Wendy stopped breathing for a moment, her stormy eyes focused on the figure across from her as she recognized it from vivid memories of a different lifetime. A lifetime where she was young, carefree, where her family wasn't yet ruptured nor tainted by evil.
Wendy had wished for many years to be able to see her mother one more time. And never in a million years would she have imagined this happening. A face so similar to hers, with sapphire eyes, and brown hair that was share by her sisters. Her mother, her beautiful mother.
Her instinct was telling her to attack, to act, do something! Yet she could not bring herself to move forward.
A distinct memory coming forth, assaulting her before she could stop herself.
A young version of herself, around 5-years-old, sat on a big canopy bed that had golden posts; her little legs dangling from the side. The color of the sheets a deep burgundy and multiple pillows sat atop it with a big comforter a shade lighter than the sheets thrown off to the side of the bed.
The little girl sat fiddling with her hands, her head cast down. A tall woman with brown curls and the most beautiful set of stormy eyes that shone in the dim light of the room. The woman sat down next to her daughter and put her slim hand under the child's chin to make her look up.
"What is troubling you, my child?"
The little girl looked into her mother's eyes, "I will never b-be as good as Joanna or Elena, Mother." Her innocent eyes wet with fat tears.
The woman smiled gently, "You, Wendy, youngest daughter of the kings of Asgard, are destined for great things. You shall have your own future apart from your sisters and from this," she said, slowly gesturing to the room around them.
The five-year-old's eyebrows drew together in a confused frown, and her eyes narrowed with uncertainty, "What does that mean?"
"That means, " the older woman started, her long arms wrapping around the little girl's body, "That one day, you will surpass us all. One day, you will do great things. You will see when the time comes."
Young Wendy sniffed and burrowed into her mother's warmth.
"You are not her," Wendy growled. The rawness in her voice betraying how much more this had affected her.
The figure before her stained all the perfect memories she had from before everything worsened. From a time before their lives were thrown down the drain and the harsh reality of what was happening in their homeland started to make itself known.
The creature smirked, knowing of her inner conflict, "You were the child I never wanted, Wendy."
And that did it. That was the last push the witch needed to act, to push herself in order to be back with her remaining family. And she would fight with everything she had in order to go back to those she loved.
"Tolle quod tuum set forma, non possis," she chanted.
She knew that what happened would always haunt her dreams; the figure of her mother warped, the skin stretching and dissolving, showing that underneath such beloved form, was a buzzing black mist, dripping out like sand inside a sack.
This mist flew straight at her face, and as a reflex, Wendy covered herself with her arms, but she was not fast enough. The same mist that had dropped from the inside of her mother's body flew up suddenly, causing her to inhale it. Cold swept into her body, her nerves shot and frayed, her muscles constricted and her blood set aflame. Her legs trembled as they struggled to hold her weight, causing her to fall onto the dirty floor in a heap. In a desperate attempt to allow the passage of air into her lungs, Wendy clawed at her neck, wheezing, bloody prints covering every part of her body she could reach.
"What did... you... do?" She wheezed; her voice strained.
She could hear voices all around her, not allowing her to pinpoint where her enemy was.
The pressure on her throat lessened, allowing her to draw stuttered and desperate breaths into her beaten lungs, she looked frantically around the room, "Where are you, you coward?!"
"I am inside you. I am in the blood of your veins and in every breath you take," the bodyless voice hissed, taunting her.
Wendy felt the pressure inside her head increase and something wet and cold rolling down her neck, she could faintly taste the coppery blood in her mouth.
Through her immense pain she managed to utter another incantation, "Depellendum esse hoc!" Her voice airy, her vision fading around the edges and dark spots appearing.
Suddenly, the suffocating pain stopped, leaving her lightheaded. She felt the wetness continuing to trail down her neck, and she touched it, unsure of what it was. Through her clearing vision, she saw her hand was stained with blood.
"How is this possible?!" The many voices belonging to the same being, the place around her shook, as if it were thundering.
She laughed slowly, her hands were now palm down on the floor, her knees planted firmly so as to allow her a moment's respite to stand up. With what little bodily strength she had left, Wendy pushed her upper body upwards, her head held high in defiance as her gaze settled upwards, "I am a daughter of Asgard, we defy all odds."
A disfigured form started arranging itself from the leftover mist. This new figure resembled a man, two horn-like stubs peering out of its head, two round globes on its chest area and a single protrusion on its lower back that was uncannily similar to a tail. Instead of feet, a dark dust surrounded the bottom half of the being.
The black mouth of the creature opened, a gaping black hole of nothingness, but the voice came loud and clear, though the mouth remained unmoving, "I must admit I am impressed. Never have I been reduced to my form."
Wendy finally looked in the direction of her torturer, she laughed almost maniacally, "Is that your true form? Pathetic!" She wheezed airily. Logically, she knew she was playing a dangerous game, but she had to buy herself some time before her next move was made.
The being let out an otherworldly screen, the hollowness of its mouth extending further, threatening to rip the disfigured head in half, "I am tired of playing games with you, witch! I am the Master and this is my realm!"
Wendy felt the temperature rising around her, her left hand stifling the blood flow from the wound on her side, and with her free hand she wiped under her nose and over her mouth.
This is it, Kitty. Please don't fail me now.
Beauchamp house
"Well, I think we got that contained," sighed Tommy. He sat on the floor, his legs crossed underneath his body, by the head of the figure laying on the couch.
Her robe had been opened slightly, allowing him and Joanna to treat her wound unobstructed, while still leaving her modesty covered, though he was pretty sure that every person in the room had seen her naked at least once. He was broken out of his reverie by a hand touching his shoulder softly.
"You shouldn't worry. My sister is the most infuriatingly stubborn person ever, she will succeed."
Underworld
"I'm getting out of here if it's the last thing I do!" Wendy yelled as she charged at the Master of the realm. White sparks of magic curling around her body, no spell needed this time, as her anger and her desire to be reunited with her family took hold over her.
The clash of darkness and light was unmistakable in the fiery pit.
YOU ARE READING
She's Not Dead
FanfictionThis takes after the last episode of Witches of East End. Wendy is dead, having given her life for her lover, Tommy, who was used as a living vessel by her father. Frederick is dead, Ingrid is pregnant and Dash and Killian switched bodies.
