jamie
from the destruction, out of the flame
There is much to fear, he thinks.
Because he knows his mother, at least as well as one can know his mother.
Because he knows that there is a monster inside of him.
He has felt how desperately it has wanted to come out.
He has felt it in his gut and in his teeth and at the base of his throat.
He cannot ask her to understand, this magician, not when she has nothing at all to fear.
Not when he seems to be the only one left trembling when she passes through him, materializes on the other side of him. Not when she is grinning the way she is.
But she’s right. There is some curiosity, but it is dark. It is twisted and it is wicked. It is a curiosity that yearns to know just how far he could go. Just how dark he could be. It lives inside him, too. And it is this curiosity that the monster feeds on. And the monster delights in her insistence. It makes him weak.
It takes everything in him to swallow down the urge to let her do with him what she will. Heal him, make him something he has never been before, turn him into something that is less of an idea, something closer to real. The monster does not have a voice but it has desire so potent that he can scarcely breathe around it.
He watches her, the yellow gaze steady. He blinks once and then finally turns away.
“No,” he says. The tone is neither cold nor dismissive but resigned. As desperately as he wants to, he cannot indulge her. “I don’t expect you to understand,” he wheezes, heaving a rattling breath. “I don’t think a magician could.”
you need a villain, give me a name
