14 Years Ago
In a small, cluttered house on the outskirts of a dreary town, a young girl sat curled up in a corner of her dimly lit room. The air felt heavy with the smell of burnt toast and lingering arguments, and the echoes of her parents' voices seeped through the thin walls. They fought again, their words sharp and filled with disappointment. She pulled her knees to her chest, wishing to disappear into the shadows, hoping that perhaps if she made herself small enough, their anger wouldn't find her.
Whenever they argued, an unsettling energy buzzed around her, like static before a storm. She didn't understand it, but she could feel it—an intensity that simmered beneath her skin. In moments of fear or frustration, the world around her would tremble in response. Cracks would spider across the walls, and toys would rattle and fall. She could only watch, wide-eyed and trembling, as the chaos unfolded. "It's just my imagination," she would tell herself, though deep down, she feared it was something much darker.
Her parents, horrified by these occurrences, didn't seek to understand. Instead, they condemned her. "You're a cursed child!" they would yell, their faces twisted in disgust. They didn't notice the tears streaming down her cheeks or the way her heart raced, struggling to make sense of their rejection. In their eyes, she was an aberration, a mistake. And so, with their love stripped away, she felt herself spiral into a darkness that seemed all-consuming.
After what felt like an eternity of fighting, one bleak evening, her parents made the decision that would seal her fate. They dragged her, kicking and screaming, to an asylum on the edge of town—a grim building surrounded by a wrought-iron fence that loomed like a prison. "You don't belong here," they said coldly, handing her over to the stern-faced attendants. The girl felt a part of herself break that day, her heart sinking as they walked away, leaving her behind. She was alone, truly alone for the first time.
The asylum was a gloomy place, filled with echoes of despair and flickering lights. The walls were painted a dull grey, and the air felt thick with sadness. She spent her days in isolation, lost in her thoughts. In the silence, her fear would twist into self-hate, amplifying the feeling of abandonment. She wondered if she had truly brought this upon herself. Maybe her parents were right—maybe she was cursed.
One fateful evening, when the sun dipped below the horizon and shadows crept into every corner of the building, an unsettling stillness hung in the air, as if the world were holding its breath. Suddenly, the light began to flicker violently, casting erratic shadows that danced along the walls. The girl was sitting on the edge of her cot, clutching her stuffed rabbit tightly, when the alarms blared, a shrill wail piercing through the air like a cry for help.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Panic gripped her heart as she huddled in her corner. Was it her? Did she cause this? The ground trembled beneath her, and she felt a surge of energy pulsating through the very foundation of the asylum, as though it were alive. Screams erupted from the other patients, their voices echoing through the dimly lit halls like a cacophony of fear. The walls groaned and shuddered, while objects crashed to the floor, sending shards of glass spiraling through the air.
Tremors of dread coursed through her tiny frame, and she pressed her hands over her ears, trying to block out the chaos. She was afraid, caught in a storm of confusion, unsure if she was somehow responsible for the madness that unfolded around her.
Then, the building erupted into darkness. The flickering lights finally succumbed to the chaos, and shadows swallowed everything whole. The sound of shattering glass echoed in the hallways, mingling with the frantic cries of the staff and patients alike. Heart racing, she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling as if the world was unraveling around her, a tapestry of horror that had come undone.
Amidst the pandemonium, a figure emerged—a silhouette against the flickering remnants of light. He was tall and cloaked in shadows, but there was an aura of calm about him, a magnetic pull that drew her eyes.
"Do not be afraid," he said, his voice deep and soothing, cutting through the chaos like a beacon. "I am Quinlan, and I'm here to help."
She trembled, unsure if this was a dream or some twisted nightmare. "Go away!" she shouted, the words spilling out in a mixture of fear and defiance. Desperate, she tried to summon her chaotic energy, willing it to lash out at this stranger. But instead of the expected violence, the air around him shimmered, and he merely laughed, a rich, comforting sound that broke through her terror.
"Ah, but I can do that too," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a swirl of light that danced in the air, shimmering in colors she had never seen before. With a graceful gesture, he sent a nearby chair flying, splintering it against the wall, the sound of wood cracking echoing like thunder.
She gasped, instinctively shrinking back, but his laughter resonated through the dimness, calming the storm inside her. "See? Just like that," he said, amusement in his eyes. "You are not alone in this."
"Leave me alone!" she cried, fear mingling with a desperate need to push him away. The air thickened as her emotions swirled, but he merely laughed again, his gaze penetrating yet gentle.
"Do you wish to learn?" he asked, stepping closer, the chaos around them fading into the background. "I can teach you how to harness your power, how to control it."
She looked into his eyes, searching for deception but finding only sincerity. "You can teach me?"
"Indeed. But first, you must trust me."
With a shaky breath, she nodded, hope flickering to life like a candle in the dark. As he reached for her hand, the darkness that had enveloped her for so long began to lift. "Then let's go," he said, a smile spreading across his face. "Your true journey begins now."