May need my mountain retreat where I went to after WoD but hello again :) Don't shoot, I have had hell writing this chapter and God knows it wasn't what I thought it was going to turn out to be but here it is nonetheless. I have excuses but there is no point in reading them...just read the chapter!

To Princess Sammi, I am so sorry and I will reply...eventually :) This chapter can be a present for my lateness and uselessness...

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far and I hope that this chapter doesn't disappoint. More to come as I am sure you guessed and I will very soon be updating other things. Happy reading!

Chapter 6

Constance was caught, lost in the place between waking and sleeping where the world seems like a dream but is just vivid enough to be real. She could hear a voice, as soft as the gentle coo of a morning dove, calling to her through the mist that clouded her thoughts and pulling her into reality. Opening her eyes, she saw the outline of a face inches away from hers though it was blurred into a haze of colours, each blending together without the limitations of complete comprehension. She felt the soft pull of someone tugging at her hand, forcing her to wake when all of her senses were trying to allow her to fall back into a serene sleep.

'Constance!' The loud whisper was filled with such excitement, the energy of an innocent child. As she blinked, her bedroom came into focus and she saw her sister's face beaming back at her. Adelina was just seven years old, her eyes sparkling with the happiness of someone without a care in the world and the fascination of discovery. Her shoulder length hair was a deep rich brown, falling across her face as she leant over the bed shaking Constance lightly to try and force her to get up.

'What is it?' asked Constance groggily, brushing long hair as black as a raven's feathers back behind her ears as she sat up in bed.

'It's the sky, the sky is burning! It's so pretty,' Adelina insisted, her words flowing faster than midsummer rain as her excitement overwhelmed her. She took hold of the purple silk of Constance's sleeve and pulled gently.

'Come on Connie, you'll miss it!'

'All right,' Constance said, knowing it would be easier just to adhere to her sister's imagination. Climbing slowly out of bed, she watched Adelina run to the window and gaze out with a look of awe, as though there was something impossible happening beyond the thin glass.

The room was of no great size though had space enough for the two single beds, a modest dresser and a small desk and chair in the very corner tucked against the wall. One side of the room was so meticulously clean and tidy, without a single personal item surrounding it, that you would not have guessed that a child had ever lived there. The other half of the room was bright and colourful, the wall covered in half finished drawings which also littered the floor; stuffed animals had been scattered across the bed and floor where some lay, dishevelled and forgotten or even missing an arm. The bedroom spoke so much about two sisters; one, the eldest, had only dark dresses folded neatly in a drawer and a stack of books around a writing desk, whereas the other had everything she had ever asked for strewn across the floor. It was not difficult to see that neither girl was happy.

Constance walked over to the window and stood behind Adelina, looking out to see what her sister could; even at just 10 years old, she was far taller than her younger sibling. The sun was just beginning to peek above the horizon, the first dawn's light cascading across the faultless countryside. She could see what Adelina had meant; the sky was red, as though alight with the power of the rising sun and the leaves were glinting, trees of gold relishing the light. It was beautiful, the way the horizon stretched without interruption as far as the eye could see and as another morning began there could be a moment of pure serenity and grace with the colours bright enough to startle the stars into fading.

'What is it Connie?' Adelina questioned struck with such a simple sight, though one she had never before appreciated.

'It's the sun coming up,' explained Constance, 'it happens every morning before we wake.'

'It's so beautiful,' the younger girl whispered softly. Constance nodded.

'That it is.'

They watched the sun rise up high into the sky together, Adelina staring almost without blinking as if she was watching a once in a life time opportunity. In time, the sun's light was defeated by a mist of white cloud and the brightly coloured sky faded to the pale blue of every day. Constance watched Adelina's face fall.

'Where did it go?' she asked, still staring as if in the hope that the beauty she had witnessed would come back.

'Just behind a cloud,' Constance told her, 'don't worry.'

'But...but,' stuttered Adelina, turning to Constance with her eyes swimming with tears, 'it's not pretty any more. The colours – where did the colours go?

'They are only there for a short time, but they'll be back tomorrow morning and every morning after that. We can watch it again,' Constance assured her reaching her hand out to take Adelina's, though she pulled away as though in dismay.

'No,' she insisted loudly, 'no I want to see them now. Bring them back!'

