Chapter Fourteen

Forms shift, melt and grow again; a scene appears. Upon seeing the memory, she feels almost as if she is back to that day; a day which is etched into her memory, and which she simultaneously attempts to repress.

In front of her there was a small fireplace with a long, comfortable couch before it. She saw the back of a dark brown-haired head: a man was reclining in her sofa.

She spoke, "What are you doing here?"

The man sat up a bit straighter but he didn't yet look around to her, his gaze was fixed on the fire burning in the hearth.

"You know, don't you?"

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, "I wouldn't ask if I knew."

The man chuckled. He moved forward to sit on the couch's edge, his head was bowed down, letting his hair fall to conceal his face. "Apparently you would." He finally stood. He ran a hand through his shoulder-length locks and then turned around.

When she sets eyes on him again after all these years, after repressing what happened that day, she feels something odd in her chest. It is wondrous how well preserved her memories are, and how clearly she can see them with the use of mind-magic; so much more clearly than when she recalls something by herself. She still finds him incredibly attractive; his looks, the way he holds himself, the power he exudes. She wouldn't ever admit it, though.

He approached her slowly, like a snake approaching its prey. She stepped back at the same pace, until her back met the wall.

"What do you want, Thanatos?" Her voice was stern, though her breathing had accelerated. He was close enough to touch her now. She could feel his tendrils of magic, his powerful aura.

He raised his right hand to her cheek, she flinched when he stroked it. "Ah, but you know." His eyes, first fixed on his hand, now raised to look her in the eyes, "Don't you, Sasha?" His voice was a smooth whisper as it caresses her name. She shivered.

"My magic," she answered her own question.

"Yes, your magic, or more specifically: your exact abilities."

She shook her head, "I told you, I won't use that aspect of it, I won't, like you, use darkness."

"Oh, but you will. I want to see it. You are powerful, but you don't use that power you were gifted with."

"I do use it," she countered, "To do good. Unlike you, you murdering bastard." Her eyes were shining with anger and hatred, venom crept in her words.

He chuckled again, "You are beautiful when you are angry." His hand was now covering her entire cheek, his thumb tracing her lips.

Her eyes narrowed at his words.

"You know what I mean by your power," he continued, "I speak of that dark power that resides in you. You know it's there, you can feel it, I know you can, but you are supressing it. You just need to free it."

"I won't."

"So you say, but you are wrong, my dear."

"I am not your 'dear'," she spits out.

He closed in even more, whispering in her ear, "You will be."

He then stepped back again, almost reaching the couch. His dark orbs were still focused on her face. Suddenly he closed his eyes. She frowned in confusion, until she felt what he was doing: he was summoning, gathering, his power.

His arms raised, as if inviting the summoned power to come into him. Eventually, pure magic was buzzing, pulsing, around his form. He opened his eyes again. She was still pressed against the wall and gasped when she saw how his entire eyes had become black, including the eye-white. His voice was deep as he spoke, "I am giving you a choice: experience Darkness – powerful, seductive, delicious – or experience Death – cold and permanent."

That's when he released his magic. She was pressed harshly against the wall, her breath was taken away, her lungs felt like they were collapsing upon themselves. When the effect faded she stepped away from the wall, flinging a wave of rippling, whitish air to him. He easily blocked it, returning a dark red-tinted curse. She only just evaded it by ducking out of the way. The wall now had a big hole; showing her bedroom. White dust fell around her.

She threw a lighter red curse to him, barely grazing him arm, leaving a shallow cut. It continued past him into the fire, where the flames exploded in a red haze. He bared his teeth as he looked up to her, after shielding his eyes from the bright firelight. He held up his hands again, open palms pointing in her direction. A powerful dark grey stream of magic flowed out of them. She was hit hard in her chest. She screamed out in indescribable, horrific agony.

Suddenly something cracked inside of her. She began pushing back the stream, eyes closed, relying entirely on instinct, screaming as she put all her might in returning what he threw in her direction. The stream turned black, slowly but surely.

On his face appeared a wild grin, his dark eyes glinting – the white of his eyes had returned, now that he had released his summoned magic.

He finally broke the connection. She immediately collapsed, breathing harshly, head turned down.

He knelt next to her, his arms came around her shoulders – she didn't object, she wasn't able to. When her breath had calmed a bit she finally looked up; her eyes were entirely black, as his had been. Her voice was hoarse, "What did you do to me."

"I gave you a choice, you picked one of two options."

"I hate you."

"And yet, you can't resist me," he replied with a broad smirk.

She immediately threw him away with her newfound powers: he landed against the back of the couch. Surprised, and pleased, he remained on the floor, reclining against the couch, watching her. Initially, she looked at her hands, seeing them pulse and crackle with energy, her eyes were wide and her breaths came quickly. She then frowned and looked up at him again, remembering what he had just said. She stood up and advanced on him.

"Shut up." She grabbed him by his collar and pushed him against the back of the couch.

He caught her wrist, "Come now, admit it," he smirked.

She was raging with anger, "I thought I told you to shut up!"

With difficulty, she was trying to think, trying to understand this pull she had to him, this attraction to his aura. She attempted to clear her mind – it was fruitless.

Upon coming to this point in her memory, her mind suddenly refuses to cooperate. It blocks the Dark Lord's seeking magic. Subconsciously, she doesn't want to relive this, out of her control, her mind expels him from her memory.

They return to the present. Her head is thumping in pain. She is shivering. Her eyes are closed. She doesn't acknowledge the presence of the irritated wizard at her side.

[To be continued]