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cakeinthevoid · 1 year

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Cry, Baby, Cry

A short story I wrote to procrastinate on what I should be doing (please help me). Imma be honest... literally just thought of this rn. had to get it out of me. might polish it... maybe... if... okay enjoy:

“I’m not going back!” She sobbed, straining under the pressure of maintaining an energy field. Pale blue light surrounded her, twisting and shimmering like molten metal, but cracking like glass under the force of his magic.

“You’re unnatural, Iana!” He cried out over the roar of his dark burgundy magic gushing like a fierce stream of knives from his redwood wand. “Can’t you see you’re a danger to others? To yourself?” His gaze softened momentarily behind the haze of red growing around him, but his moves were calculated and cold. “This will protect you. Protect your friends! Don’t you care!?”

He punctuated his word with the strengthening of his magic, wrapping around the shell Iana formed around her crumpling form.

“Stop it!” She said furiously.

“Don’t you care!?” He repeated.

“Please, Kayin!” The boy flinched.

The hitch in magic output was enough. Iana dropped to one knee and sweeped her arms out, expanding her dome and repelling the red haze that had begun to seep through.

“Witch!” Kayin spat, already recovering from a stumble into his casting stance. “Jacob! Neomi!” He yelled to the skies.

Iana felt her eyes widen and heart turn to stone in realization. Even though she could already taste blood in her mouth, she knew Kayin could never beat her on his own. His magic was like fire; it needed something to burn in order to, well, burn. It pulled from everything around the caster—the air, the water, the earth—which is why the once lively meadow in the far courtyard was now a husk of dry grass and dead flowers.

By contrast, her energy was made to last, to outlast.

That’s why the only way to truly stop her was to contain her.

To imprison her.

Kayin was going to seal her away. Just like his father.

She felt ice in her chest again.

“Iana Meryan,” Kayin began, brown eyes deepening with red.

“No!” She panicked, eyes jumping wildly across the field, searching for Jacob’s blond curls or Neomi’s long braids.

“I, Kayin Talabi,—”

Where were they? Surely one of them held the containment item. There were few artifacts capable of containing such powerful energies, so as long as she destroyed the artifact—

“—son of Opeyemi Talabi—”

The back of her neck prickled.

“—Master of the Arcane Arts—

She sent a blast of white-hot energy behind her, phasing through her forcefield, and choked down a hysterical giggle as she heard Jacob’s voice cry out “bitch!” followed by the distinct sound of a swat landing on the back of someone’s head and the same voice crying out ‘ow.’

Before they could retaliate, she compressed her barrier, bringing it close and tightening the spaces between shimmers. All their direct magic attacks sprang right off it.

Iana tried to catch her breath in her dense cocoon. The roaring sounds of magic were muted within the walls. The only light came from the glow of the walls themselves. But she could only afford a few seconds in this relative peace, lest they bind her with her own energy. She would not risk the chance that Opeyemi refined his method and taught it to his son.

She drowned all thoughts about her friends—they weren’t her friends, not anymore—and focused on the energy in her mind, soul, and veins. Bringing her arms to her chest in a cross, she gave herself one moment before executing her signature high-risk move.

The banishment speech was long, anyway. She had heard it all before.

In a single exhale, she pulled her arms apart, splitting her cocoon in a calculated move to create sharp edges blades of dense matter that unfurled like wings of scythes, spiralling outward in a radiant burst and exposing her for all.

Kayin’s eyes widened as a blade unfurled at him—and flinched as it exploded into white butterflies inches away from slicing him open.

His speech hardly stuttered then, but went hollow with shock when his gaze jumped to Iana.

Stupid, she thought to herself as she stood there, arm outstretched and tears streaming down her face. And yet, for another stupid moment, she thought—

“This isn’t you, Kayin.”

“—forgotten whispers in the night—” The words rang hollow.

“It’s not too—” Iana cut off with a gasp and dropped to a roll, dodging a yellow blast from behind where Neomi was—arm holding a delicate wand already lowering as she pulled herself back to her feet.

“Remember what he told you!” She shouted to Kayin across the field.

In a moment that felt both too short and too long, the uncertainty in Kayin’s features twisted into resoluteness.

Iana moved to build a defense once more, chastising herself and twisting her hand upwards only for—

“—by ancient power—”

—a whip of lime green—

“—and steadfast will—”

—to wrap around her wrist, snaking down her arm.