'Calm down Adelina,' Constance tried, her voice as soft and gentle as she could manage, 'I can't bring them back. It happens every day, you can see them tomorrow!' She took hold of her sister's arm lightly, though Constance knew as she looked into her eyes what was going to happen.

'NO!' Adelina screamed, tearing herself from Constance's grip and running to her bed, 'NO, IT ISN'T FAIR, NO!' She took the covers from her bed and threw them to the floor, tearing her pictures from the wall with vigour as she became lost in her own anger. Constance ran to her, placing her arms around Adelina's waist and picking her up, shouting and kicking, as tears stung her eyes.

'Stop it Adelina, you're going to hurt yourself,' Constance warned her, before setting her down on the ground.

The young girl turned to her older sister, her once sparkling eyes aflame with violent anger and she took a moment to think, breathing deeply. It was as if another person was controlling her, someone using her as a puppet and taking command of her body. Adelina took her fist and hit Constance hard around the face, startling her so that she dropped to her knees on the floor. In a fit of rage, she began thrashing around, trying to hit her sister again and again though Constance caught hold of her fists and pulled her into an embrace.

It took time but she quietened, sobbing feebly into Constance's shoulder. Picking Adelina up, Constance walked over to the window and raised her right hand. Adhering to her command, the sun reappeared from behind the cloud and retreated to the point below the horizon where the sky was ablaze once more and the bright morning retired back into the first light of dawn. Catching her reflection, she could see her bruised face pale but with blood dripping from a cut to her forehead; she looked away, refusing to accept it.

'See,' Constance whispered as she went and sat on Adelina's baron bed, 'they came back, just for you.' Reappearing from where she had been buried, her hair plastered across her face, Adelina looked around at the window. She smiled, the calm breaking what had been one of many great storms and she turned around to watch the sun rise once more.

Constance sat for hours with Adelina resting her head in her lap as she watched the sun rise again and again, stroking her hair gently as tears rolled silently down her face. Each time it disappeared behind the clouds, she would feel her sister's muscles become tense and Constance would raise her hand once more to instruct the sun to rise again. It was a long time before she felt Adelina's breathing become slow and she could know that she was finally asleep; only then could she allow the sun to rise high into the sky for the final time that morning.

It was only when time was once again in order that Constance's mother poked her head around the door. Her hair was as dark as Constance's, though it was marred with flecks of grey and her eyes were soft with feigned understanding; she would never know the extent of the truths she forced herself to deny.

'Are you all right?' she asked in a hushed tone, 'I heard shouting.'

'It's fine...she's fine now,' Constance assured her mother, without turning her head to reveal that shouting had been the least of her worries. There was so much more to be said, so many things which both of them knew but could not dare to admit; things left unspoken in the household were buried in the sand, the truth that no-one cared to admit. Adelina wasn't well, and only one young girl was left with the responsibility.

'Anyway,' Constance's mother said, eventually breaking the awkward silence, 'I have to get to work. Will you be okay?' Constance nodded, a lie which needed no words to accompany it. Her mother was halfway out of the door when she doubled back, her head once more appearing around the bedroom door.

'Sorry darling, almost forgot...Happy birthday!'

With that she left, a parting gesture as fake and hollow as the smile she wore and Constance was left with Adelina in her lap; 10 years old and she was left to pick up the pieces. She lifted her sister gently and placed her in the middle of the bed, pulling the dishevelled covers over her sleeping body. Kissing her lightly on the head, Constance wished her sweet dreams and went back to her own bed where she sat, knees tucked to her chest, and cried until her eyes could cry no more.

Her cheek burned and her bruised arms ached, the tear which fell from her eyes marrying with the blood which had dried from what she feared to be a broken nose; she had not been able to find the concentration to fix it with magic, simply letting the ruby diamonds fall across her porcelain skin. Each silent tear was a moment of her life that she had missed because of a thousand things, and no matter how many times Constance told herself that she loved Adelina and would do anything for her, there was still part of her which had to ask the question:

Why does it have to be me?

Xxx

Constance appeared in her room, stumbling feebly like a baby deer first trying to stand and falling hard against the cold stone. She managed, with great difficulty, to hold onto the wall and moved over to the window, gripping the windowsill with a desperation which disgusted her. She had bid Amelia a hurried goodnight, having given away more than she had ever thought it her right to give and resenting the whispered comforts which would have surely followed had she stayed.

