"Make it stop! Make it stop! Please!" Sofia screamed, gripping onto Zelma's arm as if she were her lifeline. If she'd ever complained about pain. She regretted it now. She didn't know pain. Not like this.
She could feel her body being ripped apart. She could feel the burn, like something had shoved a flaming sword though her chest. She could feel her blood bubble and her lungs ache with every breath. She could feel herself dying. She didn't know who to stop it.
"We're gonna make it stop, we're going to make it stop, I promise." Zelma said, resting Sofia's head on her crossed legs, stroking her head. "Jericho!" she called, the man running in holding something in a bottle.
The room was warded, but what was happening was stronger than them, as the wards did nothing to stop the pain that was shooting though her system. She took deep breaths trying to hold in the pain, as if it were a rugby ball, and she was being tackled from above.
Doctor Voodoo began to sprinkle the things in the bottle around, chanting under his breath. He dug into his pocket, handing Zelma a pencil. She could feel it over-power her will, the pain encompassing her hands, making them shake. Sofia gripped Zelma's arm, so hard she was sure she was cutting off blood flow.
"Here," Zelma said, handing her the pencil. "What am I supposed to do with this?" Sofia coughed. Her throat was raw, but she was doing her best not to scream. "Bite down. It's going to hurt." Zelma said, tightening her grip on her. Sofia sighing, snatching the pencil, sticking it into her mouth.
Doctor Voodoo stepped back, chanting louder. A cold wind rushing into the room, the lights above her flickered dangerously, before they began to brighten. Doctor Voodoo's hands alighting with the same symbolic like lines that came from Doctor Strange's magic, except his was not gold, but an luminous green colour.
Smoke began to drift into the room, Sofia squeezed Zelma's arm. She felt bad. Zelma was probably going to bruise because of her—
Ice plunged into her veins, the burn growing stronger, she could feel it crackle underneath her skin. Her throat was on fire; if she was screaming, she hadn't registered it. The ice was making her boiling blood boil stronger, the ice turned to fire.
"הפעוההרהרפנדזשוון יודזשנעפד!"
The room shook. Another shriek echoing out. The shattered of glass. Her body weighed her down like lead. The smell of smoke, burning her senses. Zelma…Zelma was saying something…calling someone... "Jericho?! You okay?"
The ceiling was glowing, purple lights. She liked purple. The light moved like liquid, so fluid and ethereal, she wasn't to jus out a touch them.
"Zel-" Sofia started, her tongue turned to sandpaper. Familiar black spots doting her vision, the purple lights still alive, but dimming. The cracked light and the purple glows, swaying and swaying above.
But she didn't fight the dark.
She allowed it to swallow her, and she fell into the abyss.
"Then what is your solution?" Clea asked, the stiffness of her posture, lessening slightly. He blinked, almost surprised at the breakthrough his conversation had. A plan. He had one, a crude on at best, but—ice dripped into his veins.
"How do you plan on keeping her sa-Ah!" Clea hissed, gripping her side.
A searing burn shot threw him from his abdomen to his heart, like a fire had been lit and was burning through his organs. The warm pull, turned to a hostile burn, making him stumble slightly. The burn dimmed slightly, flicking into the back of his brain like an itch.
"Did you feel-?" Clea started, looking slightly pale.
"It's Sofia." he said, lumbering over to his table, picking up his phone. The screen displaying fifteen miss-calls and eighteen texts, in the past half an hour alone.
"It can't be, I'm not…I should not be able to feel her magic. It can't b—" Clea continued, her voice for once fading into background noise, while he re-dialled Rintrah's number.
"Rintrah. What happened to Sofia? I-What? Is she—where are you?" Stephen said, leaning over the table, the photo's slipping and sliding onto the floor.
"What happened? Is she okay?" Clea called out, standing behind him, her astral form hovering, bending down, trying to listen to him. "Bring her here now." he said cutting the call, turning to Clea. "It's not good."
