The Anima [completed]

15.

15.

So what really made me angry?

Was I angry that they had taken me from my home? It was hard to decipher. Books and movies written about these situations don't explain the attachment someone can form to such a spectacular place. It made me feel guilty for not being more upset, but I truly could not form such negative strong emotions to the place. However, I could muster them for the people.

The King. The Duchess. The Prince.

My fists clenched just thinking about the young man and the entire world of questions I found in his eyes. I was sick and tired of being lied to, because I felt like I was being cheated out of information that was rightfully mine. I didn't know where this strange possessiveness came from; I just knew I'd never intentionally destroy the First Plane like those terrible visions had shown me. It was far too of a beautiful and spectacular place, rich with life to destroy so heartlessly.

My thoughts had consumed time; I was tapped on the upper thigh by a short Brownie with green hair and a small nose that look like it had been bashed in by a hammer. He pointed to the stage, elevated above the party below by a foggy mass of Glamour. My fists shook with anticipation. It was strange; I was scared to get angry; I didn't know why it was so important to the plan. But if I didn't get angry, really angry, I feared I would be the reason we failed, signing my own death certificate.

But when I opened my mouth and began to sing, a monster of frequencies escaped my throat and even I was unsure what exactly had escaped. Sounds flowed into each other, creating a dark melody that swept across the crowd and encapsulated all the Fae. Their bodies grinded against one another, eyes closed, lost in the music I was producing without thought. For a while, I got lost in it too. My hips swayed, my arms outstretched and my throat humming with the warm breath that flowed from it in constant soothing waves.

And then the anger came. Surging from the pit of my stomach was a convulsing mass of pain and frustration, tangled and built up from the time spent away from my family and away from the real world. This heat tangled with my voice and produced a wild and unkind passion. I thought of the possibility I would never return to see my parents, of missing my sister sixteenth birthday, or her graduation and wedding. I thought of missing watching her grow old, all because I was chosen by a man both cruel and unworthy of the fantastical kingdom he was given. And that made me angry.

I was angry that I allowed myself to grow so attached to a place that would inevitably chew me up and spit me out. However a part of me resented only the King, for all other creatures, the ones I had been told to fear, were incredible and magnificent. Even Lucius, a man who toyed with me using an image of a dead cat, had a kind side I knew existed: a side that was more connected to this world than to his own ego. But the King was malicious in ways only psychopaths could understand; destroying my best friend Lucas, taking every last bit of what was once human and casting it aside. Lucas, the friend who I had believed was dead, was worse than dead, he was gone. Completely gone, because of the monster growing on the brain of the leader of this Plane.

My eyes casted over the Fae in the crowd and my eyes found Alvar, perched on the branch of a high tree, watching me intently. It was only then I noticed the trees were swaying violently, the clouds above swirling around the clearing as if centred at the very spot. As my anger continued to boil and the words poured from my mouth, the thunder began to groan. My hair whipped across my face and the Fae below began to screech. I could see their mouths moving, but only my voice could be heard in the cyclone of wind, carried by Glamour. I smiled through the chaos, a warm shiver passing through my blood. Nature had met my anger with a response of its own. Suddenly, when a thunder clapped, a bolt shot down and struck the centre of the clearing. The Fae scattered, and finally my mouth shut, as if it had finished its piece. In the distance, a large mass of cloaked Fae ushered the King and Duchess back to the palace. I chuckled with mock pity. Cowards never truly escape.