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The first time Allura takes Shiro to the Marmora house, they’re met by a door slamming in their faces.
Which is just about what Shiro had expected, even if Allura had tried to be optimistic about the whole ordeal.
As a representative from one of the founding families on the council of magic, Allura’s responsibilities are many. And so when another founding family refuses help when the council agrees it’s needed, she gets stuck with the unfortunate task of trying to persuade them.
However, the Marmora clan has never been known to come easy, and Allura called for Shiro before she even attempted anything else.
Shiro and Allura went to the academy together, years ago. They were never very close at the time, but they were both natural leaders that the other students leaned on throughout their time there. Allura was strong willed, creative, and vibrant. Her following consisted of many driven witches with their heads held high, and she handled the difficulties that often come with such people gracefully.
Shiro herself attracted a much different group, even when she didn’t seek them out directly. It was often the troubled ones, the witches who struggled with finding their place in an extremely complicated, competitive and often prejudiced environment. She had some difficulty herself, after the accident when she was young, and having a mentor to help her ground herself had truly saved her then. All she wanted, after that, was to offer the same help and support to others.
So that’s what she did, and what she still does.
After graduating, it became her life’s work. Mentoring and teaching witches, young and old, with the goal to help them find comfort in themselves and their magic.
It’s not uncommon for people with magic to lose their footing and their focus, overwhelmed or frustrated with themselves or the world around them. Shiro has had the privilege to meet a dussin or so of extraordinary individuals who were just in need of some guidance, just in the seven years since she graduated.
And yet, she was nowhere prepared for what she’d face with Keith Kogane.
Modern myth about witches is just that; myth. But the Marmora family sure put some credibility to the stories of magical creatures living in haunted castles in the middle of nowhere. The house, which is more of a mansion than a house, really, is coming up on three hundred years old, the stone darkened with the years and giving it a somber, ominous appearance. The house stands on a hill, which rises from a sea of ancient forest that has been under the family’s protection ever since they bought the land centuries ago. It’s brimming with old, powerful magic, and it’s said that the entire family has a connection to its roots and its creatures in a way that no witches have achieved before.
Shiro heard so many stories, just the chance to visit the Marmora grounds is a thrill all on its own.
She just wishes it were under less mournful circumstances.
The current head of the Marmora clan, Krolia, lost her husband about a year back. It was a tragedy that was recognized by the entire community nationwide. But it soon became clear that the loss was far more severe than most could have expected, when it came to their daughter.
Keith Marmora Kogane has been a common household name for all her life, after Krolia broke family tradition when she decided to marry and start a family with someone without magic. It’s not uncommon at all, and never has been, but the founding families of the council have always lived by their own, stricter set of rules when it comes to carrying on the family name and preserving their magic.
There’s always a chance with mixed parents, that the children won’t have magic.
But Keith sure does. As a little girl already she proved powerful, maybe more so than anyone the community has seen in generations. But her magic had also turned out to be fickle, and unmanageable throughout her childhood. Keith had been homeschooled, as a way of keeping her safe.
In her teens, when the time to start considering the academy had come, she was stable. Excellent. Shiro had a charge who was attending the academy at the time when Keith arrived with the first years, and followed her progress with some interest. Like everyone else.
It was obvious there was some difficulty. Keith wasn’t like most other witches, and not just because she was more powerful. She had a temper, and communication issues. But where others saw a difficult, prickly young girl, Shiro recognized some signs she’d seen before. It was confirmed some time later, at one of the times Allura and herself happened to be in the same place and met for a drink.
“She got the diagnosis early,” Allura had said, stirring her fizzy cocktail with her straw. “Autism and magic can prove… challenging, and for Keith it most definitely has. Being so powerful and not being able to control it… It must be extremely burdensome.”
Following Keith’s development through the grapevine, Shiro heard the girl was doing very well. Four years at the academy passed with only minor incidents, as far as Shiro heard.
Until Keith’s father died.
At twenty years old, Keith had barely a year left at the school when it happened. As anyone would expect, she left for a while, to spend time with her remaining family and heal. But after she came back, she simply couldn’t reemerge herself. Couldn’t adapt or move forwards, too caught up in her grief.
She was sent back home after an incident that involved an uncontrolled fire and another student getting hurt by the flames.
At the time of Shiro and Allura’s first visit, six weeks have passed since then.
Krolia isn’t stupid, she knows very well that part of the council have wanted Keith taken into some sort of custody ever since she first lost control at a very young age. Someone else got hurt, then, too. A member of the council showing up with a complete stranger who is “willing to help” isn’t exactly something the head of Marmora house can be expected to jump on with a bright smile and open arms.
Allura is troubled by the response, pleading with Krolia through the closed door in an attempt to explain. But Shiro knows better than to push, pulling Allura along and back to the car.