Clea stepped back, her face blank for a second, vanishing from view. For a few seconds he just stood there, he expected a lot of things of Clea. He didn't expect that.
"Stephen!" Zelma said, bursting through a door behind him, holding it open for Jericho who came in with Sofia in his arms. He tossed his phone on the table, looking her over. "What happened?"
She was unconscious, looking more like a large doll. Her cheeks were flushed. She was running an unnaturally high fever, so hot that he burned his hands when he touched her forehead. Even unconscious she winced and hissed in pain.
"She just collapsed. And started screaming, and then this like purple energy—"
"She expelled dark dimension magic. She'd somehow brought upon flames of Faltine, without summoning them. Everytime she underwent the pain, more magic expelled from within her. She did her best to contain it, the school had taken the brunt of it, but I'm worried it many have travelled beyond Strange Academy's reach." Jericho interjected.
"We thought it was possession, but—"
"I tried a spell to find the root of the problem, but after I did. Her magic reacted badly, it burned the teacher's practice lab and blew us back and left that—"
He turned her right hand over, an angry red and purple burn from her wrist to the middle of her forearm. It burned hot, that he didn't dare put his hand over it.
"She was unconscious, by then, I—"
"We need to get her upstairs." Stephen said, waving his hand over the door, opening it to the third floor of the Sanctum. "Set her down there, watch her head," he said, gesturing to the small green couch cramped into a corner.
Jericho nodded, transitioning Sofia to the couch, setting her down gently, resting her head on a pillow. He instructed Zelma to clear the middle of the room, pushing papers and trinkets of one of the desks.
Bats poking his head from the under the floor, floating up to him. "Hey, you're back ear—" Bats started, freezing giving the room a once over, from Sofia to Jericho, to Zelma, to him. "What the hell happened?"
"That's what I need to find out." Stephen said, calling to Jericho. "Ward the room, Zelma go to the basement, get me herbs and dittany of crete," he said, Zelma nodding, disappearing down the steps.
Sofia whimpered in pain, shivering. "What's happening to her, Doc?" Bats mumbled, floating to her side, lightly touching his nose against her hand.
"I don't know. This isn't possession, not like ones I've seen." he answered, grabbing a book about the Faltine. It was frighteningly concerning how little he really had on them, despite knowing and marrying.
"I thought it to be a Voodoo doll possession, but they would need a direct to connection between them to Sofia." Jericho said, striding over to him.
"Like hair or blood?" Bats guessed.
"Exactly." Stephen said, flicking though the pages erratically. "If it is Voodoo doll possession, it wouldn't hurt her this much. Sofia's had more protection spells on her than shots."
"But I thought the Clea's spell is fading?" Jericho said quickly. "There's a possibility that something had snuck through?"
"It is," Stephen said. "But its not the only one she placed on her—shit-" he cursed, slamming the book, tossing it somewhere. Zelma running in, setting down the things (wincing when she saw the book go flying)
"What?" Jericho asked. Stephen shook his head. "It's not the only one she placed on her. You said magic expelled from her when she was pain?"
"Yeah, it rocked the whole school." Zelma said. Stephen nodded, glancing at Jericho. "You were right, it is Voodoo doll possession. But done surgically, targeted to cause the most pain forcing the Faltine part of her to defend her."
"One that was cut off from the dark dimension." Jericho said, pinching his brow. "Her body's not used to the new magic, it's rejecting it."
"Like an allergy?" Zelma asked.
"Like a cancer." Stephen replied, walking to Sofia, leaning over her. She was still, some of her hair mattered and slicked with sweat. Bats' head was leaning against her hand, trying to offer some comfort. "They're trying to kill her by getting her to kill herself."
"What do we do?"
Stephen paused, touching Sofia's forehead. "Jericho, watch her, try and keep her asleep for now. We get her in the pool. We need to lower her body temperature." Stephen said, weaving past Zelma retrieving bottles and books, that he threw hastily on the table.
