the storm whitin

The silence between Lira and Niamh stretched for what felt like an eternity. The weight of Niamh's words lingered in the air like a heavy fog, pressing down on Lira with an almost suffocating force. You are the storm. The sentence repeated in her mind, each time growing louder, more insistent. It wasn't just the magic that was threatening to consume her; it was the truth, the realization that she might be the very force that would tear everything apart.

She tried to steady her breathing, her hands clenched tightly at her sides as though she could somehow hold onto herself. She wanted to ask Niamh more questions, to demand explanations, but the woman's gaze was calm, steady, like she knew exactly what was going through Lira's mind.

"You're not the only one who's afraid," Niamh said, her voice breaking the silence. "You're not the first person to carry this burden. The power inside you—it's been dormant for so long, but now it's waking up. And when it does, it doesn't just affect you. It will affect everyone around you."

Lira swallowed, the lump in her throat making it hard to speak. "How do you know so much about it?" Her voice was sharp, more confrontational than she intended, but the question burned within her. How could Niamh understand what it was like to have something so dangerous, so uncontrollable inside her?

Niamh's eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no anger in her gaze—only an unsettling understanding. "Because I've seen it before," she said quietly. "I've seen what happens when the power is unleashed without control. The destruction it causes. The lives it takes."

Lira's pulse quickened. "What happened?" she demanded. "Who—who else has had this power?"

Niamh's expression darkened. "The one who came before you. The one who thought they could control it. The one who failed."

Lira's mind reeled as she tried to process this new information. The one who failed. Did Niamh mean the person who had originally carried the magic before her? Had they been chosen as well, and had they fallen just as she feared she might? Her stomach churned with unease, but she pushed the thought aside for now. She couldn't afford to think about failure. Not yet.

"What happened to them?" Lira's voice trembled despite her best efforts to sound strong.

Niamh's gaze turned distant, her face clouded with something unreadable. "They were consumed," she replied softly. "They tried to wield the power without understanding it. And when they did, it destroyed them from the inside out. The magic tore them apart. Not just their body, but their mind. Their soul."

Lira's breath hitched in her chest. The idea of losing herself—that was the true horror. That was the nightmare she had been avoiding. She had fought so hard to control everything around her, to keep her sense of self intact, and now Niamh was telling her that all of that could slip away in an instant.

"You don't have to follow the same path," Niamh said, her voice like a soft whisper, though it carried the weight of a thousand unsaid things. "But you will have to face the truth of who you are. You cannot outrun it. The power you carry—it will force you to confront yourself. And it will change everything."

Lira's heart pounded, the words like a relentless drumbeat in her mind. But the fear gnawing at her wasn't just about the magic—it was about what this meant for her future, for everyone she cared about. Thorne, the village, the world. If she couldn't control this power, if she couldn't figure out how to use it, would it tear them all apart?

"I don't want to become like them," Lira whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Niamh's eyes softened, but there was a certain coldness to her expression. "I don't think you will," she said, but the words lacked conviction. "Not if you make the right choices."

Lira clenched her fists at her sides, trying to calm the storm that was beginning to stir within her. The power—the magic—it was there, beneath the surface, pulsing like a living thing, ready to break free at any moment. She could feel it thrumming inside her veins, a constant, insistent presence that wouldn't be ignored. But it wasn't just the magic that was awakening; it was her own fears, her doubts. The terror that she wouldn't be strong enough, that she wouldn't be able to protect the people she loved.

"You're not alone," Niamh added, as though sensing Lira's internal struggle. "The storm may be yours to face, but you will not face it alone. There are those who will stand beside you. Thorne, the villagers, even me. We will help you. But you must learn to trust the power within you, or it will control you instead."

Lira's head spun. Trust the power? How could she trust something that threatened to consume her? How could she trust something so uncontrollable, so dangerous?

"Do you trust me?" Lira asked, her voice quieter than before.

Niamh seemed to pause, as though considering the question. Then, finally, she nodded. "I do. But you must trust yourself more."

Lira turned away, her gaze falling to the ground as she tried to process everything Niamh had said. The weight of her own thoughts seemed to crush her, and for a moment, she wanted nothing more than to run. To escape from the pressure, the uncertainty, the fear. But she couldn't. She had come too far. She had made too many sacrifices.

And the truth was, she had already chosen her path. No matter how afraid she was, no matter how unsure she felt, she couldn't turn back now.

"Where do we go from here?" Lira asked, her voice steadying as she met Niamh's gaze once more.

Niamh's expression softened, though there was an underlying sadness in her eyes. "We begin with understanding. The magic is part of you, and you must learn how to control it. To do that, you must first understand its origins. Its true nature."

Lira's brow furrowed. "How do we do that?"

Niamh hesitated, her gaze flickering to the horizon where the sun was rising higher into the sky. "There is a place," she said slowly, her voice carrying the weight of something ancient. "A place where the magic was first born. A place where you can learn its true purpose, where you can see its history. It's a journey that few have survived. But it is the only way you'll understand what you're dealing with."

Lira's heart skipped a beat. "Where is this place?"

Niamh's eyes grew distant, and for a moment, Lira felt like she was speaking to someone else entirely. "It's called the Veil," Niamh murmured. "A place between worlds. A place where magic is strongest, where time and space don't follow the rules. If you want to understand the power within you, you must go there. And you must go alone."

Lira's pulse quickened, the weight of Niamh's words settling over her like a stormcloud. The Veil. The thought of it sent a shiver down her spine, but there was no denying the urgency in Niamh's voice. If she wanted to control the magic, to understand its true nature, she would have to take this risk. She had no choice.

"I'll go," Lira said, her voice steady despite the fear bubbling in her chest.

Niamh nodded, her eyes dark with something unreadable. "Then prepare yourself. The journey will not be easy. But it is the only way."

And with that, the decision was made. Lira was going to face the storm inside her. She was going to confront the magic, the truth, and the darkness that lay ahead. There was no turning back now.

The storm was coming. But this time, she would be ready.