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Rated: E · Fiction · Dark · #2223517
This is a character I experimented with a few years ago.
I advance from the shadows that fill the cold grimy cell. A chink of watery sunlight has broken through the roof of the stone space and illuminates the young woman curled into a ball on the far side of the enclosed area. The girl notices my advance and her eyes widen with fear at my imposing presence.

Billowing over the ground, my deep violet cape seems never to rest at a standstill, reflecting my every movement like ripples in a silent pond. Our eyes meet and for just a moment her fear washes over me and regretfully, so does my own guilt. I feel it festering in that small, weak part of my mind. In resistance I bite my lip, finding strength in the small painful act, a momentary diversion, and settle my disillusioned thoughts.

Silence prevails in the cell. As I clear my thoughts, the empty darkness engulfing the two of us seems to deepen. The power I now call upon rises up within me. Varied feelings; a pleasant tingle accompanied by an uncomfortable prickling sensation crawl up my arms, originating at my fingertips, and traversing my body until the power accumulates between my shoulder blades, aching to be set free.

I step forward and a foreboding peace settles in me. Now, with the weak thoughts of guilt and pain locked away in the dark recesses of my mind, I am able to continue. I raise one hand in front of me, pause, and then proceed to allow the power to flow from my fingertips. It swirls around my figure, emanating a soft azure light as it floats gracefully, lightly catching on rays of sunlight piercing the space.

The girl glances about in equal parts wonder and apprehension. A thin tendril of the mystical power dances through my fingers and with a small gesture I freeze its movement and gently send it floating across the dungeon towards the girl. She backs farther against the wall.

“Fear not...girl” I speak dryly, my voice void of nearly all emotion save for a whisper of growing satisfaction. “This pain is momentary. I dare say you have suffered the worst already.”

She fails to respond verbally, choosing to shift her focus from the cobbled stone to me. As she glares intensely in my direction I think with silent, cold humor, ‘if looks could kill…’

The blue mist clouds around the girl, simultaneously heavy and delicate. Hesitantly, she draws a shuddered breath but coughs as she inhales the mist as well. Unable to fight the magic she slumps against the wall, forced immobile, and I am able to access her memories.

Flicking through them, I locate an especially painful one.

“A betrayal” I whisper leeringly, “he left you for your sister, oh... you poor dear.” My voice drips with sarcasm. More images flicker through the connection, a promised marriage, the ring destined to unite the two lovers falling from the boy’s hand, a stream of dark nights spent alone after the incident, the ensuing grief, the pooling pain.

Arriving at the end of the memory, I drop the connection, and the mist streams from her hair, her clothing, and drips from her eyes, like ghostly tears. It chooses to pool on the cold stone floor, a snake lying in wait for its next victim. I ever so slightly motion in its direction and it rejoins the rest swirling around me. Her mind now freed, silent tears, real tears, immediately leak from her eyes, though shadowed in the chamber’s perpetual darkness.

Overcome with emotion, she begins to shake with heavy sobs, a pitiful sight. A sight I vow never to fall prey to myself.

I step away, my work complete, and leave her alone with only the echoing of the iron door as it slams shut and locks behind my receding figure.
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