Sorry for the delay in this chapter, it has been a pig to write and another I am unsure about, so would very much appreciate comments on!

Thanks to those who have reviewed so far, it really does help :) Enjoy the chapter and I will try and update one more before my hols on Monday, if not it may be a while, 10 days, but will 100% certainly update before the end of July (I know, sorry!)

Chapter 14

Amelia Cackle did not know what had woken her at such an hour of the night. She sat up abruptly in her bed, feeling the slickness of perspiration on her forehead and her heart beating relentlessly within her chest. She was alert, blood rushing to her brain and adrenalin coursing through her veins though she could not think of why.

The wooden shutters which covered the window rattled violently in the wind, raging with the truant freedom of a rogue spirit lost in a world where it did not belong, heralded the rise of a mighty storm like a King ascending to his rightful throne. Great gusts of power enthralled the land it surrounded and commanded it to bend at its will, snapping branches from passive trees and laughing as it destroyed the harmony which had existed in nature for so long untouched.

The sky was an endless stretch of unfathomable darkness, a deep jet black which gave no hint of the warmth that it would possess once dawn brought an end to the reign of night and the sun rose triumphantly into the sky. It was the time of night caught between two worlds; a void which offered neither the brightness of day nor the certainty of night in a dark hour where all that the world could do was wait. The Earth appeared to stand still, as though deciding whether to turn once more or fall into the vast expanse of space with those who lived upon it at its mercy.

Something was not at rest; it seemed to Amelia like a disturbance in the natural order of things, a discord hidden beneath a perfect harmony which caused the weather to rise up in furious protest. Rain began to pound at the roof, the sound like fists knocking desperately against the worn tiles.

Magic lingered constantly in the air of such an ancient castle, though now it was like electricity ready to spark at any moment. There was a sense of danger in the air which Amelia could not place, and as she sat wondering why she had woken and listening to the sounds of nature raging around her she knew that she would not sleep again until it was at peace.

Xxx

Constance was floating, her mind a lone vessel bobbing silently on a sea of endless agony. Her mind was no longer at one with her body, escaping from reality to a place where nothing existed and everything was merely an echo of the real world. The pain had refused to cease, every cell in her body burning with the fire of one thousand raging suns as magic was absorbed into her blood stream and coursed through her, a never ending stream of agony. She had allowed her mind to wander; she knew that if she hadn't, then she would have been driven to madness by now.

The only sound which she could hear was a distant cry, her own screams echoing from the body which had been left behind. It hurt her to think of herself, helpless and screaming at the mercy of another; but there was nothing more that she could do. She had no control over herself, no hold over her own body anymore as Mistress Broomhead inflicted her cruel, unyielding punishment.

Her mind suffered the consequences, each second dragging on for one thousand years as the biting pain became all that she knew. She had been freed of the feel of her body, of how her hands had become claws as her muscles spasmed and how she lay doubled over on the bed; all she could sense now was the never ending agony, pain without reprieve until the end of days. For many it would be hell, the impossible torment which was worse than the final release death could provide; for Constance, she simply thought of the one thing she had to hold on to and waited.

Constance could not bear to think of herself as weak. She knew as she listened to the endless echoes of her own screams that she was beyond fighting. Her magic had failed her, blocked by the power of Hecketty Broomhead and made redundant in her useless body. She had always been infallible, the indestructible force who could handle anything. Even as a child, even when Hecketty had pushed her beyond what she thought it was possible to survive, she had made it through and she felt sick at the vulnerable woman she had allowed herself to become. She should not scream, or feel anguish for the pain which seemed be all there was; that girl would have simply waited for it to end and moved on; she didn't know who she was anymore.

Alone with her thoughts for what could have been hours, Constance dared to think of what she left behind in the body lying defenceless in her bedroom. She had tried for days to reject the truth, not even admitting to herself why she could not take the potion that night when it would have solved so many of her problems; she wanted to have this baby. It had never occurred to her before, the thought so far from her usual mindset; she had never imagined that she could ever want a child. It went against everything she had ever thought or felt, but it was true and she wondered if she would lose the chance to embrace it as the night wore slowly on.

She had always assumed that her life would be dedicated to her work, to teaching what she knew to others and nurturing the great power and skill which she had been gifted with; this was an anomaly which never should have happened. As a ward of Mistress Broomhead, Constance had not been permitted to see students outside the classroom, or allowed to divulge in the company of men. She had learned to accept this as a fact, as her life, and had convinced even herself that her dislike of the opposite sex was due to personal decision rather than a forceful hand. She didn't like the thought of her thoughts not being her own, of another woman shaping her mind and telling her how to live; she had simply told herself that she would never fall in love.

