Becoming Prodigal

I’m ahead of the game this time! Well, not by much, but I have my response to this week’s #SwiftFicFriday done with several hours to spare rather than cutting it as close as I usually do. We had a great prompt this time – bastion. After reading here, please do stop by to see what others did for this prompt, too!

Becoming Prodigal

The small girl paced around her well-appointed rooms. An older woman sat by the window overlooking a tranquil lake.

“Estara, please, I must go; this is no longer where I belong.” Tears slipped down the girl’s face.

Estara sighed. “I have told you many times, Renelle, you cannot ever leave this place. You are magic’s last bastion. It will cease to exist if anything happens to you.

Renelle threw up her hands. “Is my magic of value locked in this splinter world? If all I do is sit here, why protect it? Tranama isn’t gaining anything by this.”

Image by alan9187 from Pixabay

“Tranama will gain nothing when they kill you for being different and magic will die.” Estara rose and left the room, ending the long-standing argument.

As the door closed, Renelle snatched her slipper off her foot and threw it. The slipper bounced off the door to land harmlessly on the floor. She repeated her action with her other slipper. Then Renelle stormed to the window to stare out, her frustration sending tremors through her.

Across the lake, Renelle could see the glowing blue seam between this splintered pocket and Tranama. It tantalized her, being so close and yet so far. Over the last month, pressure grew in her to leave this place, becoming a physical ache. Renelle understood Estara had dedicated herself to protecting Renelle from The Purging, but the same insight told Renelle she could no longer hide.

Then a thought struck her. She gathered a few belongings into a backpack, left a note on her bed, and climbed out of her window.

“Forgive me, please.” Her whisper sounded loud to her as she set off toward the door into the real world.

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