A Song of Silence

Chapter 102: A Hand in the Dark

Thank You to @ephaura for your support of A Song of Silence!! Every read, comment, and favorite means the world to me!!!

Also, thank you to everyone for the 26k reads!!! That is awesome and thank you to everyone for your support!!!

On my way to the guild, I tried to put Azazel's suggestion into practice. At some point, I concentrated so hard that I got a headache. Every failure was greeted with a resigned huff as I acted like I was giving up before I resumed my attempts once more. Trying to concentrate on a trotting horse was no easy thing either. The stable boy gad taken one look at my bloodied clothes and had recognized me. It hadn't taken long for the news of my victory to travel across the city, so the boy quickly averted his eyes and handed me their quickest, strongest stallion. I squeezed a few coins into the boys frightened fingers before jumping on the horse and heading towards the guild headquarters across town. The stallion was rough to handle, at first, but I quickly tangled him into submission.

During the short ride to the keep, my attempts at conjuring a hand got me nowhere. No matter how I thought about it, the first thing that always came to mind was my mentor telling me, "Magic only works the way that it manifests. It is useless to try to change it into anything else." That train of thought had quickly allowed me to master my lighting. I stopped fighting my nature and the control came with the lack of a fight.

But then my mind goes to what Azazel said, "...why can't you will it into something new?" He had scoffed at my response and to his thinking, my response did sound preposterous. Why can't I will it into something new? Because it's not the way magic works or because it is something I had never done before. Something I had never thought to do or even tried. I held my palm face up and furrowed my brows in concentration willing something, anything to appear. Still nothing.

Maybe I was thinking about it all wrong. I had always thought my magic to be a stagnant pool waiting to be used and shaped. Indeed that is what it felt like to me, but what if I thought of it as something moving, something flowing? Maybe that would work. But what flowed that I had close contact to? A river? No, that was too close to water magic. A bolt of lighting maybe? No, that was too quick. It used up all its energy in very little time and burnt out quickly. Oh, I know, A thunderstorm. The clouds rolled as the storm moved in and the lighting and thunder were often erratic and spaced out throughout the storm. That it! That's what I would use.

Envisioning the last time I had been in a thunderstorm, I remembered the power and chaos that I felt at being at the center of such a powerful force of nature. I had been tempted to take control of it and let lighting wreak havoc everywhere. Just to get a taste of the power lying in wait ahead of me. Instead, I had let nature take its course as the sound of water finally reached me and the lightning and thunder awakened to its own tune. In melancholy, I had refused to reach for the power that lay above me, despite its allure. Many storms had tempted me just the same since, but I hadn't allowed myself to take control of it.

But what if I had done so? What if I had allowed myself to take the lightings power within me? Would I have been able to control my power better. Would I be having the same trouble that I now was at creating a hand from lightning, or would it have come easily. That's the problem with choices. They always come with a what if. What if. What if. What if. In the end, I would have gone insane with the amount of power I controlled of I would have died on the spot. It was why fae who controlled water did not try to control the sea. Or a fae of the air did not try to shape every Patrick's of air around them. It would be too much.

There was a thin line between too much and too little of any power. Too much lightning and I would die. Too little and it would do nothing. Lighting in a thunderstorm was quick. Instant. A blink and it was there and gone. I snapped my fingers. Nothing. A web of lighting would come to my fingertips if I wished it to and I could shape it into nearly anything. Nearly was the word to focus on. I snapped my fingers again. Nothing. Again. Nothing. Again. Nothing. Over and over and over it goes. Still nothing. I have arrived at the keep at this point and have no choice but to abandon my quest for a new hand and instead dismount the stallion. The stable hand takes the horse from me as I walk inside.

The servants and other assassins watch me warily as I pass. They no doubt have been told the news and are waiting for what is to come next. Despite their misgivings, I know Karasi will do right by these fae. No matter what happens, she will do a better job than I ever could. I walk the familiar maze of hallways that I had memorized long ago. The hallways were the same dark, dull, and dangerous that they had always been, but now that their master was dead, this place no longer reeked of fear and violence. Of pain and agony. The cause of all that was dead and left to the sands, forgotten and alone as he was always meant to be. It was liberating. It was freeing. And it was oh so lonely.

Now that I had no enemy, I had no purpose and it was very freeing, yes, but it left boredom in its wake and that often led to worse things. Things that would be better left for another day. Now that I think about it, my fathers death had been quick. It had been instinct to stab that dagger into his cruel, cold heart. Worst if all, it had felt good. The lighting quick speed that the light left his eyes. How quickly his heart stopped beating. How fast his lungs stopped working. One moment he was there and the next he was gone. One moment I was trapped under his thumb and the next, I was free. Free. Free. Free.

I stop walking and embrace that word. Finally, once this is over, I will be fucking free. Oh, how nice of us to think it. After so many harsh, cruel years, I will finally be free. I can practically feel the stares of the assassins around me, but for the moment as I relish in my freedom, I don't really give a shit. "Um, miss?" A voice squeaks out next to me. I open my eyes and see the hallway covered in purple lighting. It lights up the room and touches everything, but harms nothing. The guards and maids that had been observing me stared at me wide eyed with fear. They have not seen an ability like mine in a while since it is so rare. My father was also most likely prone to rages. He would no doubt have killed everyone in the hall because he wanted to. He had no powers to do so, but he had the skill and could have done it easily.

I look down to see the lighting writhing around my body as well. Ready for my command. Ready to take whatever shape or strike at my command. Ready to defend me at a moments notice. I no doubt looked vengeful and frightening. That would not do. With a simple thought from me, the lightning draws back into my body except for some of it, which I twist and transform until it eclipses where my hand used to be. A hand of lightning solidifies from the lightning. It will move similar to a real hand and will feel as real as I could make it. Azazel would no doubt be telling me, "I told you so," if he was here. Straightening my shoulders, I look to the double doors that lead into the throne room. Marching forward, my new hand glowing all the while, I push the door open to reveal the crowd within.