Sci fi/Fantasy image by

Laura Fremmerlid

Strangely there was no fear, only a great sadness. I felt the magic surge around us, saw the power as if by a third eye. I stopped and used my sword to see my burning forehead. A moon sign had appeared, glowing blue. I turned to see that Athina and Ashlynn were touching their own glowing signs. I shook my head, there was no hope. Then there was a feeling of weightlessness. The three of us seemed to be drawn together. Our hands were pulled almost as if puppet stings were attached. We joined hands and strangely, we still cried. I cried because I knew no matter what happened nothing could be saved, nothing, no matter how hard we tried, we were destined to fail. When our hands touched together our magic’s colour enveloped each of us then lifted above our heads, forming a ray of white light. I noticed then that we were almost drawing the power from all the others around us. The magic must have been coming from the Moon itself. I allowed myself a tiny glimmer of hope and sent my all into the magic. Everything I was, everything I could be and had been, all my dreams and hopes, all the happy times, and the sad, everything. I called out, too, for help from any who could give. Suddenly they appeared, all the dead, everyone long dead and knew they were. Then it was as if we were watching ourselves above. Then our mothers were there beside us, smiling. Then I saw the Gods watching, almost approvingly. I knew then what to do, so did Athina and Ashlynn. We touched our rings together, then in a burst of light we brought forth our most powerful comrade. Then we saw what had become of our bodies and our magic. We had become the feeders for a spirit. She glowed white, hair spilling all around, and her eyes bright. “I am Pandora,” she said. -Majal 'Storm' Tyndall

Published More than a year ago

Category Fantasy

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