Now in this impossible position, cursed to remain in limbo without the knowledge of whether her baby was alive or dead or even if she would wake up, Constance didn't know how to feel. All that she knew was that for some reason, she did not drink the potion which would have ended her pregnancy. She had chosen instead to be selfish, something she had never done before. She had chosen to keep her baby and offer it the chance at life because that was what she wanted, rather than to spare it the dangerous existence it was destined to fulfil.

She wanted the baby in her life, for better or for worse despite the terrible risk she was taking. As her mind drifted deep into the endless chasm of nothing, further away from her dying body, she wondered for a moment if what she was feeling was something which for so long had been beyond her grasp: love.

Xxx

Pacing across her room, Amelia tried hard to concentrate on the niggling feeling which was lying right at the back of her mind, deep within her thoughts; every time she came close, it evaded her perception and was once more a mystery. She caught a glance of herself in the mirror hanging on the wall and could have sworn for a second that she saw a flash, another face in the mirror behind her own, a poor soul calling out for help. Within less than a second, the reflection returned to the one which she saw every day and she dismissed it as what comes with tired eyes.

Had it not been for the magic which he could feel like a powerful force in the air, she would have returned to her bed. She often sensed things beyond what others could, though she conceded more often than not that these were the worries of a caring woman who feared for others even when there was nothing to fear.

Amelia flexed the fingers of her right hand and as she commanded, sparks which shimmered in the dull light like gold dust appeared at her fingertips. Yet despite this, she felt something different; the sparks crackled, more powerful and violent then she had meant to conjure. The headmistress did not want to imagine what this could mean, recalling how the last time she had felt anything similar she had found Constance refusing to awaken.

Shaking dark thoughts from her mind, she dismissed such feared sentiments at once. This magic was different, stronger and more powerful like a force of its own which permeated every part of the air surrounding her.

She heard a noise, the faintest scratching which was almost drowned in the howling roars of the wind. Amelia sourced the sound, listening hard, and came to the door which led from her room into the corridor. She opened it reluctantly, though at first saw only the grey stone of the opposite wall; a soft purr made her look down.

The cat was sleek and black, her soft fur the shimmering colour of silk reflecting the light of the sun. She was standing at the door, marks on the deep mahogany where her claws had pawed at the wood which appeared like scars embedded which held harrowing memories. At first, Amelia assumed that Morgana had simply lost her way and had yearned for companionship, clawing at her door for the attention of another; her eyes told a different story.

She was standing with her back arched and her tail waving majestically in the air as if she was waiting, but it was her eyes that seemed to bear deep into Amelia's soul and try to tell her something. They shone even in the half-light of a candle-lit hallway, the bright colour of fire though with pupils so dark and meaningful that they told a story all of their own. Amelia looked at her for a moment, wondering whether it was more ridiculous to think that a cat was trying to communicate with her or to ignore the instincts telling her that she should listen.

Witches' cats often perceived more than ordinary animals, an impression of their owner's magic being left on their souls as they formed a bond which was not mirrored anywhere else in life. Morgana lowered her head to look deeper into Miss Cackle's eyes before silently bounding around the corner and out of sight; she had done all that she could do.

Amelia stood for a moment, unsure what to make of such an unusual occurrence. Morgana was an independent cat, often moving freely around the castle with no reliance on her mistress; there was no reason for her to come to the headmistress' bedroom that night, and Amelia could not ignore the fact that Morgana was Constance's cat. It could be no coincidence, she did not believe in such a thing, and a warning seemed to flash across her mind.

Xxx

Standing once more in front of Constance's door, Amelia wondered why she had made the decision to come here. She could offer herself no explanation other than it felt right, something to put her mind at ease and to ensure that after a trying day her deputy headmistress was well; a dark feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that was not what she would find.

Reaching her shaking fist out to knock, Amelia was surprised to be thrown back. Something cloaked with invisibility, a barrier of energy, had been placed on the door and pushed her hard back against the wall. The rain fell faster and harder on the roof, mimicking the quickening beat of her heart. Reason told her that Constance had placed the protection herself, a necessary measure to preserve what privacy she could get in such a public place; her heart told her otherwise.

She considered going back to her room. The magic in the air could be a simple side effect of the defensive charms and she heard nothing untoward coming from the room itself; yet she couldn't. She could not leave without knowing for sure that Constance was alright and she would accept the consequences of that decision.

