(Trigger warning: blood, loss of limb)
The glow emanating from the little balls of light was warm. It was weak enough that it would not direct any attention to them, but bright enough to show the smile on Alastair’s face. “As someone who can control Magick, you should have the Sight, as well. You can see it, can’t you? The veins from which power flows? It is the greatest proof of your hidden ability.”
Indeed, she does. Around them, thin, thread-like yellow lines twisted around the balls of light, with the ones burning brighter surrounded by more threads.
Amila, however, felt as if something heavy dropped inside her stomach.
She pushed him off of her with a weak ‘excuse me’, but Alastair grabbed her by the arm before she could take any step away.
“I’m sorry, I think you might be mistaking me for something or someone else,” Amila babbled while trying to pull her arm off the other’s grip feebly. She had to move. In the back of her head, she could almost hear her father's words, adding urgency to her actions.
The young man's brows furrowed. “What? No, what do you mean—”
He didn't notice a couple of threads close to his arm. Alastair pulled his hand away, wincing at the sudden burning prick, and Amila used her chance to run towards the entrance of the courtyard. She had her eyes down, her hood pulled over her head, so she failed to notice the people standing close to the gates as soon as she exited.
“Hey! Watch it—wait, aren’t you that gal earlier?”
Amila felt cold when she realized that it was the same group of guys from earlier. She pulled her hood tighter and tried to leave.
“Oy, you’re not going anywhere!” One of them grabbed her by the wrist.
“Let me go!” She tried to pull away, but the grip on her arm was tight. They were gathering a crowd, the people whispering and pointing, but the expressions on the boys' faces told her that they were suspicious of her.
“We know what you are,” the leader of the group sneered. “We felt that force earlier. You caused that, didn’t you? Huh?” It was getting out of hand, and Amila could feel her blood literally boiling, but was unable to do anything.
This is bad. She needs to go. She needs to go now .
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Let me go, now!”
“Don’t lie!” The leader was red in the face as he glared at her, tightening his grip enough to make her yelp in pain. “I know your kind of people. You’re one of them, aren’t you? One of those abnormalities?”
The crowd was growing, with more than half of the courtyard focused on them. Many of the refugees gathered close around the entrance of the courtyard, wary, while those who were merely walking by had stopped and looked. The man was also getting more agitated.
The thrum in her blood grew, and she could see a couple of threads appearing in the air.
Someone from the crowd, another young man wearing expensive-looking clothes, approached them. “Pardon, sir, but might you calm down and speak of your problem? There is no need to resort to these actions in public, especially to a lady.”
The angry man turned his glare to the newcomer and scoffed, “Pah, trying to look like a gentleman for the crowd, are you? Scram. You’re not the one I have business with.”
Unperturbed, the well-dressed person answered the man, “While it’s true that I am an outsider in this issue, I cannot, in my conscience, let you continue with such violent actions, especially as it's evident that you’re hurting this young lady here.”
There were murmurs of agreement from the crowds, making the leader even redder in the face. Suddenly, he smirked.
“You come trying to defend this girl, but do you even have any idea what she is?”
The statement made the other man furrow his brows. Before he could say anything in reply, the leader forcefully pulled Amila to face the crowd and pointed his finger at her.
“She’s one of them! She can use Magick!”
The people gasped and cried, all eyes turning to Amila. In a second, the atmosphere completely changed. Many from the crowd took a few steps back, fear evident in their eyes and shaking limbs. Some, especially from the refugees, looked suspicious, almost angry.
“I do not lie! I, as well as my friends, have witnessed it!” The leader turned to look around the crowd, pulling Amila roughly with his movements. “We found her in some empty alley, and when we approached her, the air started feeling different. It felt weird, suffocating, heavy. She looked as if she would have charged at us, too, before she suddenly ran away. Everything became normal again when she was gone.”
There were shaky ‘ohs’ from the ladies in the crowd, and a few more stepped back.
The threads were also multiplying at an increased pace, now starting to cover the entire courtyard.
“You... you can’t just blurt out such accusations without any solid proof of your claims,” the young man stated, but he, too, was now looking at Amila with a hint of fear and suspicion.
“Say what you want, but I know what I felt. What else could bring such abnormalities other than her kind? We all know what they are.” He glared at Amila again.
“Harbingers of destruction. Bringers of death, whose greed can never be satiated, even at the suffering of others. Isn't our history an undeniable proof of that? We all know what happened in the past with Eden!”
The people all looked at each other, whispering and nodding with the words.
"I have no idea what you are talking about!" Amila cried as she tried to pull her arm. "I know of no Eden, and definitely have no connection to whatever that place is!"
"How can we know that? Your kind has always been known to be liars." His grip tightened. "Also, the School of Eden is a well-known story. Everyone had known of them since childhood! Founded by people gifted with abilities like yours, it caused a cataclysm that almost destroyed the lands and killed more than half of the population. It shows everyone what kind of people you all are: a power-hungry lot and murdering criminals!"
The murmurs were getting louder, with each person adding their own input.
“Didn’t they also find a little girl earlier setting someone on fire a few blocks away? Are there actually many more of them here?”
“News of the climate outside the city being unstable and unpredictable has also been circulating, as well, causing an influx of refugees. Wasn’t it the same when the school used to exist?”
“So, what? You’re saying that another group has been doing experiments again and bringing the apocalypse a second time?”
“Someone needs to do something! We won't be able to sleep securely after this!”
As the unease continued to grow, so, too, was the thrum coursing through Amila’s body that she was already feeling it with her ears like wild pulses. It was as if her blood was boiling, and she felt as if steam was coming out of her nose and mouth.
The courtyard was now filled with bright-colored threads; reds, oranges, and yellows tangling around each other.
“Please. Let me go .”
Amila’s voice was now weak, and she felt like her head was swimming in cotton. The man holding her sneered. “And have you fled from this city? You and all your kind are a threat, and we can’t let you wandering around.”
She felt as if her heart was slowing to a stop, all her thoughts leaving but one word to echo in her now silent mind: run.
“I said. . . LET ME GO!”
Threads of red, yellow, and orange started to flow and wrap around the man’s arm, the one that was holding Amila in place. Without any thought, the threads multiplied in number and started to gather around her like a colorful cocoon visible only to her.
The thread-covered arm started twitching uncontrollably, and the man started wailing in pain, dropping Amila's wrist from his grip. Then, after a couple of seconds, the threads seemed to go taut like they were pulled, and the twitching arm burst into a pile of blood and flesh, painting the man’s radius red.
Amila, with her cocoon, was protected from the aftermath, standing stiff as she watched blood, small strips of muscle, and clots sprayed around her.