Work Text:
***
A falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes
I screamed aloud as it tore through them
And now it's left me blind
***
The night was chilly, icy even. Although it was the end of June, Bloom’s fingers were cold to the bone. She shivered but her sweatshirt held her passably warm. It had begun to rain, right at the beginning of the afternoon, and they had spent the rest of the day plotting a new plan. Without reinforcements, from the witches and the fairies, it was almost impossible to take Furlong down.
She thought of Bianca and Eithea, Stella and Sky, Beatrix and her gang. She wanted her friends close in her hour of need, and yet, she couldn’t consciously wish them to come and die for her. She wanted the world back as it had been before she had left it. And she wanted life to be, not ashamed or secluded, but open and lively. She wanted the witches and the fairies to be united, if not possibly one folk.
She shook the bracelet at her left arm. It dangled nicely. She didn’t need it now but it reminded her about Ariola and Josh. Huh, she thought to herself. A while ago he had fought with her, and maybe he had wished her to hell. The way he had looked at her in the hotel room. And yet, he had been nothing but friendly and a true gentleman. Could it be she had been wrong all along with so many people? No. She couldn’t let doubt past her convictions. She needed all her strength to carry out the task she had entrusted to herself.
The silent rain poured down slowly, collecting in small rivulets and puddles. It was all wet and clammy, and the night was very dark, with no stars and no moon shining. Heavy clouds hung low in the sky, and the only existent light was that of the illumination of the castle’s outer perimeter. No other noise could be heard, it was eerily still. And even now, there were no sign of specialists or any armed forces patrolling around the school. Unthinkable to Farah’s or even Rosalind’s time.
Bloom’s breath shortened as she approached the direct grounds. She stopped in the shadow cast by one of the tallest trees in Alfea, an ancient chestnut tree, and listened carefully. But safe for the rain dropping sternly on the gravel of the path skirting the castle and on the stones surrounding the area, she heard nothing. Not even the nightingales were in the mood to sing, as it seemed.
She swallowed and scurried to the back of the castle, to the canteen. She knew Doris always kept a second key under one of the flower pots on the window sill outside the canteen, and if she weren’t totally wrong...
She smiled into the night. Stretching her hand and not carrying about the pouring rain, she found the little piece of metal sticking right there where it should, under the saucer of a geranium. As it seemed, the new cook loved plants just as much as the old lady had.
Bloom turned the key inside the hole and, listening a last time at the nightly noises, stepped into the backroom of the canteen. There she cautiously closed the door behind her, turned the key in the hole again, and kept the key in her pocket. She turned around in the dark and looked in the pocket of her jeans for the little torch lamp she had saved from the fire. She clicked it on and soon enough, a pale halo illuminated the surroundings. She kept it low, thumb on the button, in case she needed to turn it down immediately.
She followed the design of the kitchen to end up in the front refectory. She rounded the distribution counter and padded silently to the big front doors. A hand on the handle – she kept her breath – but it gave in. Releasing the air in her lungs, she stepped out and took care to close the door behind. She walked past the dark and sullen corridor, the rain pouring more heavily on the glass windows now. As if Alfea wanted to cover her traces, accomplice of her plan. Thunder growled outside, lightning stroke and tore the skies. A storm was brewing.
Without losing more time, Bloom moved lithely forward. With a smile only she could feel in the blackness of the winding corridor, she remembered her training and was truly proud of her flexibility. She dodged a shadow, flattened against the wall, made a roll, to finally land safely on her feet. Checking in her surroundings once more, she advanced corridor after corridor to a passageway she knew too well by now.
Everything was dark. The passage to the antechamber of the headmaster’s office was empty. The half-pitched window banged from time to time due to the strong wind outside. Funnily enough, every door was open and Bloom had no difficulty in getting in.
Three steps down. Three steps up.
She stood in front of the milk glass door of the headmaster’s office. Her office. Bloom laid a hand on the handle, once more. And once more – it gave in.
A chill crept over her arms. This was too easy.
