just as she was at the height of power, magic coursing through her like a thrum of a tidal wave, her veins glowing gold, they struck. it was midnight, twilight, the witching hour of all things, when she saw them on the horizon with pitchforks and torches.
how cliche, she thought with a foolhardy laugh. from the window of her castle, overlooking the kingdom she built from the ground up, from dust and clay and dirt, she saw them rising and leveling. all of them were full of anger. she never stood for their misunderstanding and dark harbored thoughts, the way they casted out all her brothers and sisters, witches like her. she fought back, kicked up a storm until she became the storm. until she became a voice of hope for some.
but apparently not enough. she desperately looked at the moon for help but she was silent. the silver rays cast down in cold disinterest and she had no choice but to fight on her own.
and fight she did. tooth, nail, claw, fang. she fought with all of it, the inner monster consuming and destroying everything in its wake. including her. her eyes caught a glimpse of who she was in a shard of broken glass, and though it startled her, she did not stop. she didn't think or pull back or even breathe out of rhythm with the monster inside. she just fought.
when it was all said and done, the kingdom was destroyed. all her work at paradise was crumbled around her back to the dust it came from. and the people lived on. and she had nothing.
she was nothing.
her own arrogance murdered the last part of her heart so that all that was left was her body and destruction around her. she watched her own being seize and coil into a beast left to fend for herself in the wild.
and she was terribly scared of being alone.