It’s just as well, because the ravens that seem to guard the house have begun to move closer, foreboding and threatening in a way that sends chills down Shiro’s spine.
She was never very comfortable with birds.
○✤○
Despite the less than welcome first attempt, Shiro decides she has to at least try. Keith is struggling, grieving and lost. She’s lost her father and she’s been thrown out of school, after trying so hard to prove herself and remain in control. Shiro wants to help, and she truly believes she can do so.
She writes a letter, addressed to Krolia and Keith both. Keith is an adult, going to Krolia alone would be disrespectful towards Keith at best. But with her state being what it is, having Krolia involved does seem necessary.
She can only hope for a reply, and when nothing comes in the next couple of weeks, Shiro figures it won’t be happening. Allura has called and visited multiple times, pushing for Shiro to try again, growing more desperate. There’s something she isn’t saying, a secret kept within the council no doubt, but the things she does say are troubling.
It’s getting harder and harder to keep the voices wanting to take Keith away from her home at bay, and whatever is going on is being used as ammunition to force the young witch out of her home and away from her family.
Shiro doesn’t know how much more she can do to help, and she keeps telling Allura so, but to no avail.
Until one morning, Krolia calls.
Shiro packs a bag and is out the door within twenty minutes, and she arrives back at the Marmora property early that same afternoon. There, Krolia greets her this time, and invites her inside.
“I can’t get through to her,” Krolia says, pacing in front of the giant fireplace in the sitting room. Shiro is seated on an antique sofa, cradling a cup of coffee in her hands, watching her. “Her father always could. He knew exactly what to do, what to say to her. He was the anchor, and without him-”
She sighs, running a hand through already tousled locks. “She’s not the only one who is lost without him around.”
“Of course not,” Shiro chips in, using the same soothing tone she always does when she’s still getting the feel for a new charge and their loved ones. “He was a solid, vital part of both of your lives. It’s obvious you loved him very much.”
“My brother’s used to call him the eye of the storm,” there’s a faint upwards tug on the edge of her mouth, warmth drowning out some of the despair in her eyes. “Much like my daughter, I had what you might call an explosive kind of personality, when I was young. I still have a temper, I’ll admit, but Tex was… always, always able to bring me back to earth. He did the same for Keith. He didn’t have magic, but he still took on Keith’s training. Taught her to control and level herself, helped her understand her assignments where the tutors and teachers couldn’t.”
Shiro doesn’t get the chance to reply, as a tremor goes through the entire house. An erratic quake, like somebody’s picked the house up and shaken it like a child with a snow globe. Except when she looks around the room, everything is still. Nothing falls off the shelves, the surface on the coffee in her mug is flat. Yet, she can feel every ounce of herself move, somehow, and it’s the most unsettling feeling. Like there’s a big storm underneath her skin, and in her very soul.
She looks to Krolia, who has stepped back to support herself on the fireplace mantel. There’s discomfort, but no surprise in her expression, and Shiro understands.
“This is Keith?” Shiro asks, and finds even her voice comes out trembling. Krolia grunts, nods. “Can we do anything?”
“You won’t get close to her now, just let it pass. It never lasts long.”
Shiro hopes Krolia is right, because with every passing moment it’s like something gets dislodged in her mind, in her heart. Emotions and memories begin to swarm her head, and there’s a strong urge to let it out. To laugh, and cry. Scream.
She’s never felt magic like this before.
It takes another minute, at most, before a swooping feeling nearly forces her off the couch with the movement of a crashing wave. And then, as quickly as it came, the tremors are gone.
Shiro is left panting, and she feels the wetness of tears on her cheeks. Krolia doesn’t look much better, although more collected. It’s clearly something that has happened multiple times before, whatever it was.
Krolia looks at her as if she’s learned something, but she doesn’t speak.
“What the hell was that?” Shiro practically wheezes instead, setting her cup down with shaking hands.
“It used to happen sometimes, when she was just a little girl,” Krolia says softly, taking a framed photo from the mantel. She comes to sit down next to Shiro, angling the frame for Shiro to see. It’s an easy guess who the child and man in the photo are, both smiling at the camera. “Temper tantrums, for lack of a better word, when she was especially frustrated or confused. She had a hard time expressing her emotions and her thoughts, and somehow began to project her distress onto whoever was within range.”
Krolia rests the photo on her lap and leans back, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms.
“Tex taught her to level herself, and she didn’t have an episode for over seven years. Not until he died, and it all came rushing back. But she wasn’t this powerful, when she was little. It’s many times stronger now. I had to send the house staff away, weeks ago. It wasn’t safe or healthy for them to stay here anymore.”