She opened the door and got inside. Although she remembered fondly every detail of the interior, at Farah’s time, she didn’t lose time checking her surroundings now. But even so, something stroke her. With horror she looked up and…
“The books… he took all the books away. That putrid son of a bitch! He will pay for that,” Bloom murmured under her breath. She was sure no one had heard her but she felt the need to say it out loud. She looked around at the gallery, and even in the loft, only half of the manuscripts had been kept. The rest of the empty space had been filled with contemptuous pictures of that sad little ass’s face. That, or sculptures of some questionable taste. All in all, the place had lost its coziness.
Bloom shook her head and reached the shelves on the left side effortlessly. That arsehole had collected the couch and the armchairs and stored them somewhere else. She let her eyes softly land on the double doors leading to the private quarters of what had once been Farah’s apartment. A shiver ran down her spine. She didn’t want to imagine what he had done to it.
Lightning stroke the room through the alcoves and brought her back to the present. She turned out her flashlight and stuck it in her pocket. Bringing the palms of her hands together to her lips, she thought fast.
“Okay, Bloom, you can do this. Remember. Just – remember.”
She shook the tension out of her body and stood ramrod straight in front of the bookcase. She looked at the residual tomes and saw – nothing. Worse, she felt nothing.
“Okay, maybe I should just relax,” she pressed under her breath. Somehow, being in Farah’s nearness reassured her. And made her nervous all the same. On the other hand, she hadn’t lost one thought about where Luther Furlong lived. For what it mattered he could have a private pension in Blackbridge, she didn’t care.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on the moment. Just like Farah had showed her, she started her breathing exercises, hands on her belly. Slowly but gradually, tension left her body. She was alone in the dark of the headmaster’s office and no one was there. She was alone. She was alone. Like a mantra, she repeated the sentence and fell into a kind of trance, all on her own, the rumbling thunder and the crisp lightning the only disturbances.
A lightning tore at the ceiling and Bloom jerked together. How long had she stood there? She had totally forgotten about time. Her eyes searched the shelves and like a miracle she found the clock that Farah loved so much, encompassed into the wood. Tick, tock. Comforting. It was way past one o’clock in the morning. Which meant, she had been standing half an hour. Her sweatshirt was partially dry indeed, as was her short hair.
A new, particularly strong thunder bolt roared at once, and she turned around. And then…
“Good evening, young lady.”
A dark voice. Sleek hair combed back. A dark gown. And eyes like black pearls, shining in the dark. Furlong was sitting at his desk, arms crossed and waiting, a little smirk at the corner of his lips.
Bloom gulped. Of all moments, this was the worst she could think of.
“Having reminiscences of past times, or just bad dreams?” He smiled unctuously.
She hated him. She hated him immediately. She already did, but this conversation topped it all and only confirmed what she thought of him. And that was nothing good. Nothing at all.
He stood up and rounded the desk where piles of papers had pride of place. For some reason she found it nice and comforting that he had chores like a ‘normal’ headmaster. But as he advanced on her, she shook it off.
He stopped, some two meters away from her, just in the middle of the way to the apartment. She looked down at his feet. He wore faux-leather manly slippers, black pajamas and a dark blood red dressing gown. Though he looked tired, Bloom couldn’t deny him a certain sex-appeal. No, that was disgusting. And yet.
He took one step, quirking a brow. Within a second, he was standing next to her, smiling lightly. “Here.” He stretched out his hand and caught a little book Bloom had never seen before. A ribbon stuck between the pages. “I guess you have been looking for this, haven’t you?” A pause, while his eyes riveted on hers. “Miss Peters?”
Bloom’s blood froze in her veins. Fuck.
“Don’t worry. I have been waiting for you all these years. And as I thought, you came back on the scene of the crime, so to say. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Bloom kept her mouth shut. She couldn’t say a word. She glared at him instead.
“Please, don’t be afraid. Take it.” He offered her the book that she reflexively took. “I think you will find it very – informative.” He smiled and nodded slowly. Appreciatively, almost. Then, he turned on his heels.
