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A Tale from The Scattered Shards

   365 days. 8,760 hours. 525,600 minutes. 31,536,000 seconds. That was how long it had been since  Hannah had been “cured”.

   Not healed. 

   No one could heal her. 

   Once a Blood Devil, always a Blood Devil.

   “You can have a seat in here.” The pleasant voice of the Wildling girl said.
Hannah looked up from where she sat on the couch in the healing houses’ sitting room. The blonde girl showed an elderly couple into the waiting room. The couple took one look at Hannah, and their faces darkened. They sat in the plush chairs on the other side of the room.

   “One of my parents will be with you shortly.” The girl said to Hannah.

   Hannah gave the girl a tight smile and a nod. It was only when the pain was too great that she dared come to the House of Healing. She pulled down the cuff of her sleeve to hide the round marks in her flesh that still seared with pain.

   Hannah took a deep breath to calm herself.


   The blood-lust of her magic raged in response.

    Her eyes shifted to the old couple. One of them had an open wound. 

   Hannah gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. She was stronger than this. She had a choice. Her magic would NOT rule her.

   But it hurt so much and her magic could give her the strength to ignore the pain.

   She was a Blood Devil.

   A slave to the blood-lust.

   That couple would die if she used her magic.

   Even for this.

   “Hannah.” A Wildling woman called from the door to the sitting room. The woman’s button nose was identical to the girl’s.

   Hannah sighed in relief. She needed out of the healing house. A house of sick and weak prey was the last place she should to be. With stiff movements, she stood. The pain of doing even that much made her gasp.

  “Oh, dear.” The woman came to Hannah’s side and took her by the hand. Cooling relief flowed through Hannah, chasing the pain away.

   The blood-lust subsided and Hannah sagged against the Wildling woman. The absence of pain was such a foreign thing to her, she almost didn’t know how to function without it.

   It was bliss.

   It wouldn’t last.

   She knew it wouldn’t. 

   But even if it was just for that one moment, she could pretend. Pretend that the horrors she’d suffered had never happened. Pretend that she was a normal Elven woman. Pretend that she wasn’t a Blood Devil.

One Year: List
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