Groping along the wall with her right hand, Lina thought about all that had happened since she met her conscience; or so he called himself.
She was just a plain girl. Raven hair like Shylfiel's...blue eyes like Gourry. But she hadn't been pretty. She was weak too. She would watch her family work while she sat and watched. And then she ate the most in the evening, to re-supply the energy sapped from her weak and sickened body.
She thought that if she knew magic, then maybe she could help. But she was told over and over again by masters of magic that she was too weak and it would kill her all the quicker.
It was a sad thing. And ugly girl with not future to look forward to.
Then he arrived.
No one else knew about his arrival but her. He amused her with magical feats, making flowers grow and then picking them and weaving them into her hair. He showed her more love in his friendship than anyone ever had.
One day, she asked a favor of him.
"You want me to do what?" he asked. Obviously he didn't believe what she was asking.
"Make me stronger. Give me beauty. You've told me stories of how you've done it before."
"But you heard how those stories turned out."
"I know, but I don't care. Give me part of the demon in you. I'm ready for the consequences."
With a sigh, he asked her once again if this was what she wanted. She agreed and pleaded with all her heart.
With a deeper sigh, he bit the end of his tongue. Blood emerged, pooling within his mouth. After a few moments, he pressed his lips to hers...and she drank. She...always the fool...accepted this curse with open arms, thus destroying both their lives.
She was changed physically. Her hair turned orange-red and her eyes faded and shifted to a crimson ruby color. Her face changed, not much, but enough to give her a child-like beauty. And, as a sign of what he did for her, two black dots appeared on her forehead. Not much else changed. She still had the body of a fifteen year old girl...but a stronger one. Her appetite remained...habits, she supposed, were harder to change. And she would have these changes forever.
Mentally, she changed significantly. She was not capable of many powers. And because of the physical changes, she could handle them. Her personality now fit her appearance. Fiery and bold, she had lost her innocense. The ways of the world transferred from the power-giver's mind to hers.
Pulling out the mirror she packed, she looked upon herself and smiled. As she did so, the man looked at her blankly. Something inside him died with her innocence. He was now just a heartless shell.
At that moment, she decided not to return to her family. She would trouble them no more; she would live on her own.
The man simply wished her a hollow "good luck" and they parted ways. She could still "speak" with him in their thoughts, but it was not the same.
Eventually, he became lonely and insisted she return to him. She refused, and his summoning magic only worked when the person summoned was willing. So, from then on, he talked down to her, whittling away at her self-worth. All the while, calling himself her "conscience".
When she met her traveling companions, he redoubled his efforts. She was able to resist, but eventually she grew tired and started to believe what he said. He had been right before...why not now. That was when she returned home; to him.
She wished she could have heard what Zelgadis was going to say as she continued to grope the walls in darkness. A torch flickered nearby...all around. But darkness was forever to her. A little after returning to him, she became blind.
It was a random act of rage on his part. He struck out, knocking her against a rock. He felt her neck, and upon finding she was alive, left her there.
When she awoke, her eyes revealed nothing unto her. A healing spell could have easily cured her...but she didn't cast it. She preferred not to see the monsters she had made them both. And then....after a while...she couldn't if she wanted. She had forgotten how.
Years Passed
She traded her sorceress's clothes for a drab grey tunic and a pair of tight, leather trousers. She did what she was ordered to do wordlessly, accepting the physical and emotional beatings.
She had been reduced to a dirty, blind, mute mound of worthlessness. The only thing she kept of her old self was the black hand around her head. The jewels were gone and the cape as well as the glories. Her red hair had lost its luster and shine. Her eyes had grown dull and lost their softness from years of disuse. Indeed....now she looked how she thought, and how he thought of her.
More Years Passed
She was awakened from her slumber by the clashing of steel against steel. Sounds she recognized, sounds of battle. Someone was having a duel of swords.
Quickly getting out of her bed, she followed the sounds until she reached the hallway leading to the main hall, a wide open area, perfect for battle. On her way there, she had heard voices above the swords.
"I've come for Lina." a voice oh so familiar....but she couldn't put a name or face to it.
"You'll never have her!" another voice snarled. Her conscience owned that one.
She reached the main hall and halted at the doorway, listening to the battle. No more words were spoken, but metal continued to ring in her ears. Then a snarl/cry of pain. She recognized that sound. It was the sound of a deathblow...judging by the tone...it was delivered to the gut. But she recognized the voice as her conscience and then all she heard was labored breathing. Silence emitted from everywhere else.
"Miassa?" a quiet voice echoed through the room, making everything silent, including the labored breathing. Lina was surprised when she realized the voice was her own, and she had spoken a name unspoken for years: her conscience's real name.
She heard slow shuffling in her direction as her name was whispered reverantly from another direction. Then, a hand upon her face. It was growing cold and was covered with a warm, sticky liquid. Blood. The hand moved from her cheek and cupped her head at the temple. It was then that a shape formed in her mind. Everything else was dark.
There knelt her conscience, Miassa, before her. His right hand on her cheek, his left covering a profusely bleeding wound in his abdomen. The look in his eyes brought tears to hers.
Upon hearing Lina speak after so many years....and with such innocense he thought he had destroyed forever...he found his lost heart. With tears in his eyes, he spoke to her, ignoring the intruder that had dealt him the death-blow.
"Lina...I'm so sorry for what I did to you..." he paused and coughed up some blood. A pool gathered underneath him and was staining her clothes.
She could "see" the tears from her eyes fall onto his cheek. "I should never have asked you to do it..." she responded still not used to hearing her own voice. She then placed both of her hands on the one on her cheek.
He smiled. "I should never have listened. I'm sorry..." he whispered and leaned forward. The vision before her was blurring and soon faded into darkness.
"Miassa?" she asked to the shadows.
"I'm sorry..." he whispered again and she felt something brush against her lips. Then his hand fell away and he was still.
Tears still pouring down her cheeks from her once again sightless eyes, she wrapped her arms around his bloodied form. "No Miassa...I'm sorry..."
She heard a clearing of someone's throat across the room. She brushed the tears away and with dead eyes, stared at the darkness....at the man that killed her conscience...no...not her conscience....her friend.
Part 3 | Fanfiction