Bloom blinked several times, holding the little facsimile in her hand. Hey, she was the most reputable fire fairy in the Otherworld and that guy, the most despicable man of the Otherworld, had just – had just done what, exactly?
He stood in the doorframe to the apartment. So, he lived there. Blasphemy. She shook her head. “Furlong…” She growled between her clenched teeth.
“Yes, Miss Peters?”
She looked up and clenched her fingers around the little book. “I am going to kill you.”
“Oh, really?” He sounded amused. “Please check with my assistant in the morning when my schedule allows it. I am a particularly busy man. As you can imagine.”
“You fucking son of a-“
Bloom had just gathered enough energy for a leap and a strangulation as the door to the apartment just opened and a young girl stuck her curly head through the frame.
“Dad? Are you up? Who are you talking to? Why is it so dark?”
Bloom’s energy brought her one step upfront before she stopped herself. To kill a full grown-up man was one thing. To be a murderer. But to do it in front of his offspring was another.
“Everything is okay, my little dove. See, this young lady wanted to leave.”
“Did she?” The girl made a little pout, yawning. She was a teen, maybe fourteen or fifteen years old.
“Did I?” Bloom question-answered.
“Miss –“, he left her name open, “I think you are better off making an appointment with my secretary tomorrow morning. I guarantee you she is proficiency when it comes to administrative business. But,” he added, starting to turn around, “I guess you already knew.” He smiled once more, hand on the door pane. “Please? When you leave, shut the doors behind you? This castle is quite windy. Thank you very much.” And with that, he just left and closed the door.
Bloom was much too shattered inside to remember anything about how to open the hidden passage. If anything at all, she definitely lacked the necessary calm needed to concentrate on the element. Telekinesis had been Farah’s specialty and best practiced while cooperating with air. Farah was so good at using different elements, she had certainly had no problem to command the book shelf. But for Bloom, that was a whole different story.
She stuck the little book under her sweater and hurried out. There was no use in staying longer.
***
The stars, the moon
They have all been blown out
You've left me in the dark
No dawn, no day
I'm always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart
And in the dark
I can hear your heartbeat
I tried to find the sound
But then it stopped
And I was in the darkness
So darkness I became
***
Monday, 5th of September, 2021
The subject has entered the grounds and reported to my office. The girl is a fire fairy.
As long expected she is afraid of her powers and has been reluctant to accept the terms and conditions of our institution. She wants to learn fast and control that which does not allow astringency or speed.
She likes to boast with the technology of the First World. She has no idea.
She has been consigned to the West Wing Suite, commonly called Winx Suite, with T.H., A. from A., S. of S. and M.
The corpse of a dead man was found on the grounds. At first we thought of a wild animal but I recognized the signs immediately. A BO has been lurking on the grounds, cause unknown.
The girl has escaped to the First World, I don’t know how. I will have to research her methods. It is impossible for a girl her age to use such potent magic without an ally.
To her character: she is light-headed, impetuous and ignorant of the danger of magic. Moreover, she is easily talked into trouble. Or that may be a genuine character trait of hers. TBC.
Later in the night, I traced her back to the abandoned fabric hangar at the border. The girl was there, as was a BO. I managed to capture the creature and save the hot-head.
The BO is kept in a safe place for interrogation. This is unheard of. BO. Back in Alfea.
PS: The girl is fascinating. I noticed a force oozing from her as soon as she put a foot on the grounds. A quick look at the entrance porch from my window confirmed my sensation as she looked up. I don’t know what it is. I have to be cautious.
Tuesday, 6th of September, 2021
The girl shows talent. Unfortunately it stays latent.
To her character: she is impatient, instable in her emotions, and prone to negativity. Given orders, she reacts impulsively with anger. Anger seems to be her driving force. If she is not taught magic properly, she can be a massive destructive force. Honing in fire as an element is an imperative.
She is easily distracted.
I fear something else is hidden down below the surface, like anxiety and lack of self-confidence. She is eager to please and yet she fails to give herself a chance.