Adelina had always been her secret, something only she knew about and someone who, she thought, no-one would ever discover. It was not altogether that she was ashamed of her sister, as despite everything that had happened in her childhood she had always loved Adelina; no, it was the painful memories which rose even at the mention of her name. To Constance, Adelina was her gravest error of judgement and she felt truly that had she done things differently she would still be alive.

She remembered countless nights when she had put her sister to bed and sat by candlelight in the corner reading books and studying for a future she dared to hope for. Constance had always seen her place as by Adelina's side, caring for her when nobody else could find the strength or patience; reading and practising the magic which already came naturally was just a simple escape when night finally fell and all was quiet.

It was not until she was thirteen, on a day when her mother had taken Adelina to the park on one of her quieter days that she had even thought of a different vision for her future. Constance sat in the garden which overlooked unspoiled countryside, her hair being gently tugged by the wind on a calm spring day. The trees rustled in the breeze by a lake of deep murky blue with rings tainting its surface with unquiet; nature was moving as the Earth hurtled through space, ever changing life which moved on even as others' lives fell apart.

Constance's father, Edward Hardbroom, stood leaning against the open doorway watching his daughter with a warm smile across his face. He was kind and loving, the picture of a perfect father; unfortunately life is never rewarding to the best of men. Edward's daughters meant the world to him. They were the reason he lived and breathed, his excuse for waking on a morning, yet he barely ever got to see them.

Illness is something which nobody deserves, yet always seems to ravish what could have been the most fulfilled of lives. Edward had dreamt his entire life of having a family, and when his two beautiful daughters had been born his heart felt full to the point of bursting with joy so powerful he felt that he could have flown like a bird through the sky. For a while his family had been perfect, idyllic even; and then it had gone so terribly wrong.

At once, he had known that Constance was gifted. From birth she was quiet but clever, showing her first signs of magical ability mere moments after the nurse placed her in his arms. She needed no encouragement, not books nor someone to show her how to harness her power; by the age of two she could already levitate objects at will without the need for words and transform small objects into butterflies.

Adelina was different from her elder sister, a miracle born at the stroke of midnight. As he had watched his wife struggle, in pain as their daughter became trapped in the tangled umbilical cord, he had been sure that they would lose her. Constance, who had been waiting outside, walked in slowly and silently to see her mother screaming in pain; she had not even flinched. Edward had watched in muted awe as the three year old walked over to her mother and took her hand, muttering a few well chosen words beneath her breath; two minutes later, Adelina was born. From then on, Constance had formed a protective bond with her sister which, despite everything, had stayed strong.

But Adelina was not a normal child. Her brain had been starved of oxygen when she became tangled in the cord, unable to breathe for a fraction too long; a baby that never should have lived. Most of the time she was the perfect daughter, happy and cheerful without a care in the world, but there were times when she became a different girl, times of violence and fear. She was not the brightest of children, kept out of school for her tendency to become frustrated when she could not grasp even the simplest of concepts; so Constance looked after her, caring for her from a very young age yet still keeping up with work sent to her by the Witch's Guild on special recommendation.

Edward hated to see his daughter, from the age of four, having to become a mother to her younger sister. The truth was that illness, one which would take away his perfect family life, had hit him when his second daughter was only five months old. As a wizard he worked in the Department for Experimental Magic, testing the effects of absorbing magic to enhance ability. It was safe, or supposed to be, though years after his work had finished he was suffering for it.

His body had reacted badly to the extra magic, attempting to attack what it saw as a foreign and invading force. As a result, his immune system had become too weak to fight off the simplest of diseases and for the past eight years he had spent most of his time behind closed doors to spare his children the pain of watching their father suffer. It was a great burden on his wife, who had found it difficult to deal with Adelina since she was born though had taken a high ranking job at the Guild to support the family; to her it was as much an escape as a need. Edward tried to be part of his daughters' lives but by the time Constance was six and Adelina three, he was forced onto the sidelines to watch as a mere spectator as his children grew. Constance handled it with ease, learning quickly how to calm Adelina and how best to teach her what she needed to know; but Edward's guilt was always there as he watched the strain he was putting on a child who had so much potential.

