Come on, Sera, you can do this, her mind yelled at her. She felt a bead of sweat form on her brow, and she concentrated on lighting up the small lightbulb. Her necklace felt heavier and heavier, burning into her chest. But the more she concentrated on the lightbulb, the more it just stayed.
“Leave it alone, Seraphina, it won’t happen.” Mariel sat in the corner of the room, studying her sister primly, as if she was a puzzle meant to be solved without frustration. “You just don’t have the ability. Give it to me.”
Sighing, little Sera got up and handed the lightbulb over. “You really think you have magic?” She said innocently, questioningly. Her little eyes got wider, and she stared as the bulb began to glow bright. Mariel just smiled triumphantly, although her eyes betrayed surprise.
“See? Easy-peasy!” She tossed the lightbulb back and stalked out of the room. She was always like a cat, ready to pounce. With her gone, Seraphina deflated, relaxing enough to crawl over to where the lightbulb remained smashed on the floor, tiny fragments too little to glue together, let alone get in the right place. Tears started to form in her eyes. How would she ever get anywhere without magic? Mariel was already going to pass her test: everybody knew it.
The breath left Sera, and she grabbed onto her necklace. Usually it calmed her down, holding the locket. But today, it did nothing to comfort her. Sobs racked her breath as she ripped it off her neck, throwing it away from her.
Tears streamed freely as her attention turned back to the light bulb. She couldn’t use it now: it was broken. Better just to clean it up now, instead of Mother finding out. Sera reached out her hands, going to sweep it up. Then her arms locked, and she struggled to fight the feeling. But what was the point? Nothing would happen anyways. She surrendered her will to whatever was controlling her arms, and instinct guided her. A little tug pulled at her heart, and her hands started to glow.
The fragments trembled excitedly, and they started to hop around. The smaller pieces glowed the brightest, and everything was drawn to the core as if they were moths to a light. A blinding flash filled the room, although Sera couldn’t bring herself to look away.
Everything was awfully quiet. Her necklace, hidden under the couch. The curtains, betraying a thin draft, were the only things moving. And her hands, trembling, rested on her thighs. The lightbulb, not a crack on it, was slowly rolling back and forth. Yes, it made a sound. A tiny little scratching.
This was worse.
“Leave it alone, Seraphina, it won’t happen.” Mariel sat in the corner of the room, studying her sister primly, as if she was a puzzle meant to be solved without frustration. “You just don’t have the ability. Give it to me.”
Sighing, little Sera got up and handed the lightbulb over. “You really think you have magic?” She said innocently, questioningly. Her little eyes got wider, and she stared as the bulb began to glow bright. Mariel just smiled triumphantly, although her eyes betrayed surprise.
“See? Easy-peasy!” She tossed the lightbulb back and stalked out of the room. She was always like a cat, ready to pounce. With her gone, Seraphina deflated, relaxing enough to crawl over to where the lightbulb remained smashed on the floor, tiny fragments too little to glue together, let alone get in the right place. Tears started to form in her eyes. How would she ever get anywhere without magic? Mariel was already going to pass her test: everybody knew it.
The breath left Sera, and she grabbed onto her necklace. Usually it calmed her down, holding the locket. But today, it did nothing to comfort her. Sobs racked her breath as she ripped it off her neck, throwing it away from her.
Tears streamed freely as her attention turned back to the light bulb. She couldn’t use it now: it was broken. Better just to clean it up now, instead of Mother finding out. Sera reached out her hands, going to sweep it up. Then her arms locked, and she struggled to fight the feeling. But what was the point? Nothing would happen anyways. She surrendered her will to whatever was controlling her arms, and instinct guided her. A little tug pulled at her heart, and her hands started to glow.
The fragments trembled excitedly, and they started to hop around. The smaller pieces glowed the brightest, and everything was drawn to the core as if they were moths to a light. A blinding flash filled the room, although Sera couldn’t bring herself to look away.
Everything was awfully quiet. Her necklace, hidden under the couch. The curtains, betraying a thin draft, were the only things moving. And her hands, trembling, rested on her thighs. The lightbulb, not a crack on it, was slowly rolling back and forth. Yes, it made a sound. A tiny little scratching.
This was worse.
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