MagiStream

"I...I don't..." Laura stammered, begging to be excused. "I don't want to stay up late. I'm kind of tired."

He laughed it off, like a joke rather than a lie. "That's silly. You can go for days without sleeping, I've seen it. Come on, let's go play with the others." His small, delicate hands reached out for hers.

All he touched was ice.

When the boy pulled back, his fingers were crackled and white, like crystals packed in the snow. Beautiful horror. She was caught in a trance, staring, gazing at them with a mind cold and blurred. The silence that fell then was like the darkest night without a moon.

Until Terin looked up at her, speechless, yet his eyes broke the silence with a thousand screaming questions. Now he was lost, just like her.

Laura shoved him aside and ran into her house, clutching the arm that held the egg. She did not want to look at the egg, she did not want to look at her hand, she did not want to look at him, she did not want to look at anybody or anywhere. The panels of the floor trembled as the child tottered on the stairs like a drunkard.

The little girl breathed and breathed and breathed, but each puff of air seared her lungs. Her room was shabby and dark, for light rarely graced her presence, yet today she flung the egg onto her blankets and pulled the curtains free. The fabric brushed across her face and scattered the tears. At last, as the fireworks lit up the sky and the stars flared, she sat down on the hard wood and looked down at herself.

Her shirt was turned to ice. With a wavering left hand, Laura took hold of her sleeve and, with a light touch, crushed it into flakes.

Then, she raised her right hand and turned it in the air, watching as it glittered with the lights of the outdoors. It refused to move, caught in the posture of the egg's cradle.

But the worst part was that she could see

right

through

it.

With a strangled sob, Laura put her head against the floor, mourning for a hand that had once been hers.

She never wanted this. She never asked for this.

The icy cast that embraced her arm, studded with tears, swallowed the soul from within her. She turned away with lidded eyes; her will collapsed into ashes. The girl thought of screaming, shrieking, pounding the cold clear thing against the walls until it disappeared into shards, driven by the purest form of fear...Yet she couldn't, for the sea she drowned in was not filled with terror...but despair.

Her mother had taught her despair, and reminded her of it daily, but this...this was, perhaps, its truest, deepest form. For the first time, Laura wished she was dead. The very insanity of that thought gave her solace.

The child curled up on the splintery floor and moaned, horrified by herself, until the pitiful sounds were swept into silence. Her hand's sleek sheen caught the smattering of fireworks above. The shadows on her face were set alight with gold, blue, and green.

As the last trickle of tears fell, Laura buried her head in her knees. She closed her eyes and took her first steady breath. The egg that had fallen from her grasp lay on her bed, wrapped in crystallized sheets. It's dark spikes glinted.

She peeked at it with a sunken eye.

Hello, it whispered. You didn't forget me.

"No," the girl breathed, then clutched her head with blurred fingers. Nobody was talking. Nobody was talking. Nobody was talking.

Of course you didn't. Did you forget him, then?

"No." Laura's words hissed through clenched teeth. "Never."

The egg was satisfied. Good. Very good, it said. Don't give up now.

A final tear slid down her cheek. "Okay," she whimpered. Be quiet. Please, please, be quiet.

Then the voice fell silent, and so did she.

...

A white flare wrapped around the void.

Slender ice statues, blooming under the sun.

She looked behind her and saw golden eyes, piercing her own. Her skin flaked away to reveal water, wrathful water, that swirled forth into nothing.

The golden eyes merged into one.

Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me heaven. Give me you. Give me you. Give me you. Give me you. Give me you.

She screamed.

There was nothing. Nothing at all. No color, no life, nor sound. No heaven. She wanted to close her eyes, yet she had none to close.

Her essence spread across the absence and origin of all.

And then, suddenly, the pressure around her neck coiled into a noose, and air rushed into her lungs. She was pulled up, up, higher, highest, until the nothing burst free from her soul and she could see the sky again, a vast land of everblue -

...

"Wake up!" A harsh voice spat. Laura gasped, choked, her body writhing across the floor. Her hands reached up instinctively, searching for the thick nails biting into her neck. She gazed upward and saw the familial face of a woman. Her mother.

She jerked up at the sight and coughed violently, recalling last night's events. The blood that rushed into her head nearly made her fall again.

