This is what started the nightmares. No one ever really knows what the Realm is doing at any one time, and no one has the power to stand up to them either. If you defy the Realm then you’ll no doubt be slaughtered. My entire family, including myself faced this fate just by keeping Helena a secret.
The dreams would get worse every night. I would wake up thrashing around in my bed, the blankets alight, smoke filling the room and billowing under the crack of the door. After a few seconds I would realise what I had done, leap from my room and awaken a startled Helena, dragging her out into the cool night air before harm would befall her.
My worst dream happened when I was fifteen. The memory still haunts me. It was horrible, and the thought of what could have happened brings tears to my eyes. I woke from my nightmare and I couldn’t see anything in my bedroom. A roaring fire surrounded me, and smoke filled the room. I jumped up, screaming for my parents. Of course I wasn’t hurt. I ran to my parent’s bedroom and woke them. They were the only ones who could put the fire out with their own abilities. I ran to Helena’s room, skidded to a halt beside her bed. She was fast asleep – sweating, but still fine. I grabbed her shoulders and shook her awake. Her shrill scream pierced my ears, and I withdrew my hands quickly. When I looked down I saw that my hands had burned through her night gown, and left two red raw and bloody brands on her skin. Three years on she now has two horrible hand-shaped scars upon her shoulders. I feel terrible every time I see them. We couldn’t take her into town to be healed either – for everyone assumed she too was a Fire Mage, and of course; fireproof.
I find it hard to live with myself knowing that I had harmed my only sibling. The thought sickens me.
I could tell that my parents were worried too. I hated that I was doing this to my family. There was already enough stress for everyone, and my out-of-control Power was making things so much worse. Despair gripped me, but I had already decided what needed to be done, and there would be no talking me out of it.
It was a particularly grey afternoon when I decided to break the news to my family.
I slouched into the dining room, my hands buried deep in the pockets of my brown travelling cloak. I had left my rucksack in the hallway. I didn’t want them seeing it right away and beating me to the punch. No one looked up as I entered the room. Our cottage wasn’t large, but there was enough room for the four of us. The kitchen was small, and only featured a long counter opposite a fireplace where a pot hovered and the smell of potato soup emanated into the air. A tiny cupboard held jars of food, and stored some more pots and pans used for cooking. At the opposite end of the room was a small dining table with four wobbly chairs. The front door, barely hanging on by its hinges was close to the dining room. I had just come from the hallway, which led off to the three bedrooms belonging to my parents, my sister and myself. It was small, sometimes a little cramped, and most of the wooden furniture in the house held some kind of scorch marks upon it, courtesy of me, Avalon Redding.
I cleared my throat in the doorway, and only my mother, Anya, looked up from the pot of soup which she was tending to.
“Good morning.” She said eyeing me up and down, obviously wondering why I was dressed for travel.
My father Kenneth grunted his greeting at me without taking his eyes from a piece of parchment in his hand. He was reading something by the look of it, and was completely immersed in whatever it had to say. It looked a bit like a letter. Helena sat at the table with a lump of charcoal, her hands were black and she was drawing figures that somewhat represented people being crushed to death by an avalanche. My mother clucked her tongue impatiently, ignored the sadistic little drawing and put down a steaming bowl of soup in front of Helena and my father. She placed a bowl on the table for herself, and as usual put a fourth bowl on the table in front of my seat. My mother waved her hand in the direction of the fire, and the flames died instantly. I sighed, and this time everyone looked up at me with curious eyes.
My father now noticed what I was wearing; a brown travelling cloak and thick boots along with my usual attire.
“What’s all this?” He gruffed as he waved his hand in my general direction, clearly talking about my clothes.
My mother’s face was calm, it seemed she knew what I was going to say, yet words failed her as she opened her mouth to speak.
“It’s not cold outside today.” Helena observed, discarding the charcoal. Not that cool weather ever affected me; my body temperature was always alarmingly high. Looking at Helena I now saw that her face was covered with thick charcoal lines.
I smiled sadly and nodded, “I know.” My voice was surprisingly steady.
“Are you going somewhere?” My Father inquired, his brow furrowed as he placed the parchment he was holding onto the table top.
I took a deep breath, “I’m leaving.” I told them.
The seconds that followed were far too quiet, and it was several moments before anyone spoke. It appeared to have taken a few seconds to sink in.