Proceeded to the interrogation of the BO. More danger is to come. But why now? It has been said that Rosalind was relentless.
… I don’t want to blame the girl. But this cannot be a coincidence.
The girl found out she’s a changeling. She was out of herself. Her voice cracked and her eyes watered with tears full of anger. She was on edge. It was plain to see she wanted to trust me. To my (later) dismay, I might have been too cautious on that one.
My protectiveness did not affect her positively. She confronted me. It was plain to see she does not want to be treated as a child. And yet, some pieces of information are not to be revealed to her. I am afraid the truth might shake her deep inside.
She has that particular, her very own charming way, to bring me to the brink of politeness. And that had nothing to do with that shrewdness she displays or her American roots. If I am not careful, I could lose my temper, and that would be a disaster.
As I corrected her I saw the look of defiance in her eyes. She is a fighter. But she needs to be tamed.
She was very scared about not knowing who her real parents are, or were. Another reason why I kept silent about her origins, something she didn’t accept either.
I should write this with objectivity, but something bothers me about her. I am starting to feel a movement in my guts, and it is not my bowel. She speaks to me from the deep. She is very different from the other pupils. And still, a teenager, little more than a child.
Was impertinent as I told her, answers will come in due time. She mumbled: “Cryptic and vague, like everything else in this place.” She thought I wouldn’t listen. I reckon I used some air magic to enhance the intensity of her words.
But even without, I would have anticipated her reply. As I wrote before, in many ways she is just a teenager. In many others, however, she is a force of nature to be cautious about. In the wrong hands… I don’t want to imagine what the consequences would be.
But as long as she is kept in chains, the girl will be safe.
Wednesday, 7th of September, 2021
There is not one day passing when I don’t think of her. Her appearance on the grounds throws new concepts and new questions. She is nosy, insecure and her ignorance borders on arrogance. I wonder how long I will be able to secure the perimeter with her inside before she breaks out or sets the woods ablaze. She seems impervious to counseling or nurturing words.
Saul has been gravely wounded by another BO. Fortunately, Ben was able to concoct one of his potions out of Zanbaq flowers. This is just a band-aid. If the BO that injured Saul cannot be found and killed, Saul will be the next victim. And I cannot lose him.
I am afraid, without Queen Luna’s armed forces, Alfea will not stand their grounds. BOs do not roam the Alfean woods without a reference.
Thursday, 8th of September, 2021
Bloom managed to light up a kindle. She was proud like a puppy. I reveled in the marvel of her eyes.
It was not my place, and yet, I felt pride like I haven’t in a long time. I want her to harness her powers and grow. She deserves it.
Beatrix Daniels on the contrary is a spoiled little brat. Oh, brilliant, no doubt about that. But too confident, bordering on arrogance.
Fascinating, that two girls the same age could be that different.
Marco made a progress update. He is tracking down the BO with Noura and his squad. After a brief checkup on their situation it was plain to hear danger war growing near. Honestly speaking I did not have a clue. But sending graduates, almost kids still, in such a battle, made me feel bad. It stank to the heavens and I was nervous. And for good reason: there is more than one BO out there.
Saul is still ill. Which means the BO that wounded him is not the one that died.
The girl… Bloom… She found out about the Light Battalion and Rosalind.
She was drunk and should have been in bed. But she might have found the courage to confront me all the more. She shoved me her cell phone under the nose and claimed the woman on the picture, Rosalind, had appeared in her vision where she had been put in safety in the First World.
I tried to calm her but she was adamant. I reckon I used my authority to abuse of her trust and lie to her. Rosalind is not dead. But heavens forbid, she should never know.
She left angrily.
I wonder why she does not put such stubbornness into study and practice of magic, instead boring her pretty little nose in things that should remain top secret. At that rate, she will end up deader than I wish for. Does this come along with being an American girl? Or just… a lonely one…?
Later on…
I surprised Bloom and Sky in the woods. S. of S. was there too. I made a promise to protect her and I will, even if I have to give my life for her. She is a student too, as much as Bloom is. And her mother is our most precious ally – when she is in a good mood, that is.
