P. 1


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Published by Victoria Chen

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Published by: Victoria Chen on Aug 09, 2010
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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My fingers scrambled through my thick silver hair, grabbing at a pain inside my skull that I could not get to.

Sweat beaded my brow as the pain grew worse and a small cry escaped my lips that I had kept pressed tightly together. My whole body was curled up into a small ball, hoping to escape the pain, my blue eyes squeezed shut tight against any light that might harm or make worse the ache in my head. Despite my efforts, I still could not get rid of the ache in my head, and despite my efforts, I could still hear the worried voices around me. “What’s wrong with her? She was fine before.” “It’s the demons in her. She was said to be –” “Hush, now’s not the time to speak of such things.” I looked up, not seeing whoever it was around me. “What demons?” I asked hoarsely. A cool cloth met my skin and I sighed in relief as it seemed to help my head a little as it dabbed across my forehead, cooling down my burning skin. “Hush, child, you will be fine,” a voice said softly. “What demons?” I demanded again, and then groaned as the pain returned, racking the insides of my skull. I forced my eyes open against their will and met the worried brown gaze of the woman who held the cloth against my forehead. “Please, tell me.” She shook her head stubbornly and wiped my eyes with the cool cloth and dipped it into a pot beside her filled with cool water. She wrung out the cloth and pressed it to my head again. “Hush, be still, child. We’ve gone and fetched a healer,” she told me in a calm quiet voice. My eyes slid closed and with a sigh, I let the pain take over. My eyes opened and I found myself lying down in a dark room. Reaching out for something, I grabbed at empty air. Then I realized I couldn’t see my own hand, meaning that it wasn’t dark – I had something across my eyes. Reaching up, I moved aside the piece of black cloth that covered my eyes and then cried out as the light struck my eyes a little too harshly. “That cloth was there for a reason,” a deep bemused voice said somewhere above me. There was a creak of furniture and gentle firm hands helped me sit up. I blinked several times to let my eyes adjust to the light in the room before my vision cleared. I found myself looking at the inside of a room that I did not recognize. Turning, I saw a young man leaning comfortably against a wall, watching me with a blank expression in his face, his green eyes bright and alert, his dark wine-red hair windswept as if he had been out in a gale. “Where am I?” I asked. He smiled. “My home.” “I don’t know you.” He pushed away from the wall and settled on the bed beside me. “That is evident.” I glared at him. “Tell me who you are,” I commanded. “I am who they call, the Healer, but my name is Derian,” he replied. Almost quite suddenly, I felt drained. “What sickness do I have that ails me so?” I asked him with a sigh, leaning back against the hard wood wall. “You have no sickness, Veliara.” I looked up at him. “No sickness?” He nodded. “Your mind is just developing, or rather, your magic is developing.”

“Magic? What magic?” I asked. He smiled. “That is what I hope to find out.”

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