Cora's Magic

In the middle of the night, the skies are as black as a void. The nocturnals are howling ridiculous tunes, and humanoids are on a hunt. The pale creatures scream while running into the darkness with their pitchforks in the air and torches held far too close to their chests. They shout profanities and miraculously avoid trampling over each other. All in a group effort to catch the one they deemed unfit to be in their community; the one with spells and powerful magic known as a witch. 

Cora exhaled as the mob sprinted past her. One of her abilities allowed her to merge with her surroundings. It was a skill that was almost useless in the middle of twilight. Yet she used it for a loosely rooted fear of being burned alive. Her back remained arched against the tree she took shelter in front of. She cradled her arm into her abdomen, hoping to stop the blood from further coating the forest floors. It didn't do much, but she continued her search for refuge until she stumbled against a small cabin. 

There were dim golden mirages from where she stood. It looked beautiful and much like the home she had fled from in the previous hour. She wondered for only seconds if it also had a myriad of carvings up the walls and an uncertainty that welcomed questions for the unknown and all possibilities. The exterior image rendered her brain to unconsciously place trust that it held security inside. She would never know until she stepped foot inside. If worse came to worse she could hit the muddy roads again and continue her search for refuge.

As she stalked closer to the cabin, the light from within grew less golden but yellower, brighter. She knocks on the door politely. She received no answer, so she less politely used a different ability to forcefully enter the home. Her heart took a stump when the picture of a man painted within her irises. He just lay there, obviously not in a well enough condition to answer a knock at his door. Cora sharply inhaled and mentally apologized for not receiving consent to enter the home before rushing to the man's side. 

He lay on his back, almost as if he was trying to get up for something. His lips parted slightly as a soft groan roamed the air when he jolted awake. His eyelids barely opened. He squirmed away from Cora’s touch as she struggled to place a hand on his cheek. She didn't really need to complete the act to feel the heat radiating from his body. She had already concluded that the illness this man had somehow concocted was one known for taking lives in masses since she was born. 

Despite her realization, she used whatever healing she could remember on the man, swirling objects around his house in a circle. Her act of compassion didn't last long. She still had to care for her bleeding arm after all. As unfortunate as greatness is in a time like her own, the disdain for her roots only grows after not being able to enhance her own regeneration. The man hummed in a moment of contentment with his eyelids shut. Cora then stood from her crouching position and scanned his home.

It didn't completely remind her of home anymore but it was undoubtedly fascinating. A thick shelf had been designed into the wall that led to an intersection between his common area, or perhaps an office, and his kitchen. Cora walked closer to that shelf and ran her fingers across several pamphlets with the same name boldly written in cursive.

“Zachary,” she whispered to herself and glanced back at the man on the floor. She repeats his name. 

Whipping her head around she examined more of the home. A brown aesthetic coated the entire home and made his lights remain golden-flaked despite their new intensity. It made a tranquil rest shimmer over her spine. She then spotted a rag atop a ceramic piece filled with water. She placed it in her lap as she cleaned the open gash on her arm. She didn't struggle to bite back a wince. There was no pain she felt from the flesh wound she had received in her sleep before the chase away from a furious mob. 

The sound of dripping water overlapped Zachary’s peaceful snoring. She wrapped the rag around her gash while lowering her vision to look at him. A calm sigh left her mouth and she prepared her mind for the simple process she had begun. She dragged the larger man’s body through his home. Her earlier short view of the interior led to the bedroom. Unsurprisingly, the shelves of countless novels led from the commonplace all the way to the foot of the man’s bed. She struggled to put him into the rough cushion a little bit. But once the goal was achieved, she swept her palms against each other and turned with a new goal to clean up her mess. 

It felt like the only thing she was equipped to do tonight. Cleaning was a task that involved little to no effort for her. She peacefully hummed a tune as she commanded a feather to dust across the shelves and a rag she found near the door to scrape the floors clean simultaneously. She had been twirling around and dancing when Zachary buried himself into the surface of his archive completely dumbfounded to have a witch cleaning his kitchen. His jaw drops and he weakly falls to the floor, prompting a raised eyebrow from the clueless woman. 

Cora threw a side-eyed glance at his body on the floor and huffed a breath. She almost rolled her eyes when she turned her body to him with a bowl in her hands. 

“You shouldn't be out of bed yet,” She started roughly with her tongue lathered in irritation. “My assistance to you will take more than a nap to take effect in a human body. Go back on your own.”

Zachary continued to stare at her. She was completely and mesmerizingly breathtaking. But she’s dangerous, he reasoned with himself. He then registered the language behind her cold tone. A light seer accent behind her tongue. The sound made her more captivating even though she angrily sat his dish down and stalked to his side.

“Are all human men incapable of taking care of themselves?” She spoke harshly but brought his arm over her shoulder and guided him back to his chamber.  “I won't be leaving until the storm clears.”

The night didn't give any hint towards the uprising of a storm she claimed was brewing. Zachary held his breath confused. All evening, he's been left speechless, stuck in a state of ignorance. But as if Cora were the one controlling the skies, a thick roar shook the sick man’s shoulders. He scanned over his surroundings to the witch that had provided him with a chance to live longer but when he looked up to meet her gaze and nod in thanks, she had left his side. Though through the wind crashing against his window and the low pitters of the rain, he drifted to sleep to the alluring hum of the kind witch in his home.