The Marked One's Demand

The girl wrapped her skins tight around her, the furs rippling along with the draft breezing through the hall. Why he had chosen a meeting place near the outer parts of the castle, she couldn't begin to fathom, but there were times when she sacrificed comfort over what she truly wanted, and for years now, what she truly wanted was him. Tonight might be the night that her affections were to be returned, so she waited patiently in the dark, watching her breath ghost in front of her face.

Her hair glistened with the moonlight ethereally, her slender frame a fragile silhouette against the night's shadows. A passerby would immediately conclude, with prior knowledge, that she was no ordinary witch. There was a blood in her that could be interpreted as a blessing, but more often than not was treated as inferior. The shiny hair and pale skin, the striking features and long limbs, hers was the mix of wizard and Veela blood.

"Elissa."

Her breath hitched, the dark baritone of the voice echoing against her. She turned expectantly, squinting slightly towards one of the alcoves. Out of the shadows came a figure, dressed in inconspicuous robes, and it came towards her swiftly and cautiously, silent as the breeze. Elissa didn't budge an inch.

"You came," the figure breathed. He was a broad young man not much older than her, and her eyes were alight with affection at his presence.

"You asked me to," she muttered, casting her eyes down. She felt warm all over when his hands held onto her arms.

He looked at her with an open expression, his eyes searching and half-lidded, his lips slightly parted. It was his way of conveying how much he meant to her, but at the same time she knew that it was a façade and nothing more. Despite every kind word and deed this young man had shown her, she knew she was a toy, a tool to be used at his expense. But she couldn't pull away, for she was mesmerized with the young man, completely enamored with his charm and subtle manipulations.

"I must ask you another favor," he muttered in a pained manner. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, but one more … I need one more prediction …"

Her eyes instinctively glanced towards his hand, which was clutching at his left forearm. She knew then, and she gasped, pulling away and shaking her head. No, this couldn't be happening. Not him.

"No … oh no, you," her breathing hitched again, this time with sobs threatening to break the surface. She started to shake. "You went through with it? Why? Why! I begged you not to!"

She clutched at herself and weeped, pleading at him with her eyes. He stood stock still and refused to look at her. Time seemed to stretch, his silence louder than her sobs.

"I had no choice … the Dark Lord doesn't leave room for choices." She saw the play of emotions dance across his face before his expression hardened, and he turned his steely gaze at her.

"Why do you need me? Why do you get under my skin so?" she cried silently. Her power was a curse in her community, hence her ostracization. She found great solace in using it, however, and his requests always made her feel like her power wasn't something to be ashamed of. But her ability used for a dark purpose begged at her conscience, and she couldn't relent this time. Not then, not ever. The power to See was a great responsibility to behold, and any word that came out of her mouth during her trance cannot be taken for a joke.

She braced herself. "I will not. I can't do this for you anymore. My … my Sight is not to be used for any purpose that could harm."

She saw him tense, his jaw clenching and his eyes burning. Before she knew it, his wand was out, pointing at him.

"I'm not giving you a choice, Elissa. I give you the name, and you give me the future. If you don't, I'll smite you where you stand, and your redemption would be nothing but a dream you'll be ripped from in death."

oOo

Her voice was not her own, and her magic made the air feel heavy with the burden of time. The young man listened intently for what was to define his next move.

The one who shall vanquish the Dark Lord,
Born to those who thrice defied him,
Shall take the curse upon himself,
And lose the soul which identified him.

Death and debt will bring him back,
In haste she shall ensorcel him,
Without the words to light their path,
They listen to the daughter's hymn.