Amelia muttered a spell beneath her breath, removing the barrier of energy with an unnerving ease; it did not feel powerful enough to cause the crackle in the air. Her heart raced as she reached for the doorknob, all of her fears coursing through her head at once like cyanide poisoning her mind with dark thoughts. Despite everything she had feared, everything she had thought that she might see, she was not prepared for the sight which befell her as she opened the door.

Xxx

Hecketty's head snapped around as she heard the door open. She stopped the magic coursing through her fingers and vanished at once as the shadow of the headmistress began to creep through the open door.

The screams which had rattled the air still lingered as Hecketty materialised within the hallowed halls of the Witch Training College, which were as dark and lifeless as she knew her former protégée would now be. She had planned to leave her longer, though knew that by now her point would have been well established. She didn't like the fact that the screaming had been like music to her ears, a sound which she dared to say that enjoyed, but that was the truth. She loved the feeling of ultimate control, to have the power over a life and the decision on whether they were allowed to live; that feeling was what gave her meaning and authority, what struck fear into people's hearts and made her who she was.

Hecketty Broomhead was surprised when she felt faint as she tried to walk to her room, stumbling and grappling for the nearest wall to keep herself steady. She produced sparks at her fingertips, though they were weak and fizzled out like a dying fire burning to nothing. Hecketty realised how much magic she had used upon Constance, the extent of what she had done suddenly becoming clear; yet not a flicker of guilt ghosted across her emotionless face.

She knew that Constance was alive, she could feel it, and as long as she was alive then the plan would go on as set out from before the day Constance was born; it would all be worth it.

Xxx

Constance felt her mind being dragged back to her body, pulled back to suffer as the agony reached its peak; she had though that she could hurt no more, though it soon became apparent that she had been mistaken. Though her eyes were closed, she could feel the magic leave her and the screams seeming to voice themselves from the back of her aching throat die down. She fell, unable to stop herself, toppling from the bed to the floor and felt her head collide with something before everything went dark, a darkness she thought that would never be broken.

Xxx

As soon as the barrier broke and the door swung open, Amelia heard it; the screaming. It was a sound like she had never heard, which made her hair stand on end and her heart freeze in her chest; the sound of true suffering beyond imagination. She watched a silhouette disappear, just catching the look in her eyes before she vanished and knowing at once who was to blame. As her eyes moved to Constance, Amelia froze. She became a sculpture locked in a prison of ice and forced to watch the truly horrific scene unfold.

She had watched as though looking through a pane of glass at something she could not quite reach as Constance screamed in agony, doubled over in pain with her eyes tightly shut. Her body emitted a faint glow, a discerning shimmer as though completely engulfed in magic which was torturing her to the point where she lost all control.

As the silhouette vanished, the glow faded to nothing and Constance was finally released from the torment. She slumped, her muscles relaxing and her body losing any strength it could have retained falling to the floor. Amelia gasped as her head hit the floor hard and Constance lay still, face down on the cold stone. She ran to her, breaking through the barrier which had separated them to collapse at her side. Her mind was a haze of emotion and disbelief. She gently pulled Constance's shoulder until she moved onto her back; her lips were still parted in a silent cry. She could not explain what she had seen, nor did she want to, but she knew who had done it and she cursed her name in anger as hot tears spilled down her cheeks.

Xxx

Kneeling on the floor beside Constance, Amelia tried to think of what to do. She could see the gentle rise and fall of her chest which told her that she was alive, though the dark hair covering her forehead was becoming matted with deep scarlet blood.

'C-Constance?' she tried, tears falling from her eyes. She did not know what she had expected, but as she refused to respond her heart fell deep within her chest and she let out a whimper of anguish; she couldn't go through this again.

Amelia stood and did all that she could think to do, placing her arms beneath Constance's body and lifting her onto the bed. She was light, too light for a woman much taller than she was and carrying a child.

The baby.

As Amelia laid Constance down on the bed, her eyes dared to flit to her deputy's stomach and she had to wonder whether...it was too horrible of a thought for her to bear.

The only question she could think of was why? Had Mistress Broomhead come to punish Constance, to warn her or to kill her? So many things didn't make any sense, all of the answers cloaked in mystery as she stroked Constance's hair and prayed for her, something she had not done in a very long time.

Constance's eyes flickered open. She didn't know quite where she found the strength, her resolve like a thin tree branch bending past its limit in the wind and threatening to snap and splinter at any moment. She saw the teary face of Miss Cackle watching over her, her eyes feeling such things she knew she never could and she felt a pang of guilt; she didn't want anyone to have to cry for her.

She tried to move but her body didn't seem to want to respond. Everything ached as though the magic was still throbbing through her veins, and all she could manage was to move her hand feebly; she couldn't bear it. As Amelia tried to help her, Constance couldn't even look at her; the shame she felt at being so weak was indescribable.

