Arwen ran. She didn't look back, she didn't pause, and she ran. Not even when she could feel heat licking her feet from the explosion Izara caused, not even when she heard Rhea's scream.
Arwen ran until everywhere suddenly went silent. She tripped over her foot and fell down a deep, dark hole.
It was dark and quiet. The kind that settled dread deep into the mind and body. Arwen's heart thudded loud and fast in her chest. Adrenaline dulled the pain of her sprained ankle and the sting from the cut on her right knee.
She crouched low, pressing herself against the muddy wall, trying her possible best to stay hidden. Her breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps, and she hoped the sound of her heartbeat and heavy breathing wouldn't give her away.
With much effort, she strained her ears, listening for any sound of commotion. Above the pounding in her chest and the rushing of blood in her veins, she heard it: the crackling roar of fire burning their small cottage and the thunderous gallop of horses, hooves striking the ground in a threatening rhythm.
Arwen's heart was torn on what to do. She badly wanted to get up and have a peek at what remained of their home. She needed to know if it was safe to crawl out of the hole she'd fallen into. But fear held her in place, wrapping its ugly hands around her like chains.
Something in her heart told her the ugly truth. Her sisters were captured. There was no way they could fight off trained soldiers or outrun their horses.
She didn't know how long she had spent in that hole. She still wasn't sure if the area was clear, but she had stayed low for a time that felt like forever, and she heard nothing.
Drawing in a deep breath, Arwen gave a firm nod. 'It's time,' she told herself.
But the very moment she rose to her feet, a sudden, white-hot, sharp, piercing pain shot through her ankle and yanked her back down.
She bit hard on her tongue to choke the scream crawling up her throat. Anyone—anything could be out there, patiently waiting for her to make a sound, to show herself.
A hiss slipped through her teeth as she bundled the skirt of her dress in her trembling hands, lifting it high enough to see…
Her breath caught.
Her eyes slammed shut.
She sprained her ankle.
The bone was poking through her skin.
"Heavens, no…" she whispered.
Her eyebrows furrowed in both pain and worry. Pain tightened every muscle in her face. Fire danced up her leg, her skin hot and flushed. Her blouse clung to her slick, sweat-soaked body.
Her breath was shallow and rattling like a shattered window about to shatter.
She could not move; she dared not.
Drops of sweat clung to her thick lashes; her vision blurred. Still she stared wide-eyed – unblinkingly – at the injury.
She tried to think through the pain; she had to clear her head and focus on the magic stored inside her, but the problem that had led her to this state left her mind jumbled, and the pain made her lungs too shallow to draw in enough air.
The harder she tried, the harder it became. The pin pressed back with double force. Slowly, she became overwhelmed by panic.
She clenched her teeth and drew in a long, deep breath through them – sharp and hissing – in an attempt to stay calm.
Her hands hovered over her ankle, her thin, long, trembling fingers stretched outward. She closed her eyes and tried again.
She reached inward; she felt it pulsing through her veins, singing like electricity, travelling with speed. It reached her shoulders, her arms, her wrists –
And then, just as it reached her fingertips–
It vanished.
As if it had never been there at all.
That was it.
Her breaking point.
Her lips trembled. Eyes watered. The frightened look on Rhea's face flashed across her mind, and a tear tracked down her dirt-smeared cheek.
She ran.
Her sisters were in trouble, and she ran like a coward.
The thought made her heart ache. More tears followed, one after another like the first drops of rain before a storm.
Sniffling, she stretched out her shaky hands again and exhaled deeply and desperately.
C'mon, c'mon. Please, please.
She screamed it in her mind, over and over again, as she tried to wield her magic again and tried to command it and to use it.
But just like the last time–
It died at her fingertips.
Gone. Nothing.
The pathetic mix of failure and shame crushed her from the inside. Her ankle throbbed; it burnt.
A sob broke out of her before she could stop it, sad and broken.
Breathing hard and heavily, She slumped and her spine pressed against the rough wall.
Amidst the excruciating pain and thick, choking shame was the hollow sting of defeat, eating her up from the inside.
Her chest rose and fell in uneven bursts, the heat had spread all over, she was drenched in her own sweat, her blouse sticking to her like a second skin. Her mouth was dry, her throat raw and itchy as though she had swallowed sand.
Her eyelids became heavy and droopy.
Her vision blurred. The pain in her head tightened and sharpened, stinging behind her eyes until it felt like ritual drums were pounding in her skull.
Through her hazy gaze, she was the blurry outline of a person… No, an animal?
She shook her head and blinked rapidly to get a clearer view.
It was a girl.
Her breath hitched in her throat.
The girl moved like a shadow, or Arwen's poor sight made it seem so. All she could see was the girl's short white hair as it moved. Shimmering like frost, flickering with each movement.
With great difficulty, her lips moved, but no words were spoken.
Save me.
Help me.
She had intended to say it, but it was like some invisible weight was crushing down on her body. She couldn't even keep her eyes open any longer.
Her eyes fluttered. They felt heavy, too heavy. But just before they closed, the girl's face came into focus, steady and clear.
A mischievous grin played on her lips. She leaned in; her big doll eyes didn't blink when she muttered the word, "Caidil".
The word cut through the air like ice; there was a shift in the atmosphere. It suddenly became very chilly.
Before Arwen realised what the girl had done, she was hit with a sudden urge to sleep.
A wave of exhaustion hit her instantly, yet bliss overcame her.
A honey-thick pull that enveloped her. She was too weak and too tired to fight it.
Slowly, the pain dulled, her breathing became steady, and she found herself drifting into a dreamless slumber.
Into bliss.
The white-haired girl stood tall, watching silently as Arwen slipped into slumber.
The smile on her face vanished like it never appeared. The change in her expression was startling; her entire face transformed.
Her almond-slanted eyes narrowed. The icy blue orbs within them sparked like blue flame, sharp and calculating.
Her outfit was odd. Although the sun was starting to set, casting streaks of gold across the sky, it was still very much hot with enough heat from the burning cottage.
Yet, the girl was dressed in an elegant winter gown of soft ivory and silver blue. Gold filigree set with shimmering sapphire gems embroidered the bodice.
Plush fur cuffs that matched the fur draped across her shoulders and a layered skirt that flowed in waves with the front parted to reveal deep blue leggings beneath, paired with blue and white knee-length furry fox fur boots.
Her head tilted to the side in a childlike manner despite her cold, impassive expression.
Suddenly, she yelled. "She's out!"
Her voice carried power; it cracked the air like a whip. It didn't sound nearly as young as she looked. It had a rough edge to it.
Then the strangest thing happened.
It was as if the world around them shifted. Without any sound or commotion, reality wrapped like a fabric turned inside out.
No longer were they in a deep dark hole. No, it had disappeared, and in its place was solid, flat ground with the burning cottage just a few steps behind them.
"Pitiful," came a soft whisper from behind the winter-dressed girl.
She materialised out of thin air, with evidence of the fading whirl of breeze behind her.
A complete lookalike.
Every detail matched the first girl. From the sharp lines of her face to the tilt of her almond-shaped eyes, the cute curve of her mouth and even the sparkling indigo blue eyes.
An absolute reflection.
The only thing that spelt them apart was the colour of her winter dress.
Flaming red with intricate golden details carved over the bodice and a wide belt of the same gold colour that cinched her slim waist.
Unlike the cold, unfeeling aura her twin carried, this girl emitted an angelic softness. A special type of gentleness surrounded her, but regardless of her ethereal and innocent appearance, her eyes carried a sharp glint of danger and threat.
In a way, they were the same, but they were not.