Watching her now, he knew that he was dying. It could take days, weeks or even years but in the end he knew how it was going to be and he did not know what time he had left. Edward looked on as Constance raised her hands to the sky, preparing to cast her great magic. At her command the wind stopped and the trees fell silent, the lake becoming as still as a sheet of glass. The clouds in the sky faded to nothing, allowing the sun to shine through unhindered and the deep water to sparkle a bright sapphire blue in the light. She moved her fingers and a flock of birds which had been nesting flew from the tree, dancing in the air for a moment before soaring into the sky.

Though simple, Edward knew this level of magic to be unprecedented for a child so young. Commanding nature was one of the most difficult and dangerous of magical practices, with so many risks and imbalances to take into consideration; Constance looked as though she had been doing it for a lifetime.

'Hey Con,' Edward said, finally announcing his presence. Constance turned sharply, to see who was invading her private practice; seeing her father, her harsh expression softened. She suppressed the urge to run and embrace him with every fibre of her being, confessing how much she loved him just to make sure that he knew; it wasn't who she was anymore.

Constance had changed, her emotions now under her control after years of seeing such heartbreak unfold before her eyes; she did not need her father to tell her that he was ill, even dying, as she had worked that out many years ago. She could see it, the secret embedded in his eyes like a curse; the girl she had been when she was younger would have cried, begged him not to go, but Constance knew that it would achieve nothing. She had seen too much of real life to wish that what would surely happen could be altered.

Edward came and sat beside his daughter, admiring her handiwork whilst relishing the feeling of fresh air and the simple smell of grass and life he had so missed locked away in his room.

'You have such talent,' he complimented her truthfully, 'you could do great things.'

'I don't think so,' answered Constance, humbly yet with the conviction of someone who never thought of themselves as anything other than average. Her father looked at her smiling.

'Your mother was always the same,' he told her, 'she could never see how amazing she was either.'

'I still don't know what you mean,' Constance insisted.

'Well let me put it this way: I couldn't do what you are doing now, I never could, and many other fully grown witches and wizards would struggle. Your skill and power already exceeds that of most witches, let alone others your age; with the right training, you could do anything that you wanted to,' he explained.

Constance took a moment to contemplate what she was being told.

'The right training?'

'Yes,' Edward said, 'there are tutors out there who could teach you the things you can't read in books. Are you still doing the work from the Guild?' Constance nodded and looked out over the landscape, leaning back so that her hair fell behind her shoulders. The sun shone on her pale face, revealing a long thin white scar which traced down the side of her cheek to her jaw-line where it would have otherwise been hidden by her hair.

Staring at it for a moment, Edward reached his warm hand and lightly touched the pearly white skin, a shade lighter than the rest of Constance's face. At once, her expression fell to one of seclusion and she pulled away.

'It's nothing,' she muttered quickly and Edward saw her retreat into herself.

'I'm sorry,' Edward confessed, 'you shouldn't have to go through that; I shouldn't put you through that.'

'It is fine. She doesn't mean it, it isn't her fault; sometimes she just...doesn't understand what she's doing,' Constance defended.

'I am the only one she listens to, the only one who can really get through to her. I can't leave her to study witchcraft; that would just be selfish. Mother can't take care of her and she won't like me leaving. It's not really a choice, but I don't mind...really,' Constance lied, almost convincingly.

Edward put an arm around his daughter and pulled her gently into a reluctant hug, though one he could sense that she needed badly, more than she would ever say. He kissed the top of her head and held her close for a moment.

'It isn't wrong to think of yourself once in a while, you can't live your life for other people. Just...think about it.'

The person she had to be wanted nothing more than to tear away from her father and harshly dismiss what he was saying, but she could not bring herself to do so. She cursed her basic instincts, those which kept her close and dared to want something more than the responsibility she was trusted with; she hated that part of her liked the idea too much.

She thought about little else for many weeks, the thoughts she had banished of a future outside of the four walls she had barely left for thirteen years forcing themselves to the forefront of her mind. Constance had never seen herself as gifted or brilliant, not even smarter than average. Adelina too had magical ability, though it mostly pronounced itself in bursts during her aggressive tirades. From time to time she was able to conjure a flower or move objects, though her magic was restricted to what Constance had been able to teach her.