She drops her hands from her face, and straightens in her seat before looking at Shiro again. Shiro holds her gaze.
“I can’t expect you to help, with reality being what it is. She isn’t in control now, and if you’d choose to stay, I can’t promise that she won’t… hurt you,” Krolia flinches at her own words, and Shiro feels a twitch to reach for her hand. “Not that she would mean to, never.”
“Of course not,” Shiro says with conviction. She doesn’t know Keith personally, but there has never been anything menacing about the girl Shiro remembers from the academy. “None of this is her fault, or yours. If you want me, I would really like to stay and give it a try.”
○✤○
They agree that Shiro should meet with Keith alone, the first time. Shiro doesn’t want it to seem like they’re ganging up on her, or make it seem in any way like an intervention or remind Keith of the threats coming from the council.
Still, it’s nerve wracking, knocking on Keith’s door, after what happened earlier. As much as she wants to help, she’s not keen to experience any of that again anytime soon.
The door opens after a long moment, starting with just a crack. The room beyond is dark, and so is the figure hovering in the stream of light coming from the hallway.
“Keith? Hi,” Shiro starts warmly. She learned long, long ago that it gets her nowhere to walk on her tiptoes when trying to connect to someone this way. “I’m Shiro.”
Another few seconds of silence, and then the door opens a little wider. Keith steps into the light, leaning on the doorframe and peering at Shiro from behind her bangs.
For a moment, Shiro is taken aback. Objectively, she knew that Keith isn’t a young girl anymore. She’s twenty years old, coming up on twenty one. Shiro knew this. But it’s been years since she’s spent time at the academy, and so Keith always remained a teenager in Shiro’s mind. Skinny, with wild shoulder length hair and plump cheeks. The woman standing in front of Shiro now is none of that.
Keith is still thin, but in a strong and toned kind of way. Her mother’s sharp jaw has come in, giving her a pointed and sophisticated facial structure. The hair is longer, caught in a messy braid from which it’s trying to escape, so at least something hasn’t changed.
Shiro has never been quite close enough to see her eyes before, though. Large and expressive, with a magical shine to their deep blue.
Even like this, in PJs and weeks of bad sleep clinging to her face and body language, she’s beautiful.
Breathtaking.
“Are you some kind of magical shrink?” Keith asks, sounding annoyed, and promptly drags Shiro’s mind back to where it’s supposed to be.
Which is not thinking about how attractive her new potential charge has become.
“Do I look like one to you?” Shiro counters, gesturing to herself. Dark jeans torn at the knee, sneakers, leather jacket thrown over her arm. The picture of casual.
“Books and covers, what do I know,” Keith mutters, and turns her back to Shiro. She half expects the door to slam in her face, but if anything, Keith pushes it open further as she walks back into her room. She turns the lights on, seemingly for Shiro’s benefit, and wraps herself up in the messy sheets waiting for her return.
Shiro stands at the door, watching carefully as Keith bundles herself up, just her head peeking out of the pile of blankets and pillows. She raises a brow at Shiro.
“Are you going to just stand there, or did you want something?”
“I guess I didn’t expect to be greeted with welcome,” Shiro says honestly and steps into the room. She leaves the door open an inch, and moves to sit on the desk chair facing the bed. Keith hums, shrugs.
“If my mom let you in, she probably thinks you can help.” Keith doesn’t look at Shiro anymore, but fiddles with the frayed edge of one of her blankets, eyes trained on the movement.
“You trust her,” Shiro says, happy to hear it. “That’s good.”
“She has good judgment,” Keith confirms. For a bit, she looks like she’ll say more, but no words come out.
“But she can’t help you,” Shiro supplies, leaning forward in her seat and resting her forearms on her knees. “Is that it?”
“I guess.”
“Do you want help, Keith?”
Keith doesn’t answer, but Shiro sees the gears turning in her head with the way her brows bunch.
“I’d like to try to help you, if you want,” Shiro continues. “When I was young, something terrible happened. It really sent me spiraling, and I didn’t know how to get back to normal or what normal even was anymore. Or if I wanted to go back. I was very angry and confused, and my magic was weak at best. That stressed me out, and things got even worse. Until someone helped me, Keith.”
At the sound of her name, Keith glances at Shiro.
“How?”
Shiro smiles. “He was my mentor. He took the time to work with me, one on one. He talked to me, challenged me, taught me. Lucky me, he’s also a renowned alchemist, and he made me this-”
She gives Keith a little wave of her prosthetic hand. Keith’s eyes go round, watching intently now. Shiro turns her hand in the air, muttering a quick spell under her breath. In her open palm, a sphere of swirling fog forms and spins, waiting to send a gust of air whichever way Shiro tosses it.