"You're a complete mess," her guardian said, releasing her grip. The little girl sat up with her frozen hand hidden carefully beneath her thighs. She coughed once more, fixed her expression, and straightened her back, trying to look recovered. It was a half-baked attempt, and her mother saw it. She folded her arms and looked her up and down.

Laura flinched, preparing for the worst.

"Your shirt is ragged and covered with dirt," the woman began. "Your hair is filthy and so is the room, thanks to that open window. It's even colder than last eve in here." She kicked her daughter's hand with a pointed shoe. "Whatever you did last night with the other children, it will most certainly not go unpunished. And that sleeve of your shirt is tattered. You look absolutely unruly and foolish."

With a trembling heart, Laura nodded. She didn't dare rub the new bruise painted across her fingers.

Her mother turned around with a contemptuous glance. "No breakfast or lunch for you, since you slept in anyway. And get that rock off your bed. I don't plan on washing those sheets again." She walked down the stairs, her elegant tail of hair waving behind her.

The girl flashed a look at her bed covers. Not once had they ever been cleaned, yet the icy layers gave the illusion of pristine condition. Luckily, the sun's rays left the egg in the shadows; it looked like a mottled old stone from afar, despite the spikes and scales.

"There's a list of your chores on the table downstairs," the woman continued, her voice fading slowly. "as well as some gold. And remember, if you use it for your own selfish little whims..."

"...There won't be any dinner for you tonight," Laura murmured under her breath. Somewhere below, the front door swung open and slammed shut.

She stood and looked around, lost in the stupor of yesterday's luminous turmoil. Sunlight dappled her room's frigid walls and cut her eyes with vivid gold. Her mind recoiled from the glow. Shielding her eyes with her hand of glaze, she reached over and pulled the curtains closed.

Good morning, the egg said from behind.

"Didn't...didn't forget you," she mumbled, taking heavy steps towards her dresser. Its contents were sparse and dull; several wool sweaters for the winter and a few plain shirts. The bottom drawers held a longer pair of leathery pants. She tossed the thickest top over her shoulder and carefully removed her frozen shirt, shivering as the chips of fabric traced her shoulders.

I never doubted it.

Her crystal hand nudged the corner of the dresser. Laura whipped around, startled, just in time to see the pine swallowed by frost, as if angel dust had fallen onto the edge. She swallowed and winced as the saliva burned her throat.

Her hand was a strange sight in the daylight; almost like a mirage, although the girl remembered the chills and knew better. It was a perfect sculpture of glacial craft, smooth as glass, alluringly translucent. All trace of bone, blood, or skin was lost in the traps of ice. The blue hues of the element began to fade at the wrist, swirling into white crisps, and then pulling back below the elbow to spare the rest of the limb. She stared at it with a faint mix of awe and fear.

Laura turned away and bit her lip. She couldn't go outside like this.

As the hints of an idea sprung forth, the girl took a cloth from the dresser and pressed it against the frozen corner of pine. The frost crackled, yet refused to envelop the fabric.

She took a deep breath and, with the steadiest fingers she could muster, wrapped the worn shirt around her hand - careful not to touch the ice itself. The shirt turned white immediately at the touch and froze in place.

Then, she took her other hand and pressed it against the frozen cloth. Her eyes closed, bracing for the chill that would spread across her blood-flowing fingers.

Nothing happened.

Laura breathed a sigh of relief. Her hand could freeze things, the egg could freeze things...and that was all. The objects they froze could not spread to others. With the white shirt wrapped around her hand, it would - hopefully - trick the villagers as a stiff, bandaged cast.

Before going down the stairs, she took hold of the egg and stuffed it in her pillowcase. Did you have any sweet dreams? it asked quietly.

Laura was already rushing to the kitchen on swift soles, not amenable enough to reply. As her mother had promised, a wrinkled white note lay on the table covered tip to tip in cursive lettering.

- Buy butter, watermelon, avocado, steak (no bone), wine at the market
- Clean the kitchen floor
- Sweep rooms upstairs except mine
- Pick up shipment at Remy's Inn

There were only four chores jotted down, but the last one sharpened her breath as she read. Remy's Inn was in another village; not far from the Keep, yet far enough to cause hindrance with the time. Her hopes of an afternoon meal plummeted as if thunderstruck.