The place that once oozed quietude was now full of ruins and singed houses. The castle was long abandoned. My parents' grave alongside it.
I stood on the dark stone balcony that gave a gorgeous view of the Kingdom Alther and I appreciated it, but not enough to forget the tragedy it caused my people.
I was betrothed to the firstborn son of King Berdread long ago. I hated him at first. I found Prince Kingston to be very egotistical, lacking knowledge of his Kingdom's dark past, but over the past year, he has proved to be more than that. To be more than his father is.
"The Kingdom offers a beautiful sight," I hear him say before I feel him walk up from behind me and wrap an arm around my waist, pulling me back onto his chest. "It will never be as beautiful as my future queen though."
"You always aim to flatter me, don't you?"
"Should I not," He asked and raised a brow, peeking down at me.
"No," I laugh gently pushing back into him. "Keep doing it. I love it when you compliment me."
"I know you do."
His other arm wraps around my chest and his hand rubs my shoulder. The warm breath from his mouth felt gentle on my neck when he leaned down and kissed it. I never imagined being here. I couldn't see a future with him in the beginning, but he wrapped his hands around my heart and warmed it, causing it to soften for him. Our Kingdoms still war with each other, or at least what's left of mine. The townspeople who had escaped in the initial war are still fighting. While I do my part and try to create peace between us.
His father still rules with an iron hand, but he won't for much longer. Not if we have anything to do with it, because now I have the Prince of Alther on my side fighting with me.
As I stand here in the cold, dark, empty room, a small golden antique sits on the wall. The mirror is the only object left in the rotted house.
I walk closer until I'm at eye level with it. Gazing into my own green eyes. The same one my mother carried, and her mother carried as I stare into the endless depth of them, the sins of the generations before haunt me. The twisted lies and frauds. The kind of things no one could ever apologize enough for. I wasn't the one that committed them. Yet, I carry the burden all the same.
The same pretty green eyes that now droop from the pain of the world. The dark eye bags below are a testament to my hardships.
I bring my arm up to my stomach where the small bump is starting to show. My child won't carry the weight of their family name. It ends with me.
My shoes make a quiet sound every time they hit the old, cracked concrete path I walk on. I twist my lips in annoyance as the overgrown grass hits my ankles now and then causing them to itch. The ghost-gray mist blankets the ground creating a haziness over the dead grass and weeds.
The sky above me is dim and gloomy as clouds consume the sun's rays. I tighten the red zip-up jacket around me as I continue to walk. Trees surround the open field along with old houses. One is my childhood home.
I didn't have the guts to go back in. At least, not when my parent's memorial is happening. The family had decided to have it in the place they were happiest in. Which is funny, because they made that house my nightmare. The constant screaming and slamming of doors. The holes that sat in the walls that were so old the wallpaper had started to peel off. The broken doors that were kicked in and never got fixed.
I shiver as a slow breeze blows. The tops of trees sway in the distance and I sigh at the tranquility. My parents loved each other, but they were tragic. They loved each other, but not enough to leave. Not enough to save me from seeing the brokenness that seeped through their own lives and eventually bleed into mine. I hate them for raising me in that environment. Yet I love them because they are my parents.
Were. They were my parents.
Even now, I can't let them go. I haven't spoken to them in years. I haven't been back to this house in almost a decade. Which is funny, because I still feel trapped here. Trapped in that house. Trapped hearing the screaming and fighting. Therapy hasn't helped. One therapist suggested I come back but that was years ago and I never did.
I'm here now though.
The sky has become darker and the mist has amplified causing an eerie feeling to settle over me. This place has always felt weird. I catch a glimpse of someone out of the corner of my eye when I near the house.
She had long dark hair, braided into a crown around her small head. Her bleak pale skin blended into the mist. It was me. I was sitting on the small concrete pathway humming to myself as I scribbled on the ground with chalk. I looked to be around eight. I remember this day. It was when one of the worst arguments happened. Mom and Dad got into another fight and he threw a glass vase at her. I ran inside and found her on the ground bleeding with him bent down at her side profusely apologizing.
I walk closer and a small stick from one of the trees must have fallen onto the pathway because I hear a crunch come from under my foot. The little girl's head shoots up and she stares me down before smiling gently.
"It's okay," she said. Pushing off the ground with her hands and then dusted off the dirt that had collected on her long blue skirt. The white blouse was stained with blood but it didn't seem to bother her. "You can let go now."
I was too stunned to speak back for a moment. I stood still, letting the breeze blow my hair behind me. Blowing open the unzipped jacket that I had wrapped around me earlier. My arms dangled at my side and I processed what she said. I looked down for a second before lifting my head back up but the little girl had already walked off. She walked further and further into the field opposite to the house till the mist became too thick and she disappeared.
I go to follow in her path but Aunt Sheril's heels clicked on the rotted wood of the porch as she walked out of the door and over towards me. "Are you coming back inside?"
I nodded wordlessly and followed her back into the house, but not before taking a quick look towards the field where the girl disappeared. I now stand in front of the antique vases that hold my parents' ashes feeling a little lighter. Letting go of the trauma this house has brought me. That they raised me in. Finding forgiveness. Allowing the small child that still exists in me to be healed.
The young girl shrugged and leaned back into the cold brick wall casually, "don't worry about it."
The figure slammed the duffle bag back down onto the table and puffed their cheeks up before blowing the air between their lips harshly. "What do you want."
"What do I want," she laughed shaking her head. "You know what I want. I want you to go to the judge and tell them my friend is being framed."
"I can't do that."
"Yes," Anina stood up straight before walking to the small table between. She leaned towards the figure that shifted their body to the side. The dimly lit area provided them the perfect cover beside the hood that was secured around their head. "You will, or else I leak this to the press and everybody in this small godforsaken town finds out exactly what you did."
"You wouldn't," they muttered darkly. Their body went rigid.
"I have nothing else to lose."
She stared down the hooded figure for a couple of seconds longer. The fear that she felt before has completely vanished. Anina straightened her shoulders before giving one last glare and turning around. Lisa did not kill the mayor, and she would be the one to prove it.
The rich sat high above the city. Leaving all us poor folk to stare up dreaming of the day we can live in the clouds as they do. Everyone reaches their arm up hoping to get a small taste of what life up there could be like.
Everyone also knows it's impossible to taste if you weren't born into it.
So as I lay in bed, staring up at the lights of their mansions that illuminate the ground below instead of the stars. I go to sleep wishing for a different life. Knowing tomorrow I will wake up in the same pit of despair. Working my life away for nothing but to remind the upper class that they don't want to end up like us. Like me.