"Pool?" Bats said, a splash pool materializing in the middle of the room. Zelma instantly starting to fill the splash pool with water, then with ice.
"Stephen," Jericho said warningly.
"Put her in there," Stephen said, shrugging off his cloak, setting the things down for the spell. "Jericho, you'll have to do the spell," he said, making a move to step into splash pool.
"I'll go in with her, you do the spell." Zelma said quickly, kicking off her shoes and socks.
Stephen paused, retracting his foot. "Are you sure? It'll be cold. The Faltine part is attacking her, I'll have to freeze the surroundings as well." Stephen asked, a part of him still quite adamant of being the one to get frozen in temperatures well below negative.
Zelma nodded. "I can do it."
"But it will be easier for me too." Clea said, standing (physically) there, her eyes drifting to Sofia. The girl in question, mumbled quietly in her spell-induced sleep. Stephen glanced between Clea and Sofia. "Doesn't it matter, just do it, now!" Stephen snapped.
Clea nodded, stepping into the splash pool, holding out her hands for Sofia. Jericho slowly transferred Sofia to her, the little girl wincing when the water touched her skin. Clea wrapped her arms around her, settling Sofia on her lap, holding her close to her chest, resting Sofia's head on her shoulder.
Stephen placed four candlesticks about a meter away from the splash pool, in the square shape. "Don't cross this, I'm dropping the temperature lower than 0oC." he said, placing the last candle, he raised his hand, golden lines of magic glowing from his fingertips.
Zelma could feel the chill nip at her system, even from outside the barrier, and from Clea's face, she could feel it too, a thin layer of 'frost' surrounding the square.
"Are you all right?" Stephen asked his wife, stepping back. "I'll live." Clea said, stroking Sofia's hair. "She's still too hot, but I believe it will help her."
Stephen nodded, turning to Zelma and Jericho. "We need to find Voodoo doll, once we dissipate it's connection to Sofia, we can work on mending the connection between—"
He paused.
"Are you going to tell me you're going to watch out for me now or something?" Sofia said crossing her arms, pulling her shoulders closer to herself, letting his hand slip off. "I don't want or need you too. I've been taking care of myself for a while. It's nothing new."
He…couldn't-
"Stephen?" Zelma asked. He blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. "You and Jericho need find the doll. Tell me when you cut the connection and I can—"
"You're not coming with us?" Jericho asked, though the way he said it made it sound like a statement rather than a question. Stephen shook his head, though his eyes still looking conflicted, but it seemed his worry won out over uncertainty. "I can't leave her again. Not now."
"We'll find it. I swear." Jericho said, clasping a hand on his forearm, turning on his heel down the steps. Zelma nodded, taking one last look at Sofia, following Jericho down.
The room was nearly silent. The sound of the water shifting, from Clea's small movements when she adjusted her hold on Sofia, lifting her higher onto her, or shifting her from one side to the other. The tapping of his left foot against the wood, the sound clipped and clear and Sofia's heavy struggled breaths.
He had been fairly used to Sofia's normal breath; when he opened her door after she fell asleep every night, checking the windows and the blanket before he dragged his feet elsewhere, not wanted to be linger too long, but not wanted to leave.
He knew she slept on her side, with her brown teddy bear, cuddled under one arm, under the covers. She bundled herself in said covers, but tossed the blanket which made her cold later on, by her slight shivering and goosebumps. She usually slept with her hair tied up in a light ponytail, often got loose leaving a tangle of white and black hair on the pillow in different directions.
He knew she had dreams, not good ones, but not nightmares either. Ones that made her clutch that bear a little tighter, but usually relaxed a bit when he put the blanket back over her. He'd crouch there for a few seconds. Just listening to her breath. In and out, quiet, and at easy, until he stood up and walked out, turning on the small lamp on the desk, closing the door behind him.
She didn't sound like that now. Every breath seemed like a struggle. Coming in too short, and exhaling too long. It was uneven and loud and wrong. He could hear her trying, hear her fighting with every breath. He just didn't know long she would be able to keep it up.