“It was an added bonus,” Keith watches as Shiro’s metallic fingers close around the sphere until it fizzes out with a chilly whoosh. “-but his real gift to me was that he taught me how to understand myself and my magic when I had lost my way. So now, I try to do that same thing for other people.”
“How did you do that?” Keith ignores the life lesson part of Shiro’s speech, scooting forward on the bed with her eyes trained on Shiro’s hand. “How do you channel magic through it when it’s not your flesh and blood?”
Shiro stands up, approaching Keith slowly as if not to spook her. She offers her hand for Keith to examine, and the other witch’s hands dart out of the blanket pile like arrows. She takes Shiro’s hand in both of her own, touching and turning it gently. When she ghosts the tips of her finger across the palm, Shiro twitches, and Keith gasps.
“You felt that, didn’t you?” Keith stares up at Shiro’s face, then back to the prosthetic. “How is that possible?”
“It’s proof of what determination and control can do for you,” Shiro says, and smiles mischievously, when Keith meets her eye again. “I can help you find that too.”
○✤○
Shiro should have known it wouldn’t be that easy, when the first meeting with Keith went as well as it did.
Keith is straight forward, and wants to get better, that much was made clear. But this isn’t just a witch who is lost, insecure or confused. It’s a girl who has lost her anchor, a parent, and her best friend in one. It’s a girl with more raw magic than Shiro has ever encountered before.
So the fact Keith wants so badly to do well doesn’t make much difference, once her emotions flare.
Which they do, a lot.
“Keith, breathe!”
It’s been three days and Shiro is standing in the courtyard on the Marmora grounds, where she’s been getting settled to work with Keith full time, and flames are licking at her feet. Ten feet ahead, Keith’s eyes are glassy, sparks shooting from the tips of her fingers as the fire surrounding her burns the fallen leaves from the old chestnut tree towering over them.
Most witches have an element to which they are more connected than the rest. Shiro does best with air magic, even if elemental magic in general isn’t something she’s chosen to focus on. And Keith, of course, had to be a fire witch.
An incredible one, able to conjure fire out of nothing even in a place as cold and damp as outdoors in Maine in October.
It’s something Shiro will be gushing over, later, when Keith’s flames aren’t threatening to torch her khakis or burn the entire garden to a crisp.
It’s been minutes of this, and as much as Shiro wishes for Keith to help herself snap out of it, to take Shiro’s words to heart and just breathe- there’s only so much damage that Shiro can allow. She mutters the words, allowing for the spell to manifest between her hands. She lowers herself into a squat, keeping her hands close to the ground and the fire as she wills the oxygen to pull from the air around. It’s not the safest spell, but it’s effective, as the fire snuffs out nearly all at once.
But it also draws the breath from Keith’s lungs.
She collapses on the ground as the fire dies, gasping for air where there’s none. Shiro releases the spell, and crosses the scorched ground as Keith starts drawing breath again. By the time she has Keith cradled on her lap, her charge is sobbing between the hulking breaths, shaking in Shiro’s arms.
“You’re alright, Keith, I’m sorry,” Shiro speaks softly into Keith’s hair, smelling smoke and fire. “It’s okay.”
“It’s- not!” Keith wheezes, punching Shiro weakly in the arm. “Why can’t it just-”
Shiro hushes her, rocking them both gently, but doesn’t insist on any more words. Sitting at the center of a black scorch mark in the backyard, with a trembling witch she had to choke crying on her jacket, perhaps saying things are okay isn’t the correct phrase.
But they’ll get there, eventually.
○✤○
One of the reasons Keith can’t find her footing, Shiro soon realizes, is very simple.
Keith doesn’t sleep.
She’s trying to be secretive about it, and if Shiro didn’t have trouble with sleep herself, she might never have noticed.
The first time she found Keith sneaking around the house at night was the first week, and she didn’t question it. It’s not strange that Keith has trouble sleeping, and it’s not like Shiro could say much. She wasn’t sleeping, either.
But as the weeks go by, Shiro notices. Keith isn’t having trouble falling or staying asleep. She’s up when everyone else is asleep, because she wants to be.
“Life is a nightmare when I’m awake, how could my dreams be worse?” Keith says one night, when Shiro’s found her in the library for the third time in a week, and started asking questions.
The words hurt like a wound to hear, and Shiro has to keep herself from reaching out to Keith then. Keith doesn’t sugarcoat things, Shiro already knew that, but hearing her say exactly what she feels is as painful as it is necessary.
“You…” Keith continues, eyes trained on her knees where she sits curled up on the couch. “You make it better, though. I feel better when you’re here.”
“I’m glad,” Shiro says, trying very hard to ignore the flutter in her chest. She takes a seat next to Keith on the couch, but leaves space between them. “That’s why I’m here, right? Any way I can help is good.”