However – the girls did a real good job of a team work.
After that, Saul was healed.
Later on: I told Silva and Ben that Bloom now knows about Rosalind but that both women can never meet. I shared my first impressions. It is indeed quite remarkable how Bloom manifested her powers in such a short time. Her magic is erratic and uncontrolled and yet, she has the potential to be one of the most powerful fairies the Otherworld has ever known. I am afraid that if Rosalind calls her, she might get caught up in a net of intricacies and manipulations I could not save her from.
As I know firsthand of.
Friday, 9th of September, 2021
Callum was found dead this morning. Someone used nettle amalgam to access the underground vaults through the undercroft entrance. Archaic fairy knowledge it is which leads me to believe Callum didn’t open the chamber of secrets on his own but might as well have been a collateral damage in the whole story. Another, more bothering, piece of information. It seems someone intelligent is looking for historical facts where – wait. Could it be Bloom? Although her powers are overly intense, and we have, by far, not even yet started to imagine the full scope of her abilities, I cannot believe she tried. She possesses a raw diamond in her heart, but she lacks the profundity of academic knowledge. No. This was the act of a singular and more obsessed personality, someone whose recklessness is not above murder.
I cannot believe this is a mere coincidence. I have to keep a closer eye on Bloom and her acquaintances, which scores it down to eight to ten pupils. She might be in danger.
To her character: The girl has remarkably blended in school’s daily life. Although rumors came to my ears that she is struggling with her very nature as a changeling. I am truly afraid she starts untrusting me. This would be catastrophic. Although I am not prone to emancipated emotional outbursts, it feels like a distressful situation right now. I tried to protect her as a teacher and mentor and thought I could hold on the stratagem a while longer. But events are multiplying at such a quick pace I am not sure anymore if we have time to prepare as we should.
Furthermore, Bloom is only a child, a young fairy whose abilities have just budded. And like a rose bush in full blossom, her fire powers are inexplicably strong. All I know and read about cannot serve me. I will have to dig deeper.
Later on today Queen Luna paid us a visit and addressed the whole assembly of the students. She didn’t mince her words and spoke openly about at least 5 BOs on the loose in Solaria. Although she considers the threat “serious”, she did not mention a countermeasure, at least to reassure the people. How should I be surprised? She does not really seem to grasp the implications her words do have on the audience.
In the afternoon I had a private séance with her child. The girl is truly gifted, and shows great talent. She is older than Bloom, if I may compare, and more accustomed to her magic. It was a tragic incident that one where she purposefully blinded her best friend Ricki last year, though it seems to me it happened by accident, and needed to come back to Alfea to rehabilitate her powers. We managed to control her emotions, keep focus on her intent and thereby create a beautiful little rainbow. Though it may seem ludicrous to some, magic builds upon self-confidence in one’s own abilities. I know Luna from our student years, and I don’t envy the girl. I really understand the pressure that comes with noble tasks. But magic is to be treated like any other skill, like speech or walking, or playing the piano. It takes time, discipline and much motivation to keep on. More than that, magic is fluidity, flexibility and inconstancy, like a wild animal that fathoms to be tamed. Wanting results too quickly and imposing too strong a hand actually backfires the process. Luna’s aptitude was her birth gift, granted by forces beyond imagination. However, Stella is not her mother, something the latter lacks understanding of. I do not care if she finds my methods unworthy. But to denigrate her child in front of another authority is not only tactless, it is most of all cruel. I do not agree with that.
She rules with fear and demonstrates her might whenever she can. She was no different back in the days. I can only imagine what Stella had to endure those few moments when her mother encompassed her in her vision. It must have been terrifying. The girl is not only traumatized by her own deeds, her mother is no support at all.
I ought to be more objective, yet it seems utterly impossible to me to reel in and stay quiet when children are being misused and factually abused, whoever the perpetrator may be. As such, it hurts me double to be the witness of such violence, though tolerated as domestic and thus, non-existing. I burn inside every time someone raises a hand on a child of mine, no matter whose it is. I guess I will never quite stop fighting for the kids as long as I live.