She was fighting three battles; her Faltine and human side, her elderich magic and her Faltine magic, the ones behind all of this, all with the end possibly resulting in her death. Which he and Clea could do nothing for now, but wait and try to relieve her pain as much as possible.
"Everything." Clea said softly, making him look up.
"What?"
"You asked me, 'If having her means anything?' Everything. She means everything." Clea said, unconsciously tightening her grip on her, their daughter. "Losing her, was, is losing everything." Clea said, glancing down at her, smiling to herself. "This is the first time, I've seen her in 14 years. She still looks like you."
He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, looking over at them. He could agree that most of Sofia's more prominent features like her hair, and her eyes, took more after him than Clea. But now that he was looking between the two of them, he could see Clea as plain as day.
"I don't see it."
Clea scoffed playfully. "Don't try and act coy, it's awful colour on you." she said, stoking Sofia's hair, her eyes settling on her again. "I held her just like this. She drooled on my clothes…" she said. Stephen smiling at that, as he remembered Sofia did indeed still occasionally drool in her sleep.
"I didn't let her go for the entire day we were here. When I finally gave her to Vesper, she cried. I just walked out the door…I stayed outside until she stopped crying. I knew if I held her then, I wouldn't let her go and…I thought it was the best thing for her…" Clea sighed, shaking her head. "Now, I find 'the best thing' to be the thing that's killing her. Obviously."
"It's not your fault, Clea."
"No? You seemed to think differently a few hours ago."
"You did the right thing for her." Stephen said stiffly. "I thought it would be easier, but, she didn't even step foot outside the Academy and she's barely breathing… I…I don't know how can we protect from this. I don't want Sofia ending up with no childhood and family, but I don't want her ending up dead or worse either."
Silence.
"Hiding her is hurting her," Clea said, pausing in her stroking. "…not hiding her could hurt her."
"We lose both ways." he said staring at the splash pool. Clea nodded. "She's strong." she mused.
"And powerful." Stephen added. "She did a good job against the Zealots."
Clea smiled bending down to Sofia's ear. "Good girl." she said, pursing her lips, gazing up at him. "We can't hurt her anymore, Stephen."
"I know." he said, lightly touching the water. The ice and the spell had kept it chilled, but he could tell it was slightly warmer than before. Sofia was slightly cooler than before, and her pulse stronger than it had been. Clea was watching him, with her usual look, feeling Sofia's forehead.
"Are you scared?" Stephen asked.
Clea smiled sadly, cuddling Sofia closer. "Are you?"
Purple. She liked purple. It was by far, the perfect colour in her mind. Red and blue, clashing together to create the powerful and majestic purple. So, when she opened her eyes to purple, mind still blurred and achy, like the whack-a-mole after the mole had been pulled out and thoroughly abused by tiny children.
"Furfel." Sofia slurred, leaning against person, making a move as if trying it touch it, her hands not co-operating. "Furfel n mold. Fremmy."
"Sofia?" said a voice from above her. She paused. Did she just die? Was this it? Was this God? Why was it purple? "Sofia?" the voice, female (was God really a gendered, or did she really like the song?) "Sofia, are you awake? Can you hear us?"
The blurs started to sharpen, the purple and golden, finding their places. She was resting on someone, who was wearing purple. A strange fabric, that reminded her of her old blanket, golden circles and runic patterns on her clothes. She looked up, Strange's goatee-wearing face just a few inches away. "Urgh."
At least she wasn't dead. Yet.
"She's awake." he announced, leaning back. "How are you feeling?"
"Mmm." she hummed, her throat still raw a part of her still eager to go back to sleep. Strange waved his hand which was shaking slightly… a glass of water materializing in his hand. He handed it to her, before a materializing a pink straw.
Another hand took the water from him, lowering it to her, Sofia tentatively talking a sip from it. It burned her throat, but it soothed the rawness just a little bit. The burn doing a fair job of clearing the clouds in her brain.