Constance rarely interacted with other children. She never felt the need for companionship, enjoying being alone partly through the routine of spending nights awake and working by herself and partly because it was an escape from the maternal role she took with her sister. She had always assumed that her abilities were no greater than those of others her age, even thinking she was at a disadvantage due to the limited time she had to spend on honing her magical force.

After the conversation with her father Constance started to see herself as a grown witch, working for the Witch's Guild or teaching magic to young students. She had always been fascinated by the skill of potion making, something she had never been able to practice beyond reading, learning the methods and studying the properties of ingredients. Constance knew everything there was to know about magic, though sitting in the corner and casting spells did not feel to her like truly embracing such an art. She had never really realised it but now knowing what she could be, she realised that she was trapped, isolated through the duty she was bound to.

She couldn't blame her father; in truth, these thoughts had always been there, though lying dormant and unspoken. It had only been a matter of time. Constance had never told anyone, but she blamed herself for the way Adelina was. She blamed herself for the restricted life her sister was forced to lead, trying to compensate with some form of justice and closure by caring for her; it would never be enough. It was her moral obligation, to balance the scales for her mistakes and she felt as though she was tied down with this right for her sins. It was impossible for her to have anything more, yet she could not shake the thought; was it so impossible?

Constance had known as soon as she left for the Witch Training College that it wasn't the right decision. It had been her own selfish pursuit for knowledge which had led to the dilemma Mistress Broomhead had given her father, the choice that had to be made and she had known that the consequences would be great. She received the letter which had been sat in her room, a room no larger than a storage cupboard with barely the space to breathe, brewing a draught to tend to her broken ribs.

It was short, a handwritten letter from her mother no more than three lines and the words had blurred as the ink mixed with salty tears. Her father had passed not long after Constance had been accepted into the WTC, and for that at least she was glad; he didn't have to see his family fracture and fall apart within the space of a year. She hadn't cried a single tear, but the punishing guilt had become almost too much to bear. However many times Constance told herself that she had never had a choice, that either way she could not have prevented Adelina's death, she would never believe it. Every time she went to see Mistress Broomhead, late at night for her private tutorials, she almost relished the justice it brought to her; she believed that she deserved it.

Seven years later she graduated from the Witch Training College, far younger than the others who had taken similar courses and with more qualifications than most achieved in a lifetime. Constance took a position teaching potions and lived out what had been the dream of her childhood, but was now her guilty nightmare. Despite the love she had of teaching, of imparting her great knowledge onto others, she could never forgive herself and began to loathe who she was simply because she was still alive. It was her passion, her dream, but she never rose to the heights that she knew she could. Constance knew that she was a powerful witch, possibly one of the most powerful in the country, though she never utilised it; she couldn't bear to.

Xxx

Constance could no longer bear to look out of the window at the sight her sister had longed to see. Another morning was beginning, another day where she had to pretend whilst inside she was screaming at her own existence. She tried walking to her bed, though cursed as she stumbled and had to grab the bedpost to prevent her from falling.

Her mind was a fog, a haze of pain and she felt light headed and as though at any moment she could fall to the ground. She was so tired, so unbearably tired after weeks without a moment to rest her eyes and it was taking its toll without a hint of mercy. Constance knew that she still had to be Miss Hardbroom, the respected deputy headmistress that the girls despised but depended on, and there was only one way to do it.

Nothing had worked so far, no potions or enchantments had aided her suffering or the pain which had become an unrelenting force. She had to resort to the final measure, the only thing which would allow her to carry on. Constance raised her weak arms and began to cast a spell, one which would truly disguise her plight from the rest of the world. It was a veil, like a smokescreen which set her apart from reality by half a step.

She would walk with conviction, speak with confidence and authority as though nothing was wrong; her magic was controlling her, like a puppet on his master's strings, so that to everyone else she would be fine though behind that screen she would be biting down to prevent herself from screaming; even if she did no-one would hear her. It was truly the only way.

The deep red light enveloped her, manipulating her body into a false impression of the woman she was and she had to let an anguished cry escape her lips. It was burning agony, the worst she had felt since those dark days behind the closed doors of the WTC, but it had to be done. With all of the memories of Adelina recurring, it almost felt like punishment and Constance knew beyond any shadow of doubt that she deserved it. As she screamed in the light's first dawn, tears stung her eyes and she realised:

She didn't even have a picture of her.

