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The Potentate
Chapter 8: Ep. 2 - A Bitter Plan, I

Chapter 8: Ep. 2 - A Bitter Plan, I

Juro wrapped his arm around Morrigan’s waist, propping her up as they headed back towards the hospital to regroup with Elizabeth. Before out of sight from Morrigan’s home, which was nothing more than debris billowing black smoke, Juro turned around and stared at the large oak tree that now stood solemnly beside the wreckage. Or, rather, he looked behind the tree, at the face of a cowering young boy. Adam had made it out. Juro discreetly brought a finger over his cracked lips, hushing him. When he turned back around, he found Morrigan’s puffy red eyes piercing him.

“Is something wrong?” her voice hardened.

Juro’s pace slowed before it came to a full stop, and he removed his arm from behind Morrigan. “Yeah, I just can’t believe all of this happened in a day. If you ever need anything, any of us would help you,” he paused for a moment, putting his hand on the back of his neck to rub it. “You can stay at my place if you need to. I’ll take the spare shed, and you can take the main room. Since we've been reported though, I doubt it'd be safe.”

Morrigan wanted so desperately to laugh but not because she was happy. She wanted to laugh, because she couldn’t cry anymore or feel anything but a bubbling in her chest. If she were to laugh now, she knew her humanity was lost.

So, she flashed a quick smile instead. Juro once more propped her up, and they continued to walk towards the hospital. Morrigan continued to talk to the voice.

So, what are you saying?

The voice, now louder than before, responded. [Only one Leith has ever managed to possess more than one power, Morrigan.]

Then… are you saying I’m some type of incarnate of Lilith? The first Leith? The voice did not respond. But, why me? Why now? None of this makes any sense, and it’s completely unprecedented. One terrible incarnate she must have been, because if Lilith were truly with her, her father wouldn’t have his screams seared out of his lungs in front of her.

Seemingly ignoring the question, the voice continued its one-sided conversation. [Your bloodline, Morrigan. The power of any Leith, including the power of death, can only be passed from such means.]

The power of death? Morrigan found the comment humorous, because to her, it wasn’t the power of death. It was the power of life, of endless possibility, a greater future. Although, a deeper curiosity seemed to bloom within her; she had only ever tried using the power to bring life. Could she kill then, too?

So, who was my mother? Hesitating for a moment, Morrigan stumbled before continuing, did she have the same power as me? A question Morrigan had been dying to know, the question of if this voice was the same as her mothers, finally found its way into the conversation. You’ve helped me a lot, even though we’ve just met. So be honest with me. Are you my mo-”

Before Morrigan could get her question out, the frigid wind seemed to encase her burns in a cold embrace and she flinched, wobbling before Juro steadied her. Right, the burns. She had been so preoccupied she completely forgot about them.

Juro looked at her, concern fluttering in his eyes like birds, perhaps like a flock of paper cranes. “You okay? The burns must hurt a lot, but can’t you heal them?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. Sorry, I just forgot about it. I’m sorry if you feel nervous or uncomfortable, since I’m not wearing my gloves. I lost them in the fire.”

“No, please don’t worry about it. I trust you. We can see if Alyssa has a pair you can use.”

Morrigan gave a small nod as she took a deep breath, calming herself before she tried to heal her body. She was apprehensive, to say the least, because if she were to heal herself, any lingering touch from her father would disappear from her skin. She had despised how his wrinkly old skin would be imprinted by any slight touch, but a part of her wished that her skin could do the same, too. She began to heal the burned skin on her arms before letting out a shocked gasp, suddenly swaying on her feet.

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“Morr? You okay?”

A loud ringing shrieked into her ears as if she were swarmed by sirens. Her vision started fading in and out, black dots like radio static clouding her vision. Finally feeling herself fall backward, she watched Juro shout and reach out before she collapsed.

***

“Honestly, I think Morrigan should stick with the way things are,” said Alyssa. It had been a while since Elizabeth, Morrigan, and Juro left, and she had nothing better to do than kill the time before they arrived. The tension had slowly grown between Alyssa and Bruno; she stood, leaning back jauntily on her tidy white desk while Bruno sat on the floor, far from her.

“If you suddenly found out you were a Leith, would you brush it off?” he replied, staring at the blank ceiling to avoid her eyes.

She sighed, shifting her weight uncomfortably. Even in apparent discomfort, her movements barely made a sound, still graceful in their eternal nature. Their argument earlier would have fully ended any relationship had it not been for Morrigan jumping through her window. “Yeah, I would brush it off. I need to take care of my family, anyway. Who else is going to keep the legacy going?” She let out a small, radiant laugh toward the end, her brown eyes still quietly observing Bruno.

Bruno finally turned his head to eye the trash can that she had been so preoccupied with earlier. He raised his voice, annoyed by her dismissal of such a miracle. “Seriously? Because it’s all about inheriting the family’s duty! Your legacy! When will you finally do what you love?” He voice strained on the last phrase.

He looked up at her, desperate to get some sort of response, but all she did was look down at her bitten nails, moving her hand into different positions as if her nails would grow longer at certain angles. To say that Alyssa agreed with her parents would have been a cruel error in her eyes, but she never would display her disdain or apprehension. What was the point in harming anyone? Emotion and beauty plagued everyone, so why take it out on those very same people? Alyssa would never take her true feelings out on the world, so she resorted to the next best thing.

She looked at her bitten fingernails, the skin around the grotesque nubs peeled back, scabbing, and bleeding.

Perhaps there was a time Bruno could have changed things, but that time was far gone. It was lost in that fight before Morrigan’s appearance, and whatever she had once felt could never be rekindled. Whatever she had felt was burning, grand, and passionate, until slowly smothered and depraved of air, of growth. It was wet now, soggy and drenched like a used paper towel. It slowly disintegrated at the ends, feathery and delicate like snow, unable to be relit.

“I’m sorry, Alyssa, I didn’t mean it. But you need to stick up for what you love, sometimes,” he whispered, hoping his voice sounded warmer and apologetic.

“It’s okay. I know it seems like my Mom and Dad don’t care about me and only about our family name, but I understand why. If they found out I hung out with ordinary people instead of Leiths, they’d lose their mind. They’d start caring then,” she jokingly replied, trying to lighten up the mood but her sad smile still wrung out her positive tone like a wet rag.

Bruno gave a nod and let out a light sigh, finally more at ease with the environment. “Hey, I know you threw it away, but—” He suddenly flinched, cut off by a violent banging from downstairs.

“Alyssa?” The banging continued, loud and violent as it quickly traveled through the entire house, the sound sprinting beneath her bedroom door and drowning the room. “Alyssa, please open this door!”

Alyssa’s eyes widened in panic as she sprinted downstairs, stumbling down one of the stairs and feeling her heart pounding in her throat. Her mother was going to beat her to the front door.

“Alyssa, who’s looking for you?” Her mother replied, voice annoyed with the inconvenience. “You should be studying right now and preparing for the fundraiser. Your father and I are just about to leave for our business trip.”

Before Alyssa could protest, her mother unlocked the door, grabbed the handle, and flung it open.