It started with a death: my death, to be exact. I didn't expect to live a long, fulfilling life; it wasn't really something that happened to the woman of my family, including myself. My mother didn't live a long life and my grandmother didn't exactly live a fulfilling life- she'd beg to differ though.

My grandmother wasn't someone who was completely sane.

When I was nine, my grandmother was the only family I had left after mother died. I never knew my dad, but in this day and age who did? Though the atmosphere of her creepy cabin in the woods was different from the loud and bustling Manhattan, I loved it as kid. She was a quirky old woman who would talk about the many experiences in her life (some that probably wasn't appropriate for a kid, but that was why I loved her). But the thing I loved most about her is thing I hated when I grew up. Like most kids, I loved Harry Potter; the idea of magic and mythical creatures. Fantasy was a place that I drew into after mother's death, and my grandmother would only encourage it.

See, my grandmother was a witch.

Well, she thought she was. It's not like she went around waving a wand and expelliarmus-ing everything that moved. She created runes and sigils, and had many book of shadows that she made over the years. Most contained healing and protection "spells", though grandmother always did love getting the stray curious hipster, who would ask for fortunes or even a séance, to which she would scare the living daylights out of, and charge a ridiculous amount for, something I would always get a laugh out of. Grandmother never dabbled in "dark magic", and always said to never mess with those who have passed. She was always very firm about this, and I never really understood why. The old hag was batty though, so it's not like it completely matters.

After her death, I left everything behind for the loud, dirty city as quickly as possible. I spent most of my days with my grandmother though, and never had a real education, so to say (unless the "magic" lessons count) and I found that I wasn't good at talking to people, much to my embarrassment. It didn't take long to figure things out though. Men practically devoured the whole 'ephemeral witch who has a touch of innocence' spiel, much to my dismay, but who was I to deny a pleasurable night and a warm bed to sleep in at night? Some years later I met a pretty good guy. It wasn't serious, but he offered me a place to stay and we would mess around when we got bored. Not a life I found to be too fulfilling, but grandmother would have definitely thought otherwise.

At twenty three, the day before the four year anniversary of my grandmother's death, I visited her small creepy cabin. I never visited the place, but four was a number grandmother spoke of a lot (she wasn't of Asian descent, but I think she mentioned my grandfather (who I've never met) was a Korean man, but I digress). Plus I mean, she was still my grandmother, I did love the old hag. Despite the lack of upkeep, the cabin looked pretty much the same. Grandmother was never one to tell her Mother Nature where to go. The inside of the house still had all of our things. My guess was that no one wanted to steal from a 'witch', even if she was gone. The small jars filled with herbs and other healing items were covered in dust, just like her tomes. I went through to the back, where her grave was. It wasn't anything fancy, she didn't have a grave. I buried her by the willow tree by myself; I knew she would've preferred to stay by her home, by her "magic". I put the dried flowers by the tree, though i didn't fail to notice the blooming flowers that surrounded her grave spot. Who would've planted those?

I sighed, "Hey grandmother, long time no... See," The wind picked up and the long tree branches started moving around, "I thought I'd visit you on the fourth year. Get it, right? Because four is the death number, or something like that?" I sighed again and glared at her grave, "Looks like I still have your poor sense of humor, you old bat,"

It was quiet. The only sound came from the occasional scurry of an animal and the wind. The skies were getting darker, just like the feeling of the atmosphere. Though I never believed grandmothers magic mumbo jumbo, I remember the things I picked up from her, and like a sixth sense, something told me that the atmosphere-change wasn't her doing. That something wasn't right. "I hope you're doing well. Where ever you are. One with nature or something like that, right?" The skies were getting cloudy and dark, despite it only being three o clock in the middle of July. It wasn't raining and there wasn't any thunder.

