After nearly five years, Ymir Amaranthus finally returns home at his father's request, however disaster strikes when multiple unexplained attacks have been reported happening around the supernatural fractions. Witches, vampires, werewolves, and crea...
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MY EYES ARE heavy and tired when I open them, only to regret it when I'm met with a bright light that immediately burns my retinas as punishment. I blink a few times to let them adjust and that's when I look around I realize I'm in an unfamiliar room that smells of bleach and cleaning products. I try to move but I'm restrained by the cuffs tied around my arms and ankles. I tried to shake myself loose but the cuffs were tight. I looked around and felt panic rise when I realized that this wasn't just some room, but I was in some sort of cell.
I looked down at my clothes, my black jeans and white shirt soaked in crimson, even my black leather jacket had blood lingering along the sleeves.
So it wasn't a nightmare.
"You're awake," a deep voice says and I swear the voice sounds like it's above me. My eyes dart upwards at the ceiling seeing the speaker placed there, and then my eyes fall right in front of me to the large square glass window showcasing a group of people looking at me with concentrated stares. Three men and two women.
I blinked at them.
The handcuffs on my wrist rattled hollowly in the large interrogation room as I tried to free myself again, this time concentrating very hard on the locks with my eyes. "The cuffs around you are made with ash so your magic won't be any help to you here." One of the women spoke into the mic, sharp hazel eyes framed behind a pair of specs that took up most of her round face.
How did they know I had magic? Who are they?
"We'll be right with you in just a moment," she spoke into the mic again, placing it down and turning her attention back to the people around her. I watched with heavy eyes as they talked amongst themselves behind the square-framed glass that separated us. A man who looked to be in charge picked up a folder, beginning to skim through it with his index finger flipping the files inside.
I lowered my head down. I didn't realize tears had swelled my eyes until they landed on my shoes underneath the table. In all my life, I had never felt so overwhelmed with emotion. I've never felt such a drive of rage to end someone's life and at the same time a ball of sadness that overflowed my insides like a river. I've really never been taught what to do with my emotions – my father always taught us witches were supposed to stay calm, not fight with their emotions because magic is tied to emotion, and using magic while under the influence can cause grave mistakes. But I wore my emotions like the clothes on my back, clearly visible and overtaking my body whole.
And now? Now, I felt sore. My arms were shaking as I held myself down in the seat. I could feel the two men behind the glass looking at me, eyes trained on me harshly behind the glass like an animal at a Zoo. I couldn't focus on whatever else they were saying, the two now trying to talk to me over the intercom, perhaps even asking me questions, but I couldn't hear them. I didn't want to hear them.
My entire family — gone. Adah and Marée — gone. The two had taken me under their wings, guided me, and had faith in me from the beginning when no one else did. No, we weren't blood related and they didn't give birth to me but they were like mothers to me despite all that because blood doesn't always dictate how strong a bond can be.