Xxx

The morning brought dark clouds, the threatening silver colour of a dagger's blade which roared throatily as the wind howled in protest; the oncoming war where nature would surely triumph. Rain began to fall, a gentle wave at first though by the time the castle had woken it became a force of its own pelting cruelly against the ground. The trees of the forest surrounding the castle lost their leaves and branches to the ferocious tempest, but their plight was lost in the mist which hid their suffering from view; hidden in plain sight.

Darkness came despite the sun which was concealed behind the looming clouds, a voice lost to the eclipse of gloom which was gripping the castle and its surroundings. The rain showered the slate roof tiles on the roof with what sounded like bullets, falling so fast that it seemed as if nothing could stop them. The old stone walls seemed to shiver, the cold which had been a stranger since winter permeating the walls and spreading like a parasite through the castle. It was a new type of storm, one which seemed to have purpose and malice intended, and Miss Hardbroom could sense that it was not purely an act of nature.

She was trying hard not to become lost in the furore which had broken out in the castle, with teachers running around to try and seal the doors in fear of flooding and girls running up from the dungeons which was already taking on water. Amelia dipped in and out of the crowd, trying to organise the students whilst managing the staff. She caught Constance's eye with a heaving sigh of relief, knowing that as she was present chaos could never truly take hold; she had to ignore the niggling doubt that all was not as it seemed to be.

'Constance,' she breathed, battling her way to the bewildered deputy's side, 'is there anything that you can do?'

'About the weather? I think not. At the best of times it is a temperamental force but as it is now, with the addition of the Foster's Effect-'

'Yes, yes all right,' Miss Cackle said, cutting her short. 'But what else can we do? Miss Drill is trying to lock away the gym equipment and seal the doors, but nothing seems to be working. The dungeons have already started to flood and the broom shed...' Constance silenced her with a stare. For a second she thought she heard a distant banging on the door, though she presumed it was the wind rattling the wood.

'Let me take care of the technicalities, you and Miss Bat concentrate on sorting the girls out. Get them to use spells to seal their shutters, and keep their belongings away from the windows. Then, ask them to all congregate in the main hall which is least at risk from water damage. There really is no need to panic,' she explained, half rolling her eyes at the anarchy caused by a bout of bad weather. Amelia nodded and, though she paused for a second, as though something was on the tip of her tongue, she left to instruct the girls.

Constance folded her arms and disappeared, materialising in the dungeons where Frank Blossom was trying to find the source of the water which was now up to his thighs. Having pre-empted this, Constance was floating an inch above the water's surface and announced her presence by clearing her throat. Frank turned to her and for a moment his eyes widened in shock.

'Oh it's just you,' he sighed, sounding very relieved.

'Mr Blossom, I believe that your duties may be needed by Miss Drill to spare the all important gym equipment,' Constance informed him with a note of sarcasm hinted in her tone. 'I can sort things out here.'

Frank considered arguing, but he had known Miss Hardbroom too long to want the hassle of an argument he knew that he did not want to have. With a quick nod, he waded to the stairs and made his way out of the dungeons, out of sight. Constance raised her casting fingers and with barely a flick of her wrist the water disappeared, leaving the source of the leak to reveal itself. She barely even had to wiggle her fingers for her magic to seal the leak and everything was quiet once more.

Behind the veil that everyone saw, the true Constance Hardbroom was feeling the weight of her actions. Being forced even to walk was a task in itself; with the responsibility of protecting and securing the school her energy was quickly draining and her aching limbs protested with each step. Each time she cast her magic, it burned her chest with the force of a roaring fire and even returning to the ground brought little relief. She wondered how long she could carry on pretending before she had to give in.

Xxx

Amelia walked quickly down the stairs for what she suspected to be the one thousandth time and was pleasantly surprised to see that most of the girls were either in the hall or walking swiftly but orderly through the corridors. She noted that the sound of the rain seemed more distant, and wondered if Constance had placed a bubble spell to keep the castle from the worst of the damage.

Although she did and would continue to worry about her deputy, she could not deny that she had handled what could have been a crisis with ease. A storm with such a force, the power of a hurricane it seemed, had never before challenged the old building and without her Miss Cackle was sure that they would have been paying for the damage.