"I'm, okay." she said slowly, shifting slightly trying to sit up, her body still moving far to slow and sluggishly for her liking. "It's really cold." she mumbled, moving her hand slowly splashing the water in the splash pool. "And wet."
"You're fever was too high, this was the best way to try and control it for now." Strange said, he was sitting on his knees, leaning over the edge of the splash pool. He was shivering, and freezing, by the puffs of smoke that came out whenever he took a breath.
"Traveling back to the 80s?" she said, splashing the water around.
"I made do with what I had."
"You mean the bathroom locked you out again-"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said, the final clouds finally drifting away. The school. Zelma. Oh, man, she destroyed so many things...
Strange blinked, looking quite and thoroughly confused. "For what?" he said in a very soft one, seeming more surprised that she was apologizing to him.
"I wrecked more of your school." Sofia said, in a very matter of the fact voice. Strange laughed, a proper good chuckle. The woman above her (wow, she almost forgot about her) chuckling too.
"I should start charging you." Strange said smiling.
"Fix your bathroom first, before you start demanding payments." Sofia replied, glancing up at the woman. She was pretty, no gorgeous; with pure slivery-white hair that didn't really look much like hair, at least not at the ends which resembled the last licks of flames before a dying fire, low but strong. She looked like that too, a burning fire, sharp features with eyes that was almost ethereal look to them. In fact, everything about her from her hair to her clothes, looked and felt otherworldly.
"Hi." Sofia tried, after she was sure she definitely hadn't met her before. It was really hard to keep track of these days. "Hello." the woman said cordially, offering her a small smile. Which Sofia took as greeting enough, deciding that she was done holding conversation, considering this woman already clearly knew who she was and what was going on. She didn't have time to get into this.
"What happened?" she asked, glancing between the two, when they shared a look, a very specific one that (according to extensive watching of Modern Family, Full House, Fuller House and others, she couldn't think due to the continuous burning agony) was shared by grown-up, adults, usually consisting of one: that didn't want to tell the truth of a situation concerning you, despite you having full rights to know, but believing you to be too young or immature to handle. And the other being: screw it, we passed that time.
"Still happening." Strange said, after a few seconds. "I'll explain it later, but all you need to know is that, a part of the magic that resides in you is attacking you. Its why your pain, you're fighting a three way battle and we need to balance it. Zelma and Jericho are destroying one, once that's over. I'm going to fix the other and then you're going to be fine."
Sofia blinked. "I have a lot of questions."
"We know, but that is for another time," the woman said, she spoke with a lot of authority, but with an edge of fairness. It was fairly similar to the way, Strange spoke, except his authority was lighter, more welcoming, like a teacher. Whereas the woman spoke like a principle. Maybe it was just her?
"Are you in any pain?" the woman asked.
Yes. Was her automatic answer, which she wisely (debatable) swallowed down. The burning had not left her, but the splash pool and the wards seemed to be helping (well she wasn't screaming in agony, so anything was better than that) It was a very direct question, which meant weaselling her way out of it would be difficult. She sipped her water, regretting it as fast as she did it.
The woman sighed, half shoving her back in her. "You're more stubborn that he is," she said under her breath, pressing her hand against her forehead.
An instant feeling of calm encompasses her, drowsiness once again pulling at her system. She shut her eyes.
"Nothing yet?" the woman asked. "No," Strange said, his hand slowly touching her hair. The affection was surprising enough. Was she really on her death-bed or something?
The woman huffed, her body stiffening. "We're wasting time, you should do the spell now-"
"It'll put too much stress on her, waiting is safer." Strange said, his hand slowly moving away. "Playing it safe, isn't your usual forte, Stephen." the woman said, still adamant that he should be 'doing the spell now'
"I'm not going to gamble with her life, Clea." Strange said firmly. Clea, Sofia thought. What and interesting way to meet your mother.
Thoughts?
Thank you all for reading!
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