Fragment: : Magic (edited)

For those who have read the first version of the fragment below, I've made some edits to it. And to those reading the fragment for the first time, it's part of my inital efforts to get some writing done. I hope you'll like it.

The fragment is based on my illustrations, the first posted on my 12/24 entry (Drawing Inspiration), and the second shown here.



"There is no spell that exists that can purge your sorrow or anger completely," her mother once told her. "for sorrow and anger are cast by your own soul. Spells cast by the soul dwell in the realm of choice, and choice is the most powerful magic of all."

As her tears fell, she held herself through the dark, rough robes of her new calling, robes she felt weren't completely hers. She wanted to burn them if the wind weren't so cold, and even the thought of them breaking apart in smoke and ember did little to ease her. Towards the east she turned, catching a sweep of torchlights fading like an ebbing tide along the horizon, as the name she loathed burned in her mind.

Vederis. Vederis Bvarqa.

She held her small spellbook in her hands and stared at the leathered cover, feeling the tome's drowning weight despite its size. She protested when her mother had first given it to her, as she was fully aware of every writ and law made by every elder who had sat upon the village throne. It meant glory and death and both and neither, the uncertainty too incomprehensible and undeniably incomparable to her simple dreams of dance.

That was her choice, to dance--to enthrall with tamborin and arpa--and be rewarded by smiles and applause. Why was there no magic, she wondered, that was powerful enough to seal that choice for her? Why have the inspiring rhythms been cruelly replaced by a name?

Yet she knew mother was right. She could just strip herself of her robes, tear her spellbook apart, and run. But she also knew that to do so would deprive her of a far greater freedom--Vederis Bvarga would ensure that. As she tucked her spellbook into the folds of her robes, she convinced herself that her mother was wrong as well.

As she walked back to the tower, she reached into herself to see if her soul was still with her.