Something primal from Kalisia Ashcraft's blog


The apprentice was too numbed to be able to find rest in mind and body. Her tanned skin had cracked open. It carried shades of milky white and dark sanguine, with blisters swelling and tightening over her neckline and down her arm. She could feel the aching in her wrist, which in turn made her left hand shake from the throbbing pain pulsating from it.

Looking up from the floor from the rocking chair she sat in, she let her gaze flicker to the window. Moonlight filtered through the glass and for one moment she felt enamored; the blonde knew little sights more wondrous to the eye. Her last trip outside had bathed her cloaked form in a faint light from the full moon.

Kalisia could remember walking along a path made of cobblestone clad abundantly in cheaply woven robes and her spacious cloak. A mist had crept around her feet from the tall trees of Drustvar and normally it didn’t bother her; but that night, it felt different. That night an undefinable edge had been hanging in the air. The wispy threads of mist had continued to curl around her bare feet and she had passed through them like a ghost.

Kalisia had felt alone, left with the silence of solicitude until..

.. until her breath had been caught in her throat. There in the mist she had caught sight of an alarming shadow and for a split moment, a beast-like glare had been bearing down on her. Like some silly girl from a scene she had read in a novel, Kalisia started to run. She ran frantically and without a sense of direction until she tripped over something that sent her wincing and crashing to her knees. A sharp pain shot up from her knees from where they had connected with a rough surface. Cringing in pain, she abruptly stood with another pain coursing through her legs, barely contained in a whimper.

She whirled around, looking for both beast and salvation. She thought she had spotted a deserted chimney but behind her as she turned, a gigantic, hideous mockery of a wolf stalked closer to her. Its red eyes told her that it was no normal canine; saliva was coiling its fangs and dripping through the mist to the ground.

It must have felt her fear, her terror, for it fell on her within seconds. With a murmur, her gloved hand was engulfed in flame before it crackled together in a singular orb of embers. It was chaotic; her magic was still raw and uncontrolled. With a flick of her wrist, her fire passed the beast, cast high into the sky. Next she was struck by pain unimaginable; the beast bit into her shoulder, knocking her over and making a scream rip through the woods by sinking its teeth into her again, narrowly missing her throat this time. Something rang through her ears; a blast of powder exploding within the barrel of a riffle. But whoever poor soul that had fired the gun must have missed because Kalisia felt a great weight lifting from her body. Shortly after, she heard the hellish screams of someone savagely torn apart.

Rising from the ground, the limping girl continued further through the mist, spitting blood and gasping for breath. But as soon a she had found the door of the empty cottage and flung it open, a dark shadow came upon her. Trembling, she turned to face the demon-made-reality. Something primal awakened within her as she stepped backwards, akin to the rage of her once-masters. Before fear could see her into an early grave, she curled her hand and drew it down, muttering a singular word of power.

Flames burst from the wolf’s fur like it was coated in oil, rapidly turning its unnatural roaring into the yelps of a beaten dog. The beast convulsed, flames writhing all over its form, before it dropped to the ground. By now, its fur and flesh had blackened to cinder. The beast was long dead, Kalisia realized, when its blackened limbs crumbled to ash and ember.

Shortly after she sank to the wooden floor and her conscience faded as flames crept from under the dead beast and begun to lick the walls.

When she came to it, the searing pain of burns was little in comparison to the fright she had felt. Before her on a simple wooden bed lied Raylen Zayne. a man she loved, not romantically but truthfully. Kalisia had crawled over to him to sit next to him; listening to each wheezing breath and troubled gasp that came out of Raylen. She touched his wrist, feeling the pulse drum back against her fingertips in a slightly reassuring rhythm. Each little beat stung her heart. Every breath he had drawn, she drew as well. If his breath hitched, so did hers. When his heart stopped beating, she felt hers halt too.

And now, staring at the moon, she had refused being present at his burial because her heart still felt numb and her legs still would not carry her. Raylen had saved her, and in turn, given his life for hers and for that, she could not forgive him.

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Raynord Westmoor
Mar 11
This is very well done and a beautiful piece to read. I like the fear she shows and the sadness that comes over her, and the contrast to the fear and anger she felt. It is beautiful to see how her emotions are tired to her magical strength.
Kalisia Ashcraft
Mar 13
@Raynord Thank you <3 That's very sweet and I'm glad you enjoyed it.
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By Kalisia Ashcraft
Added Mar 11


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