“Appearances matter…”
I hate to say it and yet I have to admit Luna is right about one thing. Being the dean of the Alfean College for Fairies brings a lot of responsibilities no one is ready to accept or even understand. One of them being – no, I should not write it. This is my sacred duty. Different times, different pacts.
I hope I am doing the right thing.
Stella was taken back to Solaris.
Addendum:
Bloom showed great worry about the runic limiters we used on Beatrix Daniels. The fact she was spotted in the East Wing and made herself an accomplice did not rattle her more than that, and does not lower my esteem of the girl either. In fact, it only reinforces my first impression of her fighting spirit. Though she is, as it seems, mainly to be found where trouble simmers.
She seems to have an overly uncommon sense of protectiveness about the Daniels offspring. To me, the latter might develop into a very potent fairy, but if she stays on the wrong track, she will slip off the grid and end where no one might be able to help her.
As I addressed any possible injury she might have been subjected to, Bloom defended her. And she lied to me, dismissing their extravaganza as a joyride, nothing to worry about. The girl is cunning.
She bites. And licks. Ferocious like a lioness, caring for her pack. An interesting thought. For what I gathered as an Intel later on the phone with her parents, she did not have many friends at school in Gardenia. Here, she seems to make a fresh start and open up to many fellow schoolmates. I shouldn’t be bothered and yet something is off-beat.
She challenges me. She wants to make me pay for not having told her all the secrets.
And something is telling me she is going to need a good dentist soon if she wants to learn the ropes and cut her delicate little teeth on the matters at hand.
Sunday, 10th of September, 2021
BD is a tough nut and quite a brat, to say the least. She is not as charming as Bloom and loves to play cat-and-mouse games with me, or any authority, as it seems. I would never proceed to a mind sweep on any student, but she was quite dramatic about me interrogating her. To any outsider it would have looked like a torture, and I cannot deny the fact that Saul bought into the performance. She is very talented and seems to nurture a particular kink for the dark side of the force. She knows how to manipulate people and situations to get where she wants to. No doubt she might be a great second hand to anyone with a twisted mind.
However I sense a strong kind of need for justice too. Something is awry though she is strong. She wants revenge and will do anything to be right. A crack in time, a wound of the past. I hope she does not find out about Aster Dell.
Alfea is preparing for war. All means are justified. I hope Bloom never finds out I asked Musa to read her emotions. Right after that incident with Beatrix, I need to know on whose side she is. As a matter of fact, Bloom a loose cannon could be more devastating than a whole army of burned ones.
She is a prick. If she thinks she does not matter to me. She does. Just like any other student does.
But I cannot allow her to go sideways as a loner and choose her own camp, I need her on our side.
Saul reported about Sky’s infiltrating activities. The boy is not amused, to say the least. But war is war and it is imperative that Bloom never finds out what – or who – is being restrained under my office. Saul says Sky will keep his promise. But I doubt the boy is strong enough. Bloom is an exotic little flower, full of life and power. She exudes passion and intensity, although I cannot describe what exactly. Being in the Otherworld seems to liberate her from her fears and inhibitions. She seems to find the courage she lacked so far to bud into the fairy she was always meant to be.
Marco has been injured, Noura is dead. We are losing more and more valiant and brave ones, day by day. Atop of that, Luna will not send any reinforcement troops to support us. She has abandoned us.
It is now more than important that Bloom keeps still. However I have a feeling the girl will be into more trouble than I wish for. It gives me headaches to think about it. I am afraid I won’t be able to protect her adequately.
An utter feeling of anxiety clams around my heart when such thoughts creep past my neck. I can’t explain. It is deep down, as if anchored in my soul. I have the bad feeling that one day Bloom will be the end of me.
…
Bloom stopped reading. For a moment she had to close the booklet and breathe deep. Of course. This was no bedtime stories for little children. Farah had written down every single thought she had had about the redhead ever since the latter had put a foot on Alfea’s gravel.
