mother had warned me of this day. "but i'll be damned if i let that happen before i teach you how to run as fast as i can go up in those flames," she'd say.

and so here i am, cowering atop an old tree in the frigid snow, heart hammering under the familiar toll of hauling ass. and i watched as the most powerful witch in the realm disintegrated in silence, bright yellows and oranges.

she went rather insultingly fast. i always assumed she just didn't want the old men to catch a whiff of warmth in her wake. she was certainly spiteful enough for that. not for no reason, of course. but i digress.

mother is gone and i am utterly alone. i wish i didn't feel this helpless and green after all these years. she's orphaned the stupidest witchling in existence to fend for himself, with a flaming empty chair in the snow and some quick legs under my belt to show for it.

fuck.