Keith doesn’t say anything else. She fiddles with her fingers, looking out into space as she often does. Shiro watches her, sees her shudder.
“Are you cold?”
Keith nods, and Shiro doesn’t think. She moves closer, and shrugs the cardigan off her shoulders. She offers it to Keith, who looks at her with large eyes.
“Won’t you be cold now?”
“Nah,” Shiro just smiles as Keith squints at her, holding her grin until the edges of Keith’s mouth begin to twitch.
“Thank you,” she says after a beat, wrapping herself in the cardigan that is much too large on her lithe frame. “A year ago I could have just lit the fucking fireplace and we’d both be nice and toasty.”
“You do know that you can create fire without magic too, right?” Shiro teases, nudging Keith with her elbow. Keith snorts.
“Funny.”
“I like to think so.”
“I’ll just let you live with your illusion, then.”
“Ouch.”
Keith laughs, a quiet little thing that warms Shiro’s skin more than a fire ever would. She thinks that she should leave, before she gives herself away. If she hasn’t already, she’s always been a terrible liar. Worse when a beautiful girl is involved.
But before she can muster the strength to get up, a weight settles on her shoulder, and Shiro’s heart jumps in her chest. The scent of juniper and mint shampoo invade her nose, and she knows she’s done for.
They stay like that for a while, warm and comfortable, tucked together in a way Shiro in no way whatsoever should ever be with a charge. Yet, she can’t find it in herself to move away.
“Hey,” she speaks when sleep starts to tug at her. She’ll draw the line at falling asleep like this and risking Krolia finding them in the morning. Keith hums in response, and Shiro feels it against the skin of her shoulder. “If you don’t have trouble sleeping, why are you awake? You know it’s not good for you or what we’re trying to achieve, don’t you?”
She realizes the second she says it that she’s made a mistake, Keith pulling away from her immediately.
“Keith-”
“Maybe I just like the quiet, Shiro, maybe it’s that simple,” Keith hisses, getting to her feet. Faced with the sudden defensiveness and flaring mood, Shiro nearly doesn’t notice it. The book Keith’s shoved between herself and the armrest, that she’s tucking close to her chest now. Did she hide it, when she heard Shiro coming earlier? Why? “Maybe you should just leave me alone.”
○✤○
The feeling that Keith might be hiding something only grows stronger, as time continues to pass by.
It’s in her behavior. On one hand, she’s driven to make progress, to get back control over herself and her magic. On the other, she refuses to talk about it, despite Shiro insisting that they won’t achieve any lasting change if Keith doesn’t learn to face and embrace her emotions.
“You don’t have to tell me what you’re feeling, that’s not the point,” Shiro pleads, rattled after another of Keith’s tremors. It knocked some things loose that Shiro would rather not think about, and the phantom pains in her missing arm are like a thorn in the side of her composure. “But you need to learn to move on, Keith. It’s the only way this is going to work, if you find a new anchor. I know how much you miss him, I do, but you have to start over. There’s no shame or dishonoring of his memory in that. He’ll always be-”
“Don’t!” Keith yells, and this time, the tremor is physical. Shiro catches the vase that falls off a shelf close to where she stands, but multiple frames, plants and other trinkets hit the ground as Keith storms out of the house for the second time in the past two days.
It’s been getting worse, and Shiro figures it has to do with Keith’s birthday coming up at the end of the week.
She sets the vase on a table, and rushes to follow Keith before she disappears. If she takes off into those woods, there’s no way for Shiro to find her until Keith wants her to.
She’s learned that the hard way.
When she comes running out front, disheveled and frustrated, being met with two unexpected guests is the last thing she needs.
But at least, they have surprised Keith enough to stop her in her tracks as well.
Shiro keeps some distance, but walks up to stand close to Keith as Allura and Lotor approach. Dislike and discomfort oozes from Keith where she stands, and Shiro readies herself for another burst of uncontrolled magic any second. If Keith hurts a member of the council, or two, all the work they’ve done will be for nothing after all.
Shiro yelps when one of the ravens swoops past, gliding gracefully to come and stand at Keith’s feet. Followed by another, and another.
It’s taken some getting used to, how the birds come to Keith’s aid when she feels threatened.
“Oh, Keith,” Allura looks at Keith and the ravens with sadness. “I’m sorry you’ve come to feel that way, I assure you that’s not our intention.”
“So fuck off.” Keith spits, still reeling from moments ago. Shiro sees the sparks start to light up around her fingertips.
“I’m afraid we can’t do that,” Lotor says, unyielding and cocksure as ever. A good man as far as Shiro knows, and a perfect match to his wife, but there’s always been something about his methods that’s made Shiro want to slap him even when he’s right. “Where is your mother, Keith?”