The entries went on, in Farah’s italic and pristine handwriting, until the booklet was full, ending on November the 5th. A few days later, Rosalind had sent her friends away and ordered them into forced cohabitation.
It didn’t change the fact that Farah had meticulously recorded Bloom’s magical evolution and her integration in Alfea since day one, and that Bloom felt more than naked. Although it only depicted the first days, Bloom couldn’t believe it. She didn’t know if she was to be happy or scared about it.
Not only she had been submitted to Farah’s observations, her friends had been to. And most disturbingly, the latter had been coerced in spying on her – all this time. Well, time had taught her differently, as friendships had developed and trusted bonds of all sorts had flourished.
Another thought flashed through her mind. One that was far more disturbing than anything Farah had done to her, one she couldn’t push away anymore. Furlong had handed her out this notebook. As she had gotten to know Farah, the older woman had probably gone on writing more of these. About their time together and Rosalind’s torments. God only knew what comments Farah had scribbled down and in how many books.
At once Bloom felt bad. She was not only sour about the little trust the mind fairy had showed in her presence, though their living together had brought them closer than ever, she radically felt unsecure and put on display. Those were private writings, and Furlong had desecrated them by finding and reading them.
Bloom lay on her bed at Harvey’s, scrutinizing the ceiling. She had been able to sneak back without making a noise, what she thanked her training for. She had left her soaked sweatshirt to dry on the back of the chair, facing the room radiator. She felt lost, empty and cold, the blanket she was tucked underneath not spending enough warmth. Instead it felt clammy and her feet refused to unfreeze. She stood up and went to the window. She looked out at the heavy clouds. For once, she wished the stars to shine and show her some guidance, but the dark ceiling kept showing blackness only.
Furlong knew everything about her. And he knew about things that should never have been told about. He had a big advantage over her, and she knew no possible help to come and rescue her.
***
Bloom woke up sweating and panting, needing a moment to find her bearings back. She had fallen asleep and managed a few hours, only to be confronted to some extremely strenuous situations. She had been tossing and turning, escaping one dream to fall into the next, one worse than the other, an escalation of nightmares with no end in sight. She just hadn’t digested the revelations of the previous night. Her feelings were all mixed up and she didn’t know what she had been in the eyes of the mind fairy all this time.
“Bloom?”
She turned her head. Terra had entered the room and was standing in the doorframe.
“Are you okay? I heard you scream. Did you have a nightmare?”
Surreptitiously the redhead pushed the little notebook under her pillow. She sat up on the bed and Terra sat down next to her. Bloom’s breath was still short as if she had had one of her sleep combustion nightmares. Only that this one was a simple one. Well, if one could say that.
“Bloom?”
A cold hand came to touch her forefront and for a moment she really thought she was back in the private apartments of the headmistress. A sudden tug at her heart let her choke on her breath, feeling the void that the woman she loved had left behind. It wasn’t Terra’s place to check on her temperature. It was Farah’s. And by overstepping the boundaries and getting inside their nemesis’ quarters, she had endangered their whole plan.
She licked her lips and swallowed hard. “Terra?” She started, in a low voice.
“Yes? Tell me.”
A reassuring hand came to caress her back. Still, Bloom had to face the truth. Not like that time when she had set her parents’ home ablaze. It hadn’t been a gas pipe explosion. It had been her doings. And now was not the time to chicken out and be a coward. Their all existence was at stake.
“Terra?” She looked up at those genuinely concerned eyes, feeling the lovely pressure between her shoulders. The earth fairy smiled faintly. It was more painful than a shitstorm. “Terra…”
The latter nodded gently. “What happened, Bloom?”
The redhead swallowed, clenching her fists, her eyes riveted on the other woman’s orbs. “I… I think I did something really bad.” She paused, gathering all her strength, noticing Terra frowning a bit now. “I’m afraid I screwed up.”
***
I took the stars from my eyes and then I made a map
And knew that somehow I could find my way back
Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too
So I stayed in the darkness with you
***