“—the blood of ancient reign shall chill—”

She tugged, twisted away from Kayin and his ringing words to face Jacob and his vine-like chains of magic, only for her to cry out in pain as a shock of pain burst in her back.

“—lakes to ice—”

She raised a wall of pale blue matter between her and Neomi and Jacob, but Jacob’s green vines snaked around it. Yellow vines bit into her other arm. Without her dome, the red haze had begun to engulf her, dimming the bright afternoon sun.

“—sand to stone—”

Kayin’s words suddenly reached her. He was nearing the end, but she just needed to listen, then she could destroy—

“—may this mirror be your throne!” Kayin spat the words like poison, but Iana was going to go mad with laughter.

All of this, all of this show, and they thought some mirror could bind her when it took a painite-lined crystal-ice-ball for Talabi the Innovator to trap her.

She was a breath away from a truly evil cackle when Kayin whipped an ornate handheld mirror from his coat. A mirror she recognized.

It was hers, after all.

Her breath left her as though someone had kicked her in the stomach. They may as well have.

She was looking at the one thing she couldn’t bring herself to destroy from her years as an apprentice.

Hand carved wood, deep golden amber, glass she blew herself all those years—decades—ago. And the mirror. Her first perfect reflection.

How could she have been so stupid?

“Iana Meryan,” he began with a voice of red hot iron, red red red like his magic, the haze, the sun, his eyes.

“No!” she screeched, writhing with a newfound panic and fury. Not like this, not like this!

“You echoes will fade into oblivion.” He tightened his grip on his wand.

“I refuse!” She thrashed against the bonds, using her rabid gaze to plead with Noemi, to beg with Jacob.

Noemi was looking at the ground to her left, cringing.

Jacob had his brows furrowed in anger and lips pursed in pain.

They… they weren’t going to do anything.

Her fate was sealed.

The subconscious acceptance burned within her.

“Iana Meryan,” he said her name for the third time. He pinned her with a steely gaze. She stopped thrashing as thick dread settled in her bones, her core, her soul.

He looked pained, in this pause between words.

“Kayin…” she tried for the last time.

“I banish you beyond our realm.”

His words were not cried out, but they rang with the strength of a hundred oaks, of a pride of lions, of generations. The swirling red haze concentrated into streams and began zipping towards her like snakes.

She sobbed in pain as red knives cut into the fabric of her very being. She fought against it, slashing with all her power, but the knives were lined with her own energy; they were being filtered through the mirror she had made herself.

Still, she fought—she fought every second of if, no matter how fruitless—because every last painful second of her existence was worth it to breathe fresh air, to see cloud-spotted skies, and to feel the warmth of the sun.

She kept her head raised and eyes open until she completely vanished into the mirror.

——————————————————————————————————

It took less than a minute for Iana to be cast into the mirror.

It was the longest damned minute of Kayin’s life. As the last of the red haze was sucked into the face of the mirror, sealing Iana within, he took a shaky breath in.

And promptly fell to his knees.

“Kayin!”

The earth was packed, dense beneath his knees. It should have hurt to land, but he couldn’t feel much of anything. His redwood wand was pressed between his right hand and the dead grass. Under his left, face down, was the mirror. He curled his fingers around it and dug his nails into the earth.

“Dude, are you good?” Jacob dropped onto the ground to his left. Kayin saw out of the corner of his eye how he raised an arm as if to rest it on his back, only to pull back. “That was… a lot,” he said instead.

“We should get him to the med office.”

That was Neomi. Kayin blinked and realised her studded derby shoes were right in front of him already. He felt like everything was going in slow motion

“I’m fine,” he tried to say, only sounding a little slurred.

“Definitely med-office,” Jacob agreed. “Say that again, bud? Or maybe not? We’ll get some responders here to take you—”

“Shut up, he’s trying to say something.”

Truthfully, Kayin didn’t know what he was trying to say. He was more so just trying to work his mouth. After reciting the banishment, his words sounded off—his voice sounded off.

“Aaah,” he tried and shuddered. He felt like throwing up.

“Dude,” Jacob chuckled nervously, “you’re kinda freaking me out— ow!”

Kayin finally looked up to see Neomi shaking out her hand: the hand she had just presumably knocked Jacob upside the head with.

She crouched down, ignoring his muttering, and looked Kayin in his eyes.