“Right here,” Krolia’s voice cuts in, and everyone but Keith turns to see her come down the front steps. Krolia Marmora always keeps her head held high in public, but right now, she appears before them like a warrior empress. Hardened, graceful. “What do you want?”
“Perhaps we could speak in private?” Allura suggests, laying a hand on Lotor’s arm as if to stop him from barging forward.
“Whatever you’re here to say, you can share with everyone,” Krolia counters, coming to stand between Keith and Shiro. The ravens scatter, some moving to sit in front of Krolia. One even closes in on Shiro, and she suppresses the urge to startle back when it flaps its wings by her feet. “So? Get it over with.”
Allura and Lotor exchange a look, and Allura sighs before she speaks.
“It’s come to the council's attention that dark spells have been cast on these grounds,” she says carefully, shoulders stiff. “In the past week or so.”
Krolia growls.
“What kind of foolishness is that? I am the council.”
“You know quite well how these things work, Marmora,” Lotor speaks up. “After all the scrutiny this family has been under recently, the council has done best to meet without you to discuss. This is hardly news.”
“But accusing us of illegal magic is new, isn’t it?” Krolia barks back. Shiro turns to look at her, but instead catches the sight of smoke coming from the other side of her. A wispy line of rising smoke, coming from the ground at Keith’s feet. “Is this another pathetic attempt from the council to get their hands on this family’s magic? On my daughter?”
Shiro doesn’t hear any more, shutting it out to focus as she moves around Krolia. She steps up, slowly as she can, behind Keith. She flinches when Shiro touches her, gently placing her hands above her elbows. Keith’s skin is burning up, and she’s trembling. If she loses it now, with fire or with a tremor, it won’t matter.
Shiro leans in, standing nearly plastered against Keith’s back before she whispers.
“Breathe, Keith. We’re right here with you. You’re safe. You’re in control. You got this.”
She repeats the words, over and over as the voices of Lotor and Krolia keep firing back and forth. It’s only when she tries to hear them that she realizes that she can’t, and that Keith can’t either. The air has shifted, dulling the sound of the others’ voices to a murmur.
“How are you doing that?” Keith asks weakly, her hands jerking up to grab at Shiro’s, pulling them until she’s wrapped Shiro’s arms around herself. Her hands are especially hot, burning Shiro’s skin, but she doesn’t care.
“I’m not sure,” Shiro says honestly, watching the scene unfold without sound. Lotor has stepped up closer, pointing towards them as he speaks. Krolia is coming to meet him. “How are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers, wincing when a couple of the ravens surge into the air in the direction of Allura and Lotor. It’s a blur of black feathers and white hair, and a magical glow as Allura stuns the birds in the air. Shiro shifts, feeling like she should be doing something, but Keith holds her harder. “Don’t let go. Don’t-”
“I won’t,” Shiro assures, pressing even closer. “I got you, baby, I’m not letting go.”
Keith’s gasp is barely audible, but to Shiro it’s louder than anything. She didn’t mean to say that! Or she did, but it wasn’t supposed to slip out. It’s not the time. No time is the time for that, as long as Keith is her charge, or even after that, depending. Certainly not now, as a wall of fire rises from the pebbles four feet in front of them, moving slowly closer to their guests.
There’s yelling, pleading in Allura’s voice.
Shiro refuses to believe Allura or Lotor would ever wish any of them harm. Allura was the one who brought Shiro here in the first place, to make sure Keith gets to stay in her home. If they’re here with the bad news, they must’ve fought for the chance to be the ones to come.
It could have been representatives with motive to hurt or provoke them, and that would have been ten times worse.
When the flames snuff out, the couple are back in their car, leaving the premises. Next to them, Krolia nearly collapses before catching herself.
Whatever spell Shiro had conjured to protect Keith lifts, and sound rushes back in her ears. In her arms, Keith flinches as the same happens to her.
Krolia is in front of them in a second, cupping Keith’s face in her hands. There’s fury and distress written all over her face, but also warmth. Maternal pride, perhaps.
“You did it, little flame,” Krolia says, in awe. “You did so well. How are you feeling?”
Keith’s temperature has dropped, and she’s not shaking anymore. She’s not on the verge anymore, at least. But when Shiro tries to give Krolia and Keith a moment, Keith won’t let go. She holds on, and Shiro lets her.
“I’m… I’m okay, I think,” Keith says, sounding exhausted. “Are you okay?”
“Better now, my love,” Krolia strokes Keith’s hair, glancing over her head at Shiro, who can’t help the color creeping up her neck when Krolia squints at her. “We should all get some rest.”
○✤○
The visit from the council stays on Shiro’s mind for the next couple of days. Keith has grown more distant than before, but doesn’t lash out as much. It seems she is torn about something, and she’s not alone.