Whilst Amelia was leaning against the wall for a moment to catch her breath, Miss Drill appeared from the staffroom with a towel around her neck.

'Looks like we're through the worst of it,' she stated positively. Miss Cackle smiled.

'I should hope so, I'm too old to be doing this on a regular basis!' Imogen returned her smile half heartedly, though her expression turned almost suddenly serious.

'The woman from the Witch's Guild is here, the one delivering some form of documents,' she explained.

'Ah yes, has she dropped them off?' Amelia inquired.

'Not quite,' Imogen started, 'I...she...I think that you should hear for yourself.'

Xxx

When she was sure that the castle would be safe from any form of onslaught that nature could bring, Constance stole a moment to retreat back to the dungeons. On many occasions this had been her hiding place, or at least somewhere she knew that she could go where she would not be disturbed. It would take at least half an hour to organise the students and make sure that nothing had been damaged, and she figured that she had done enough to earn five minutes of solitude.

Sitting at one of the wooden benches, Constance's head fell almost instinctively into her hands; it carried such a weight, a tired throbbing ache which only added to the general pain of living and breathing. She had known what she was doing to her body when she cast the spell over herself earlier that morning, though now she knew what a state her crippled form must be in for it to be this hard.

If this did not work, if she could no longer handle the pain it brought, then the end result did not bear thinking about. She could picture the scene, someone finding her fallen body on the floor whilst she could do nothing but sleep the bittersweet slumber of unconsciousness. Doctors would be called, the whole school whispering her name behind closed doors; they wouldn't find anything wrong.

She had looked, searched her mind and vast knowledge in addition to the books she had on healing and found nothing. It was beyond explanation, beyond comprehension, and it was happening to her without reason. She wanted to believe that some higher power was finally serving her justice for what she did to Adelina, but she did not believe that life was that simple. No, whatever was happening it had purpose hidden behind secrets yet untold and revelations still moving with the shadows. Constance could feel them drawing from her strength, taking her life force with every breath just to spite her; she hadn't the energy to protest anymore, she just wanted to know why.

Hearing another's footsteps on the stairs, Constance lifted her head sharply and adjusted her position to the uncompromising posture others had come to know her for. She was surprised to see Miss Cackle, her face as white as a turtle dove, standing at the foot of the stairs with an almost fearful expression.

'What is it, headmistress?' Constance asked, slightly tentatively. Amelia swallowed and began to explain.

'There is a woman here, someone sent to deliver documents from the Guild.'

'Yes,' urged Constance, frustrated by how the headmistress seemed to insist on dancing around the point she so obviously needed to convey.

'She wants to see you, Constance.'

'Why would she want to talk to me?' Amelia's eyes were bright with surprise and anxiety, something new that Constance had never seen before.

'I can't explain,' she said finally, 'it's better that you see.' Not wanting to waste more time Constance stood up and folded her arms, transporting them both to the corridor outside the staffroom.

'Is she in here?' Constance asked. Amelia nodded. She wondered how Constance would react, preparing for fireworks the likes of which she would most likely never see again.

Constance walked through the door to see the other teachers congregated with a woman standing in a black coat, facing away from her with the hood covering her face from where she was stood. Clearing her throat, Constance declared her presence and the room fell silent, the uncomfortable silence of a funeral's wake.

'I am Constance Hardbroom, deputy headmistress,' she announced with the conviction which was as much of a lie as her feigned interest as to who this woman was.

The hooded woman turned on her heel and lifted her hood, shaking her rich brown hair from her face. She beamed at Constance, a smile the deputy headmistress had seen before. Constance felt ice run through her veins and the rest of the world become void; there were only the two of them left on the planet. Her heart simply stopped, refusing to beat as her mind refused to comprehend what she was seeing. It was impossible, beyond comprehension yet it couldn't have been anyone else. There was no mistaking it, yet images from that day on the bridge called back to her and tried to convince her others.

No...it was her, it had to be though it couldn't...could it?

'Adelina,' the woman said brightly, beaming at Constance, 'Adelina Hardbroom.'

Oooh what a cliffhanger, another one I am afraid :) Will update soon, please let me know what you thought and I hope you enjoyed it!