“It’s over. I know it was hard. It was hard for all of us. But we did the right thing.”

When Kayin said nothing, she added: “Your dad will be proud.”

At that, Kayin looked back down at the scorched earth, avoiding looking at either the mirror or his wand.

Neomi sighed and stood up, cracking her back.

“Come on,” she said. “Let's get out of here.” She huffed a too dry laugh. “Guess we should at least call the groundskeeper if not the responders.”

“Christ, tell me about it,” Jacob said. “I’ve never seen your magic go so hardcore, dude. Not gonna lie, you looked epic, like a real mast–”

“Epic?” Kayin’s head jerked up. “Epic?” he repeated, looking between Jacob and Neomi, who suddenly looked tense.

“Do you realize what we just did?” He asked when neither would hold his gaze. “We banished our—our—a human,” he said instead, “to a void in a mirror.”

He shuddered, a sudden ache echoing in his being. “She was… was begging me to stop—I could feel everything. I didn’t know it was like—it was like we were connected that entire time. All her thoughts and feelings—I felt them.”

His friends were silent as he panted, choking on the weight of the air.

“She was so scared and broken and hateful and more at the same time and I didn’t know what to—” he cut off as Noemi dropped onto her knees and wrapped her arms around him, dirtying her neat pants.

Something in his core recoiled at the touch, like he didn’t deserve it, but he couldn’t bring himself to shove her away.

A moment later, he felt Jacob wrap his arms from the side.

“Dude…” he said, but didn’t elaborate.

“It’s okay,” Neomi continued instead, and horrifyingly, Kayin’s eyes began to sting. “We’ll get help, Kayin. We’ll talk with your dad as soon as we can. He can help—he’s done this before.”

She pulled back to look him in the face. He turned his head aside, knowing that his eyes were likely no longer red with magic, but with tears.

Gently, she put her hand on his cheek and turned his face back towards her.

“You did great. You were great.”

He pressed his eyes closed, feeling the tears roll down his face.

“How do you know?” he asked, voice rasping hardly above a whisper.

“Because you didn’t try to kill her.”

Unexpectedly, he snorted—an ugly and wet sound as a result of his crying. “You know we couldn’t have killed her, right? People stronger than us have tried.” He swiped at his eyes, trying to wipe his tears.

“Yeah, but you weren’t blinded by rage, or anything,” Jacob piped up and added in a dramatic voice.

“Is the bar that low?” Kayin asked through a wet laugh.

“Yes,” Jacob replied solemnly.

Neomi looked at him and snorted. “Okay guys, great heart to heart, but we should really get out of here. People are coming towards us.”

Jacob looked up and Kayin ducked.

“Yikes, let’s dip.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Teleport?” Jacob asked hopefully.

Kayin recoiled at the thought of using more magic. Neomi seemed to be of the same opinion.

“Absolutely not,” she said. “We’re going the old fashion way: walking.”

Kayin had just enough time to pick the mirror and his wand up before his friends tugged him up to his feet. A few wavering moments of unsteadiness later and he could walk in a line, if a bit crooked.

“Let’s go, terrible trio.”

And so the trio made their way to the services building just off the turf beyond the courtyard.

Quartet, Kayin thought in the back of his mind, holding the mirror a little tighter.

——————————————————————————————————

#writing in the void #in the void #iana #kayin #jacob #neomi #new ocs??? maybe. my friends. may.be.#whump #captivity #magic whump #betrayal #my cake

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the-whumping-hour · 11 months

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June of Doom Day 1: “You don’t want to do that” (Locked Door / Fear)

CW: 13-year-old whumpee (non-graphic suffering and this is a backstory piece), shutdown in response to trauma, aftermath of murder, moderate fear-of-death thoughts, young whumper, mild and relatively brief description of a past stabbing

Notes: FIRST PIECE ON TUMBLR EVER!!!! Please reblog because I am so so terrified of posting my writing but I am literally so excited to be doing this. Tag list (one person now, let me know if you want to be added): @lektricwhump

***

Silence. Dead silence, laying heavy over the house, thick and suffocating, impossible to move through.

