When people thought of her, they never really pictured her as the epitome of calmness. She was the lightning that scissored through the fabric of the sky, the circumambient thunder that beat in time with your heart and the bullets of rain that ricochet off the ground, leaving bruise like indents in the uneven surface. She was temperamental, impulsive, and uncontrollable, making it unsurprising she was fuming as the words to her assignment alluded her. She hated feeling stuck. She needed to be the air and be free not fined in a classroom writing about the day she came into my magic. It was demeaning and way to fairy-ish for her tastes but according to Professor Shanaya her power sources professor this would make her a stronger witch.
Darcy had completed her's in half an hour. She was quiet and slinked off to her desk to get the assignment over with. She was always always articulate, her writing artistic and emotive; her prose flowed and her word choices expansive- always the creative one. Icy had just finished hers, her writing blunt, precise, and layered with unveiled threat. It was completely her and devoid of the fluid hypnotic language that Darcy favoured.
The silence in the room was grating. She may not have music powers, but she still thrived off sound, especially chaotic jarring sounds that overwhelmed not soothed. The way that Darcy was mediating and Icy was flicking through her magazine was infuriating so without a word she growled and stomped out, knowing they were used to her undulating moods.
Witches leapt out of Stormy's way as she thundered down the halls. Her magic simmering under the surface of her skin and waiting to lash out. Her magic was defiant and proud; completely opposite to the amorphous quality magic is supposed to have. It was as alive as she was and as irritable as its holder, so if a freshman looked at her wrongly… well it was the magics fault.
Eventually she found herself at the end of the hall and waited impatiently for the tower to reconfigure itself into a staircase. She could always fly but that was effort and would be admitting defeat to a tower of all things. Her foot tapped on its own accord and after sending a bolt of crackling lightning into the wall the tower shifted, sensing her irritability, and deciding it best concede to the unpredictable girl. Nodding to herself she sauntered up the stairs, releasing sparks from her hands to release some of her building tension. Once at the top she strode to the edge and precariously threw herself onto it without a care, the immense drop not even phasing the red clad girl. She lay back and rested her back on the wall, pulling out her charred paper and pen.
She took a deep breath and enjoyed the the solidity of the water vapour in the playful air and relished in the open space. She could finally think, finally breath, it was as if everything finally made sense. It was like the say she got her magic.
It was almost comical that the day I got my magic was the brightest day that Mystral had ever had. The sky's fabric was unblemished with clouds, there was no voltage in the air and the rebellious wind was behaving. It was unusual, and completely opposite to the vision most people would have of her magical immersion. They would get flashes of bruised coloured clouds braided together with cuts of lightening slicing through the purplish fabric. They would assume that there would be bullets of rain assaulting the earth and the thunder would be overpowering as jostled with the wind in time with my heartbeat. Unfortunately, this was far from true and my day was just ordinary.
I woke up, barely acknowledged my mother Iris who was the fairy of rainbows and my electricity mage father as I darted out the door. Witches and fairies vaguely interacted, a tacit truce between them as they coexisted. There wasn't friendship per se, more like an acceptance that they both must live together so why bother making it hard.
I was a loner; my only acquaintances were the troubled kids who were forced in the boxing team with me. I was resistant to even join the team when I was 'encouraged' to but soon I found solace in the thwack of each punch and the energy buzzing around. Knowing I had the ring waiting for me got me through the teasing from the students, particularly fairies as my weird hair and unpredictable temperament not appreciated by the student body. It didn't help I was a late bloomer at by the age of 13 everyone else had developed their magic and I still hadn't.
"Her parents are so powerful, why doesn't she have magic?"
"she must just be weak"
"If I was her id be so ashamed"
"Such a loser"
Were all things I heard through the school on the regular. It was humiliating and it made my heart darken. The fairies were the worst, using their magic to hurt me and their words to shatter my esteem. They thought they were perfect in their sparkly outfits and their fluttery wings, but it just sickened me. They were pathetic and with every day of their teasing the more my desire to pluck their wings off grew.
After a workout in the ring I left school, my hands jammed in my pockets and a stony expression on my face. I had my rock music blasting, and I didn't hear them following me.