They don’t talk about what happened, or what Shiro said.
Instead, Shiro keeps her mind on more important things. Like dark magic on the Marmora grounds. Any witch wouldn’t know to recognize the energy of dark magic if it were right under their nose, but there are a chosen few who can feel it. Feel it from miles and miles away, and sometimes pinpoint its origin.
Naturally, this is a handy skill to keep on hand when you’re trying to run a council meant to keep the entire magical community safe.
There are currently two of these witches in the council’s employ in the northwest, signaling whenever they feel darkness. The two are both anonymous, and can never know who the other is. If both report the same or similar energies, it’s deemed indisputable.
Of course, there’s no way of confirming who has been practicing dark magic without the reporting witch coming along, but that’s too much of a risk to their safety. And so, representatives are sent to the location first. If they’re able to make an arrest, the suspects are brought to chambers where the reporting witch is protected by a shadow veil. There, the reporting witch can confirm the suspects involvement.
It’s a slow and complicated process, proving someone’s involvement in dark magic.
But if a report has been made, Shiro and Krolia agree that it’s strange. If someone was on the grounds, practicing forbidden spells in these woods or near the house, the family would have been informed. The rumored connection between the Marmora family and the ancient magic of the woods is real, and strong.
Krolia would have known. She’s sure of it.
Unless, of course, it was someone from the family themselves who did it. The woods wouldn’t question that, if it’s not an immediate threat to the old magic or other members of the family.
The idea is, according to Krolia, not worth any thought. The rest of the Marmora family who no longer live on the premises are all accounted for, cross country or abroad. None of them could have been here, and would have no reason to come without announcing themselves.
Shiro repeats Krolia’s convictions in her mind, over and over as sleep refuses to come. But the train of thought she’s trying to avoid persists, no matter how irrational.
It’s half baked logic and a touch of desperation that leads her to Keith’s door. If she can just talk to Keith about her concerns, see her look at Shiro like she’s crazy, she’ll feel better.
Besides, as of thirteen minutes ago, it’s Keith’s birthday.
But when she cracks the door the Keith’s room open, she knows before she sees that it’s empty. It’s happened countless times by now, so Shiro doesn’t dare to dwell on why a sudden sense of urgency overtakes her when she sees Keith’s bed made. She can’t pinpoint the feeling, but it pulls her feet forward. She hurries, doors slamming as she goes about looking for Keith. She’s going to wake Krolia, but she couldn’t care.
Keith’s not in the den. Or in the library. Or in the kitchen. Maybe-
Shiro’s heart is heavy, so heavy it makes it hard to climb the steep staircase to the attic. She doesn’t want to be right about this, wants so badly to be wrong.
But she’s not, is she?
The door is locked, as it should be, and no lights are on. But Shiro knows.
“Keith! Keith, let me in, please,” she slams her fist to the door. “Open the door, Keith!”
“Leave it alone, Shiro!” Keith’s voice comes from inside, and there’s something wrong with it.
It’s… hollow.
“Keith, open the door! Open the door!”
Nothing happens, and Shiro hears her heart thunder in her ears. She slams against the door, knowing it won’t budge but clueless to what else to do. A pulsing glow starts seeping out through the cracks around the door, the sound of a whispering voice.
Shiro looks down on her hands in panic, mind racing with ideas of getting the sledgehammer, of climbing to the window- when she sees.
The polished gold of her arm, glowing in a way it’s never done, and somehow she knows. It’s summoning strength.
In seconds, the light becomes too strong to look at, and Shiro grabs the doorknob once more. There’s a surge of something, starting in her chest, her heart, that channels through the arm. It feels like having a piece of herself ripped out. She screams, writhes with the urge to let go. But as she holds on, she feels the locking spell fall apart, giving way.
The door opens for her with a crash.
In the middle of the room, Keith sits kneeling at the edge of a salt circle. Whatever she’s doing, Shiro doesn’t understand the pieces. There are items in the circle, sacrifices. Trinkets, personal items. Blood.
“He said he’d always be with me,” Keith says, still with that hollow voice that turns Shiro’s blood to ice. She smiles at Shiro, but it’s faint and mirthless. Those impossible blue eyes are empty. “And he can. He can! Just wait, he’ll be here soon.”
Shiro’s heart breaks.
It’s not like it’s never happened before, witches driven to darkness. But it’s not as simple as someone using forbidden magic to get things their way, that’s not what it is. Dark magic consumes you, swallows you whole if you’re not strong and steady from the start. Things like depression, loss, and grief - they can bring anyone closer to darkness, but much like dark magic, they eat away at you.
How are you supposed to stand your ground, if you’re weakened by your humanity from the start?