She had never depended on anyone for anything in her life and now as she could barely move it felt like a betrayal, an unforgivable act of treason to who she was and everything that she stood for. Constance felt lost in the world, no longer sure of the place she held within it. She had always been the powerful stoic woman who everyone feared, yet offered the deepest respect for her dexterity and authority. If she wasn't that woman, then who was she? Where did she fit in now, unable to fight the battles which had haunted her since youth and weakened by the emotions which the defenceless child lying with in her provoked?

At that moment she felt worse than she ever had in her life; worse than when she was lying beaten and bleeding on the floor of the Witch Training College, worse than the night her father had sold her to Mistress Broomhead like a possession without value and worse than she had almost lost the child she had now come to crave. She felt worthless, like the shadow of a ghost compared to the person she had once been. Cackle's was the first place that she had felt that she belonged, yet now she felt detached; she didn't belong there anymore.

Anger surged within her like the winds raging outside and she pushed Amelia's hand away, forcing her battered body into sitting position and swinging her legs over the side of the bed, making to stand though she knew that she couldn't. She breathed heavily, each intake of air a great struggle and caused a pain which felt like it could stop her heart every second.

Amelia watched her with sadness in her eyes. Constance would never ask for help, she knew that, but she could not even accept it when she was too tired and pained even to speak. She had so many questions, so many things that she needed to say yet she couldn't find the words, knowing that anything she said would be dismissed before she had a chance to explain.

'Constance,' Amelia asked gently, 'what happened?' Constance looked down at the hands trembling in her lap.

'Nothing happened,' she lied, her flat emotionless voice giving nothing away, 'it was...a nightmare, that's all.' The headmistress waved her arm in the air, causing the candle mounted on the walls to spring to life and cascade their brilliant light across the darkened room; here, Constance had nowhere to hide. She was unmasked and the true extent of her suffering, the things that darkness had concealed, was exposed.

She could no longer hide how her head lolled merely from the effort of keeping it raised, nor how her eyes danced with a vulnerability Amelia had never seen lying there before.

Amelia did not know what Mistress Broomhead had done to her, but she could feel the magic radiating from her body. It was dark magic, magic designed to inflict pain and to cause suffering; she did not want to think what the younger woman had experienced since the last time their eyes had met in the courtyard an age ago.

Reaching a hand to her forehead, Constance tried not to wince as her fingers touched the tender red skin that had swollen and was still oozing blood which ran down the side of her face like the teardrops which would never fall. She touched beneath her nose and found her finger glistening red though staring down, it was as though she could not understand what it meant. Her mind was slow to react, confused and dazed and she felt as though she could sleep for one hundred years, though she wouldn't; she feared that she would never wake up.

'You have to go,' Constance said suddenly.

'I'm not leaving you like this,' Amelia insisted, desperation creeping into her tone.

'I wasn't asking,' Constance told her sternly, the voice which had once carried such authority and certainty cracking like broken glass, 'I am perfectly alright.'

Amelia conjured a white handkerchief and made to wipe the blood which was now covering most of Constance's face, but in a burst of anger the potions mistress pushed her away once more; though she suffered the consequences of her stubborn actions. She cried out, doubling over with a hand across her abdomen as pain took over her body. For a moment, her head was swimming in darkness and everything else melted away but she pulled herself back, refusing to give in as she had done so easily before.

She felt the headmistress' hand on her shoulder and tried to shrug it off, though it was all she could do to stay awake. Constance managed to open her eyes breathing deeply as her heart thudded weakly in her chest, but she knew that she couldn't hold on for much longer. The effort of merely living was becoming too much and though she hated herself for it, there was little else she could do.

'Please,' Amelia begged, tears falling once more down her sodden cheeks, 'I-I can't see you like this, it breaks my heart; just let me help you.'

'I...' Constance breathed trying to find the energy to speak, 'I am f-' The words wouldn't come, such lies stopped by the slowing of her heart. She had to do something, but she didn't know what she could.

She tried to stand though her legs could not hold her up and she buckled, falling gracefully like a dancer into Amelia's arms. The headmistress lay her on the bed and was relieved to see her eyes opening once more, though her skin seemed to have lost all of the colour it had once had and was now the smooth complexion of a china doll.

'Amelia,' Constance whispered, her voice lacking any life and fading until barely a sound remained. The effort it took for words was almost too much, though she had to speak through the pain.

'What is it?' Amelia replied, desperate for answers.

'The desk...' Her eyelids fluttered, threatening to close for what they both knew could be the final time.