I heard the whoosh of magic and felt the lightning as it bee lined to me, igniting my skin turning it int an angry red as sheets of flesh fell off my back. It was agony. My nerves were alive. With great courage I grit my teeth and forced myself to meet my attackers face on, my features schooled into a confident smirk as I stared at the three girls.
"Is that all you got? Pathetic" I spat, my smugness deepening at their looks if indigitations.
"Whatever Stormaya, you can't talk you don't even have a drop of magic. You are useless, pathetic and a waste of space. No one even likes you so just do us a favour and drop dead" Aella sneered, her wings fluttering behind her.
Her friends giggled in response and flew off with her, their chorus of giggles lingering. Maybe they were right, I was pathetic. I couldn't even move something through telekinesis. I was weak, spineless and a waste of energy and skin. Tears welled up in my eyes and for the first time I agreed with those girls; I was pathetic.
I groaned as I got to my feet and started aimlessly wandering. The sky was perfect without a cloud to spoil it; completely opposite to me. I was imperfect, the polar opposite to the sky and for once I just wanted to fit in and not stick out like a storm cloud in the blue sky.
I am not sure what changed for me. Perhaps it was my latent magic zapping some sense into me or the self-respect I had clawing its way free. Whatever it was, it yanked me into my senses and instead of playing the victim they cast me as I squared my shoulders and pulled the middle finger at the sky. Who wants to be perfect? I'd rather the imperfect clouds saturated with water, creating an ombre effect as the grey spilled into black any day. The rumbling of thunder and the irregular lightning strikes are superior to the reliable sun, and the pleasant breeze was boring; the tumultuous mischievous windstorm was way better.
Perhaps it was my acceptance but suddenly I felt electricity dancing through my body. The wind cocooned me, and I could feel the water vapour in the air. I could feel the sparks of electricity and hear the distant thunder from a far away province. The wind began to show its childlike excitement and swirl around me, egging me to accept my destiny. I let out an incredulous laugh as I succumbed to the magic, relinquished all control to the weather and let the storm amalgamate with my soul. I was ecstatic as the roles flipped and the imperfections reigned, however I found them more beautiful that the fake pleasantry I was admiring before. It was real, the chaos as necessary as the order and I let out a delirious laugh as let the wind pick me up and impatiently throw me into the air.
I'm not sure how long I flew for but when I landed the storm was over. My parents were ecstatic and accepted me wholeheartedly. My face hurt from the smiling and the lingering ache worsened when I demonstrated my magic the next day at school. Smugness surged through me when I overpowered their gentle breeze with my rambunctious tornado, and I knew then that they would finally leave me alone.
Every day after that I made a point to go play in the storms. I fed it my magic and it enriched it in returned; a symbiotic relationship forming. I got called the queen of storms due to my instinctual relationship with them and people began to say that wherever I was the eye of the storm was.
I'm not sure if that was true but I do know that when the storm accepted me was the day my life began and although the perfect day was ironic, it was the perfect backdrop to let my magic shine.
With a satisfied smirk Stormy shut her book and gazed out. The first signs of rain were beginning to show, and the wind was picking up and try to encourage her to join. She fed the storm her magic, watching it flux before retuning itself with vigour, she felt it send back some energy and she breathed in the power.
Perhaps Shanaya was right, perhaps this wasn't a worthless exercise. Stormy would never admit that to her of course as she had my reputation. It was intriguing and worth considering, however she shelved it and leapt out into the dark chasm below the school. The wind caught her and held her before her magic kicked in and she flew using her own powers. The thought lingered with her as she darted through it, genuine laughter intermingling with the wind as she swooped around. In her mind, the 13-year-old who doubted herself looked up at her, marvelling as the queen of storms immersed herself in her element and left the self- doubts as a distant memory.
I hope you enjoyed the story of how Stormy came into her magic! She is from the world of Mystral which means Northerly wind and is the realm of weather. I wanted to capture why she is so anti fairies- seemingly more aggressively against them than her sisters.
This will be a three-part story, with Icy being next followed by our mistress of illusions. I hope you enjoyed and stay tuned!