“Sweetheart, no. You know this isn’t how it works,” Shiro scrambles to the floor, grabbing at Keith to snap her out of it. She doesn’t so much as flinch, doesn’t try to get away, or defend herself. “Keith, listen to me.”
She’s not using this spell to bring her father back. The spell is using her.
For the first time, Keith is cold to the touch.
“What on earth- Keith!”
Shiro didn’t even hear Krolia coming, but suddenly she’s there, dragging Keith away from the circle before Shiro can even blink.
“Shiro, are you with me?”
She snaps to attention, meeting Krolia’s bewildered gaze. “I- yes!”
“Destroy the circle, right now,” Krolia snaps, turning back to Keith. “Quickly!”
Shiro understands why Krolia has done what she’s done, getting Keith away and holding her down, when Shiro first tries to touch the circle. It resists her, pulsing faster with that eerie glow. And Keith screams.
“No!” Keith thrashes under Krolia’s weight, her voice cutting in Shiro’s ears like shards of glass. It’s a barely human sound. “No! NO!”
“Shiro, destroy it!” Krolia urges, and Shiro tries. She’s dizzy, disoriented, and neither her touch or her magic breaks the barrier protecting the circle as it gets more agitated.
She looks down upon her hand again, and tries to concentrate. It’s harder now, with how much opening the door has drained her, but the force builds steady in her prosthetic nonetheless. She closes her eyes, closes her ears to the agonizing shrieking that is not Keith.
Keith, the real Keith, she keeps at the forefront of her mind. The way she taps her foot and toys with whatever’s in her hands to keep herself focused, how her own laugh seems to surprise her when it escapes her chest. The warmth of her hands.
The salt circle disintegrates, whatever darkness is trying to manifest writhing and pulsing as the salt breaks loose and begins to scatter. It’s more painful than before, the pull from her heart to her fingertips, and it’s nearly more than she can take.
She feels it when the darkness lets go, a slithering feeling like holding a wet eel in your hands, and then it’s gone.
The room falls silent, but the rush in Shiro’s ears is loud. Her heart is loud. The sound of singing metal must come from the inside of her arm, and that too is loud.
She only has a moment, seeing Keith’s closed eyes and Krolia’s thankful expression, before all of it disappears into black.
○✤○
“There you are,” a teasing voice says, and she feels a squeeze to her hand. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Shiro makes a confused sound, trying to open her eyes. She finds her eyelids are heavy, crusty, and the light stings too much. She hisses.
“Oh, wait-” the voice says, and there’s rustling. Then, the lights seem to dim behind her eyelids. “There we go, better?”
She tries again, opening her eyes fully this time. It takes a moment to focus, for the blurry mess of colors to take shape. When it finally does, she smiles. Her lips are dry.
“Keith.”
“That’s me,” Keith says, and her voice is raspy. Tears shine at the corners of her eyes, and she blinks furiously to make them stop. “Glad to hear there’s no brain damage and you didn’t forget about me.”
Shiro snorts. “Like I could ever.”
Keith smiles, and maybe it’s a trick of the light, but Shiro thinks she might be blushing, just a little bit.
“I should tell someone you’re awake,” she says, turning away. Shiro instantly misses her eyes on her. “They’ll need to run tests, or whatever, I think-”
“How long was I out?” Shiro interrupts, her limbs heavy when she tries to lift her arm and reach for Keith. Keith meets her halfway, taking her hand. She takes a moment, and sniffs.
“A month, almost. I’ve been so fucking worried about you- you-” Keith laughs, that little quiet thing that Shiro lives for. “Don’t ever save my life again, alright? Never.”
“Don’t get yourself in trouble and I’ll try my best,” Shiro groans, and squeezes the hand in hers. “Did you recover okay?”
Keith pins her with a flat look.
“You woke up two minutes ago, and you’re already moving on to ask about me? Why are you like this?”
Shiro shrugs, smiles. “That’s not an answer.”
“I was out for a while, too. A week, barely. At least it cut the time I had to wait for you to wake up a little shorter.”
“And now?” Shiro presses. Keith makes a face.
“I’m okay. You were right, obviously. I’ve been meeting with an actual magical shrink, got some stuff to work through.”
“Oh you do, do you?” Shiro teases, getting a punch to the arm.
“Shut up,” Keith laughs, leaning over the bed. Shiro smells juniper. “I still need you, though. If you’re up for it.”
“Maybe we should wait and see what your psychologist-”
Shiro stops short, breath catching in her throat when Keith doesn’t stop, her face just moving closer. Her long hair is loose, falling like a curtain around Shiro’s face. The kiss, when it comes, sets her aflame. Keith’s lips are soft and plump where Shiro’s are chapped and dry, but Keith doesn’t seem to mind one bit.