The sensation of holding came from neither of my hands. It felt almost as if I grew a third arm that could stretch and go wherever it pleased. Of course, I was not sure what the limitations of this magic hand was, but that did not matter right now. What matters is that I got this potion to my mom.
Stupidly, I grabbed the potion with my real hands and stumbled towards my mom’s body, instead of using the magic hand to bring it to her. The fact that I was doing magic completely eluded me, even when the spell ended. But as the magic circle dissipated, so did the stupor that the Inquisitors were in.
Apparently, the Inquisitors did not think that I could do magic, and were momentarily stunned when I did. But that effect ended, and one of them— the spearman— shouted out.
"Give that back! I’ll kill you, you heretic!"
He picked up his spear, and lifted it over his head like a javelin, but was stopped by his companion. He did not seem enthused by the spearman’s actions
"What are you doing?! She’s a child!"
"She’s a child of the Fiend, and a heretic herself! Did you not see what she did?"
"But... " The fancily dressed man hesitated, but the spearman continued.
"Worry not, Saint. I know you have your virtues to uphold. But she is a heretic, and it is my duty to kill her. Even if she’s a little girl, she could become a threat to the Church like her mother once was."
This time, the Saint didn’t speak. He still looked uneasy about the idea of killing a kid, but the spearman had convinced him enough not to act. The spearman raised his weapon, and the Saint simply looked away.
See no evil? What a coward. He would not even dare watch as his companion struck me down, yet he was supposed to be a Saint. It was ridiculous. But at least he managed to buy me enough time.
I was already kneeling by my mom’s body, when their conversation ended. I would save my mom even if the spearman skewered me. I would have been fine with that, as long as my mom lived. Raising the potion over the wound, I tipped it over—
The spearman threw his spear, it turned and a glowing red lance arced towards me, leaving behind a trail of red light. It moved fast. Faster than I could even turn over the potion. By the time a drop of healing potion exited the bottle, the spear shattered the bottle and went straight for my face. I was going to die before I could get more than a drop in.
I failed.
Time froze to a stop as despair settled into my very being. I was going to die, and I couldn’t even save my mom. Everything I did was pointless. Every attempt I made to protect my mom— every attempt I made to save her— all of it was pointless.
As the spear came at me, I tried to blink. I knew I would die before I could even close my eyes, but I tried to do it anyways. It was not a conscious decision, it was something out of instinct. So I blinked.
Darkness filled my vision for a moment, and when I opened my eyes, everything was dark. At first, I thought I had died, that the spear killed me so quick I never even felt it. But when my eyes adjusted to the lack of light, I saw flames.
Fire. Pure black flames swirled all around me. It absorbed the light from its surroundings, and disintegrated everything it touched. When it came into contact with the ground, it did not burn it, the ground was simply just gone.
The fire consumed everything, and I heard what sounded like a scream for a brief moment, as the fire engulfed the spearman. In an instant, he was dead.
The Saint did not instantly die like his companion did. Instead, a golden aura protected him as the flames came into contact with him. The light shimmered, and cracks immediately formed all around the mana crystal on his chest.
The Saint noticed this, and hundreds of golden lines formed throughout his body. Golden flames erupted around him, fighting back against the black fire that attacked him. The golden flames barely put up a fight, being destroyed the moment they appeared. But it still gave him enough of a barrier to survive for now.
At first, I thought that somehow I did this. That somehow, I casted this spell. But looking around, it was clear that I did not. The black flames ate everything between me and the Saint. It was too powerful to be anything I could possibly do, and neither did I remember doing anything. I looked around, searching for the person who could possibly cast such powerful magic, when the thought quickly vanished.
I looked down, and my mom was gone. I panicked, thinking that the flames must have destroyed my mom’s body. I immediately felt emotions welling up inside of me, when a calmness suddenly enveloped me. I looked to see what the source of this feeling was, and saw two arms, wrapped around me.
My mom stood behind me, hugging me.
"It’s ok, Melas. It’s ok."
I closed my eyes, and I smiled.
It was a miracle.
***
Aria stood with her daughter, embracing her as the storm of black flames raged behind her back.
The Flames of Hell. It was one of the
