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Witch Hunts: A Fictional Narrative

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It tasted like winter from under his breath as his sallow existence blistered with heat against each broken bone that lay jagged inside my skin. I ached for his warmth as my blood spilled cold, straddled between the cold tethers of the swirling mirror, and a world that would no longer hold me. “Hold on,” he instructed through his crippled infrastructure. His rugged voice scraped the inner portions of my heart. It swept through the wind like a slit in the veil, gently moving you through. “I am so sorry,” a stream of red carried my apology to him. “I didn’t know that you would….” I trembled. “That we would…” Our memories shattered against the stretch of diminishing breath. “You need to go. You’re running out of time.” “Maker, NO,” he nearly roared. …show more content…

Cullen scooped me to his chest, pushing me against the brash metal of under armor. The sheer weight of him had grown immense. “JORDAN, I FOUND HER!” my eyes flushed left. “I AM FINALLY GOING TO FUCKING KILL THAT LITTLE BITCH!” He cheered as if he’d finally won the hunt. “Cullen,” I begged, scraping against the blackened asphalt. “GO!” I attempted to push. “NOW!” “MAKER, I am not just going to leave you here—with them,” he asserted firmly. I could feel the mirror closing behind him. All the cerulean swirls losing their magic as my blood spilled out from underneath me, into the wet, stone below. “Yes, Cullen…” Silence “You are,” I cried. I was lost, but Thedas was not. There was still time. He could still save them… With the last of my remaining strength, I hurdled Cullen through the Eluvian by the shoulders. His eyes intently fearful as they eclipsed into the wash of silvery liquid swirling behind me into worlds unknown. I caught a faint scream of distemper before the swirls returned to glass… I imagined him clawing that Eluvian from the other side, with both hands on each side of the pane—shaking the glass. Goodbye

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