Spellbinders Secret

Blank

Black. That's all I see. Is that all there is? In honesty, I don't know. I don't seem to know much. Why am I here? Where is here? So many questions whirl around in my head, but that's all there seems to be. Questions. Never any answers, never anything at all, come to think of it. Something cold hits me. It's so cold it feels like a... I don't know. I don't know what it feels like. My eyes flutter open and bright light fills my vision. What is this?

Someone stands in front of me. Somehow, I know he's a man, the same way I know that the blue thing he's holding is a bucket, and the wet stuff he splashed onto my face is called water. But as to what the man's called? I have know idea. Does he even have a name? Do I have name? What would it mean if I did?

"You're awake," he states. His voice is low and rough. For some reason, the hairs on the back of neck raise and chills race down my spine. Why does that happen when he speaks to me? Can I speak too?

"W-who are you?" my voice cracks, but it's there. So I can speak. Finally, one of my questions is answered, but there are so many others, I fear they may never be answered. The man who stands above me smiles. He has brown hair and greeny- browny eyes... what's the word for that? Hazel. Something in the depths of my mind answers. He has hazel eyes.

"My name is Arran," he replies, gently pulling my hair away from my face. It's the first time that I notice my hair. It's black, jet black. I stare at it curiously, which seems to catch Arran's attention.

"Your eyes are green too," he says. I stare at him, surprised. I have green eyes? I wonder... do I have a name?

"Your name is Arran, but... do I have a name?" I tentatively ask. Arran frowns for a moment, and I feel deflated. Maybe I don't have one after all. He seems to consider his answer before replying.

"You used too. But when I erased your memories, you forgot. I don't want to tell you what it used to be, for fear that it might bring back all those painful memories," he explains grimacing as he thinks of all the pain I used to be in. I cock my head to one side.

"I was in pain?" I ask. Arran nods sadly, gently caressing my cheek with the back of his hand. For some reason, this gesture offers me no comfort at all, but I don't say that. It would be unkind, wouldn't it?

"Yes, you were. When you were little, some people did bad things to you. Even after that, life was cruel to you. The boy you fell in love with rejected your feelings. I found you and kept you safe, but the pain was to much for you. So I took it away," he says. My eyes widen. He did that for me?

"Th-thank you," I stutter. "But why?" He blinks, as though the answers obvious.

"Because, I love you."

***

The throne room was dark, so dark. The only light was cold, blue fire in a fireplace by the wall. To say that I wasn't slightly intimidated would be completely untrue, but it's Arran. How bad could it be?

Earlier, he'd filled me in on what was going on. Our world, Celestia, had been taken over by rich and greedy monarchs who wanted power for themselves. He said that he and his friends, named the Cursed in an attempt to demonize them, fights for justice and the restoration of a free Celestia. He said that I was one of their greatest warriors, but I was seriously injured, which is why my back hurts. He said that because he loved me, he wanted me to live a life of peace, by his side, not the constant nightmares he said I'd been having.

In a way, I'm glad he did this. It would've been at great personal cost to him. Having the person you love completely forgetting who you are is not a desirable fate, but by making me forget, he ensured that I was happy. He must really love me to do something so selfless. If I loved someone as much as he loved me, I don't think I could bare to do the same thing. You may notice that I don't talk about him like I love him, and, truthfully, I don't think I do. Yet. He's still in love with the girl I used to be, the one who remembered him. But I'm not her anymore, and I honestly don't really know him, but that'll pass, right?

But, no matter how many times I tell myself that, I can't help but feel that being around him is wrong. I can't quite explain it, but I feel unsettled, like I don't belong with him. Or, strangely, like I hate him.

"How are you, my darling?" Arran asks, his hands on my shoulders. I jump, slightly startled, but nod and smile all the same.

"G-good," I reply shakily. Arran smiles back at me.

"That's good, because there's something I need you to do," he whispers in my ear. I bite my lip, trying to ignore the shivers.

"What?"

"I know I said that I didn't want you be involved with the cause anymore, but you're the only one who can help. You see, you have a gift. I won't tell you what it is, but we need you to use it. i'll show you how," He offers, and all I can do is nod. What harm could it do?

Arran's smile grows wider. "Bring him in," he shouts to two guards by the doors. They haul in a person, a young man actually. He's crying and begging and shouting, but when he sees me, he stops.

"TRAITOR!" he screeches. "You're a traitor!" I flinch and take a step back. What could he mean by that? How did I betray him?

"This is one the enemy's soldiers. We need the information he has. Your gift can get him to talk," Arran tells me. I stare at the man curiously. He doesn't look evil. He looks... average. But what could it hurt to get him to talk? Instead, of saying anything, I simply nod.

"Place your hands on his shoulders. You should be able to feel his energy, and when you do, take it," Arran instructs. I do as he says, staring into the man's eyes. They're blue. So blue and so full of life. Why do I get the feeling that what I'm doing is wrong?

I concentrate on finding his energy. It sizzles through him, breathing life into his body, sustaining him, keeping him here. And then I take it. That's when the screaming starts.

"No! Please! Please! Make it stop, make it stop!" He screams. I pull my hands away from him, startled. I stare at my hands, half expecting to see blood, but they're nice and clean. I don't feel clean though.

"Tell us where the camps are, and this can all stop," Arran says to him. his voice is different. It's hard and steely. The man in front of me shivers, but shakes his head. Arran tips his head towards me. "Again."

My hands shake, but I oblige. Why wouldn't I? After all Arran has done for me, I feel as if I should be paying him back. The screaming and the pleading starts again. It fills my head, making black dots dance across my vision, but I keep going.

"I'll tell you!" The man screams. Gratefully, I pull away, wanting nothing more than to curl up on the floor.

"T-there's one near Mount Restless in Vesuvius, and another in Emerald, in Blackwood forest. They're training camps," the man finishes. Arran smiles triumphantly, and I think it's all over. But I'm wrong. Instead, he throws a ball of fire at the poor man. A pile of cinders is all that remains.

"Clean that up," Arran orders dismissively. He scoops me up in his arms and works to our room, running his fingers through his hair and telling me how well I did. It all sounds like a blue to me. All I feel is confusion and fear.