It suddenly got very quiet. My ears were ringing from the silence. "Well, grandmother, I'll think of you tomorrow but I really should be going, I mean it is getting pretty dark out," I turned around and quickly walked away from my grandmother's cabin. I was a coward. This feeling wasn't grandmothers, and I wanted nothing to do with it. I ignored the thought that something bad could've happened to grandmother. No. I didn't want anything to do with this magic bull crap. I moved passed it. Grandmothers dead, and besides, the living have no business with the dead.

When I got home, Aiden was starting up the Xbox. "Were you going to start without me," I asked, acting offended.

He shook his head, "How'd it go?"

"It went like any other death-iversery would," I said stiffly. "I talked to a pile of dirt, and looked like a loser doing it. Can we just finish the game? We're almost done right?"

I guess he could sense I didn't want to talk about it, but gave me a pointed look anyways. "Yeah, we just have this last mission and then all the missions are complete,"

I grinned, "Sweet! Now play for me, nerd!"

He scoffed but complied nonetheless. The incident at grandmothers stayed at the back of my head as Aiden controlled the character and I told him what to do. Life here was comfortable. Normal.

When I woke up the next morning, Aiden had already left for work. After getting ready for the day, I sat on the couch, and turned the TV on as I took a gulp of lemonade. The screen was fuzzy, like there wasn't any reception. Which was weird because we had cable. I was able to distinguish some noise coming from the TV but I couldn't understand it. Staring at the screen made me feel uncomfortable for some reason. I texted Aiden, "tv broke," and a couple minutes later he responded.

"did u try turning it off and on again?" I rolled my eyes, but tired it anyways. On the screen was Adam Savage talking about some death ray on Mythbusters.

"fixed it."

He didn't respond but I'm sure he was getting a kick out of it.

When Aiden came home a couple hours later, he made me jolt awake from my nap. "Got some food," he said, lifting a carry out bag. I nodded, thinking about the weird dream I had. There was... grandmother and her tree, but it was all dark or something? I shrugged, but sent good vibes to my crazy dead grandmother anyways. "Can you heat these up? I have to piss really bad," he shoved the containers in my hands as he ran towards the bathroom.

I walked to the microwave and put one container in absentmindedly, thinking of grandmother. "So, how 'bout that game, huh?" Aiden's voice from the bathroom startled me. He continued, "I'm kind of upset we finished it. Guess we'll have to start with Origins again, hm?"

I didn't respond, still dazed as I stared at the microwave. I was dazed... I felt a shove away from the microwave and snapped out of it a second too late. There was a small boom that filled the air and my eyes widened. Aiden came into the kitchen, his tie undone and smiling, "What'd you do this time, klutz?"

I stared as my hand put pressure on my lower stomach, my eyes still wide and my body feeling chillier than usual. My back was still facing him as he saw the microwave spewing smoke, "You... forgot to put the food on a real plate again." His voice was distant. I couldn't speak, but I slowly turned around. Despite the pressure, blood started pouring from my stomach. His eyes were saucers as he ran towards me, his hands putting more pressure on my stomach. "Shit, what did you do? Babe, say something!" He ran to the table where his phone was, and called an ambulance.

I thought of grandmother, of her death four years ago, of mother's death fourteen years ago. I thought of the four weeks it took Aiden and I to beat the new Dragon Age, the four minutes I put the stupid Chinese food in for. Four, four, four, four. It kept repeating in my mind, like a chant. I stared at the floor as slid down the counter; Aiden's voice was muffled under the chanting.

Four, four, four, four.

Magic isn't real, but at that moment, all I wished was for grandmother to fix me the way she did when I would fall over a tree branch and cut my leg on something.

But magic isn't real.

Man oh man, its been ages since I've written actual fanfiction, and I've created a new account and everything too. Right, well I have no idea how this is going to go, I came up with this a couple of hours ago and have a smallest plot outlines for this. I wasn't even sure I wanted this to be a dragon age fanfic… I'm trash though, so what can you do? I'm not sure how good this is tbh, but I mean I can only really get better with practice, right? That being said, I would love any constructive criticism, so long as it is, y'know helpful? But feel free to review, it'd really make a nerds day if you did.