NO.
Multiverse of Destiny: Chapter 101
THUD. She feels a weighty THUNK in her chest — anxiety, and despair. It’s a sudden sensation — like a meteorite smashing into the center of her chest, leaving behind a deep crater. Each second, her panic is heavier and heavier with hopelessness.
Once alive and magical, the forest lit with golden moonbeams becomes gloomy, dark, and abandoned.
Gamilia realizes that the load is around her neck, literally and figuratively. Glancing down at the necklace hanging on her bosom, she sees that the alive and sparkling jewel is now dull, dark, and dead, and it glows with a menacing hue of black. The sudden change sends a jolt of terror through her.
The Sorceress’ feet pause their joyful dance. But the woman knows that she must go on, despite the burden. She straightens her back, standing tall and bold in the center of the fairy ring. Her hands lift to the skies, and she calls the spirits of her compeers — witches, magic users, Sorcerers, and Sorceresses of old and of the current age.
The once calm breeze becomes unsettled, violently tossing the boughs of the trees in the forest. Gusts toss the woman’s wild hair about her face. Smoky wafts of evil seep from the gem dangling from her neck, quickly engulfing the area with a heavy pall.
“No.”
The woman speaks plainly, but firmly.
“NO.”
She bellows the word, this time with stentorian authority. She need not say anything but this word to be understood.
The smoke whirls and spins about the naked woman. But she stands firm, feet rooted in the natural world of earth and moss and hands lifted to the night sky. She envisions the faces of her peers joining her in the skirmish, drawing upon their strength.
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Then, just as quickly as it all begins, the winds calm, and the malicious fumes clear. The ugly blackness in the Ostrum gem dissipates, returning to its shimmering splendor.
The heaviness in her soul lifts; she draws a deep breath and falls, exhausted, to her knees onto the soft moss.
The cat sleeps quietly.
A bird tweets a happy song. Cool sheets caress her skin.
The young woman stretches and opens her eyes. Anne is in her room, alone.
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Story and art © Sunny Sorbet, 2022