Gabriel had practiced this dozens upon dozens of times before in his thirteen years of living. The cue from his parents downstairs to get out followed by quickly prying the window open, his little bony fingers scrabbling to unlock the latch, bracing his feet on the sill for half a second before dropping into a roll against the deck, a story or so below him. He was the only kid in school, as far as he’d ever known, who routinely practiced home invasion responses. And he had gotten good at it, damn it, in his thirteen years of living. No longer did he wince as he hit and spun forward against the often rain-slicked wood below, no longer did he hesitate before making that jump. Never look back, just save yourself. He never thought it would be happening for real.

The gunshots still echo in his ears.

There’s muffled voices downstairs, muttering, scheming. The phrase ‘boy’ passes between voices he can only assume are speaking over his parents’ dead bodies–dead, they’re really dead, they have to be, they can’t be, they are–is he the boy? Are they going to kill him next? He doesn’t have anything for them. He heard the things the man had said before pulling the trigger, something about ‘debts’, something about being done. His parents knew this was coming, they must have. They must have.

Does he have to be the one to pay now?

The front door opens and closes. A sound he’s gotten all too used to. If he shuts his eyes and leans back against the headboard, he can almost imagine it’s his mom leaving to go on another errand. He’s just home alone, he just has to be responsible. He just has to jump out the goddamn window and pray the deck catches him like it always does and he has to run and never stop, never look back for anyone else, not his parents most certainly lying dead at this moment. But he can’t move. He can’t move at all.

Footsteps are moving up the stairs now, slowly. Just one pair if he can tell correctly. He stays as still as possible in bed, barely even moved from his original position of being shocked awake by the sound of shattering glass. If he stays still enough, maybe whoever it is will leave him alone. He doesn’t have anything. Nothing at all, no, they took everything away.

“Little boy…?”

No. No no no no no.

“Little boy?” The voice is smooth but also not, melodic but haunting and rough at the same time, like the sound a bird makes right before it dies. It’s right outside the door. He’s going to die. “Are you in here?” The person outside tries the knob. It doesn’t open. He doesn’t move from the bed. “I know you’re in here, Gabriel. I was told to kill little boys like you.”

The click of the door. Is it… did they unlock it? How? How?

“You don’t want me to kill you, do you?”

And then the door opens, and Gabriel feels it in that instant—that horrifying instant, where his vision is tunneling and his mind is projected out of his body—that he will remember this forever. Forever, especially if this person, this monster, kills him right here in bed, no time to even try to escape. He will remember this forever.

The person steps forward. It’s now, only now, that Gabriel registers what he’s looking at. They can’t be much older than him, definitely not an adult by any means, hair coiled tight and tied back behind them, eyes a shade of the 2AM sky outside and death. And they grin, and in that grin Gabriel sees everything his life has been for. His parents wanted him to live, his parents wanted him to be the one to carry on if they could not. All of this potential, all here, all bundled up inside of the killer in front of him. They’re definitely not the only one, but they were sent for him. He is their purpose.

There’s a frozen moment in time between the two, eyes focused on each other, some mutual promise made in the silence of a home now haunted and abandoned. Gabriel goes to turn his head towards the window—maybe he can make it out in time, maybe he can be brave—but before he can, the killer raises a finger to their lips. Silence.

There is so much silence here.

They pull a knife out from behind their back now. It’s almost iridescent, glittering in the light from the hallway, catching a shine from the killer’s eyes. The parts that aren’t shining are covered in a thick coat of blood.

“Will you miss your mom?” The voice is gentler now. No one else in the world will know of this conversation. The others are surely waiting outside… is he being spared? Is this mercy?

Gabriel nods his head.

“I want you to remember her.” They hold up the knife, and instantly Gabriel can imagine it being driven through him right here and now, but the killer–the savior?–sets it on the floor in front of their feet instead. “She’s on that blade. You’ll always have her.”

He wants to scream. He wants to scream and run and jump out the window and be brave and fling the knife in his savior’s face, it is his mother’s blood, that much he’s figured out now in the midst of all this shock, and yet. And yet.

The savior holds their finger to their lips again. Their next words are muttered, as deep and haunted as their eyes, as this house. “I will not forget you.”

They shut the door behind them.

Gabriel stands, takes the knife, grabs the windowsill, tumbles down to safety, runs into the woods, carries the weapon of his mother’s death forever.

The rest of the year is a blur.

#june of doom #juneofdoom #june of doom day 1 #whump #whump community #creepy whumper #whump challenge #writing challenge #my writing #gabriel harada #kayin camille #backstory #original writing #please reblog this is my first writing on hereeee #teehee there will be more

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