Amelia ran to the desk and wondered what it was she was supposed to be looking for. The desk was strewn with papers, essays and reports though nothing which seemed it could be of use. As she began to panic, she noticed a small brown bottle of liquid hiding behind a stack of paperwork and grabbed it, running back to the bedside. She noticed, with fear striking her heart, that every breath Constance took was slow and rattled dangerously. Tipping some of the thick, dark liquid down her throat Amelia hoped for a miracle, for she felt that there was nothing else which she could do.

Xxx

Constance opened her eyes and saw the headmistress sitting on a chair at the side of her; she knew at once that the potion had worked. With newfound strength, she sat up in her bed though she was painfully aware that she would suffer for it later. Constance noticed a dressing on her forehead and how her hair had been tied back away from her face and looked gratefully at Miss Cackle.

'Thank you,' she said simply, but Amelia could see the feelings with which it was meant and smiled weakly.

'What was that potion? I've never seen it before.'

'A very old remedy,' explained Constance, 'it cures anything, any disease or ailment in the world for a few hours, but then the affliction returns and you have to suffer the consequences; it buys time, but not much else.'

'What will you do when it wears off?' inquired Amelia, leaning forward and not bothering to hide the concern in her tone.

'I will have to wait for it to pass,' Constance replied finally, the conversation trailing to silence.

'What happened?' pushed Amelia. Constance looked away, her fingers subconsciously tracing a circle on the back of her hand.

'I know it was her, Mistress Broomhead,' Constance stiffened at the mention of her name; even now it brought her such apprehension that it scared her how much of a hold that woman had over her.

'She...put me in my place,' replied Constance evasively.

'What for?' insisted Amelia angrily, 'what on Earth did you do wrong?' Constance looked at her wishing for the truth to dawn on her so she did not have to say the words.

'Oh God...' whispered Amelia, remembering her earlier concern, 'Constance, the baby.'

'It's fine.'

'How can it be? You were doubled over in pain, she could have-'

'Amelia,' interrupted Constance, her eyes holding a sadness she had not seen in a long time, 'the baby is fine. She...she put a protection spell over the baby so she wouldn't harm it when...There is nothing for you to worry about.'

'Why would she want to hurt you but not the baby? What does it mean?' asked Amelia, her mind a fog of confusion.

Constance sighed. She hadn't wanted to have to admit it, but she had precious little time left before she was incapacitated once more and she was losing the energy to fight.

'She wanted to punish me for thinking about getting rid of the baby. Amelia, it means that she wants my child.' A deadly silence hung in the air, one of knowing and of fear. If Mistress Broomhead wanted the baby, then she would do everything in her power to seize it; they were all in danger.

And then, something Amelia never thought that she would ever see occurred. Constance brought her hands to her head and began to cry, silent tears flowing down her pale cheeks and falling onto her lap.

'I was selfish,' Constance told her, 'I wanted this baby for myself and now I've put it in danger.' Amelia had never seen Constance drop her guard so completely, abandoning her everyday facade in favour of true, raw emotions which had been, for so long, locked away. The headmistress walked over to her and put an arm on her shoulder; for the first time, she did not even stiffen.

'This is not your fault,' reassured Amelia comfortingly.

'I never thought I would ever get the chance,' Constance whispered, revealing something she had only just realised; that this was something she had always wanted.

'Listen to me,' Amelia said assertively, 'I swear to you that I will not let Hecketty Broomhead have your baby. We will put more protection around the school, anything to keep her away and I will do everything that I can to keep you safe. Neither of you are going anywhere.'

Constance looked up at her but could say nothing as fresh tears, tears of hope, fell in place of those of sadness. Deep down she knew that it was not that simple, but for now she would bask in the notion of a positive future and let her harrowing fears, the voice of reason, be silenced and banished. She knew that after tonight she would rediscover the walls which had kept her apart from others and lock away her emotions once more, but for one night at least she could be the person she could have been, held in a mother's arms.

She felt once more like she could belong, not simply as the woman she was but as the woman she could be. Mistress Broomhead had made her into someone she despised, the mirror image of her tutor with no emotions or feelings, no heart to be worn on her sleeve for all to see. As she slipped into unconsciousness, tiredness taking over her weak and feeble body, she dared to believe that she could, one day, be something different and that everything would be alright.

But every silver lining carries with it a dark cloud. Hope, despite its wondrous beauty, is never enough; there is always a fight and one the Constance did not yet know that she would lose, and with it lose everything.

Ooh intriguing cliffhanger methinks?

In case I do not update, a few hints for the next few chapters:

The school discovers the truth, Amelia makes another promise she can't keep and the baby causes more problems...