#amara3

Thorfinn had begun the day feeling on top of the world. Only four, glorious days ago, he’d been given the pleasure of kissing the love of his life, Amara. Then, just a day ago, he’d received yet another blessing in the form of Amara admitting that she may have feelings for him too. Needless to say, there was nothing that could get him down.

Even when the attack started, Thorfinn maintained a smile on his face. He had always loved a good fight, and this gave him an excuse to draw blood with no repercussions. He only bothered with his wand occasionally; he always had been better with his fists. His fist smashed into the red painted face of one of Grindewald’s soldiers, and Thorfinn gleefully relished the look of the blood spraying from his nose. Some of it even got on his face, but he didn’t even mind. 

He needed to find Amara. He was her self-appointed protector, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if she ended hurt without him there to kill anyone who dared touch a hair on her head. He sprinted around the corner, stumbling a bit over a spot of loose gravel. “Dammit.” He cursed, looking over his shoulder. That little fall had allowed a few of Grindewald’s soldiers to gain distance on him. He sensed a spell flying at him, and he ducked away from it. The red signified that it had been a Stunning Spell. Then, he dodged another spell, this one a bit nastier by the looks of it. He was hoping that his luck would last long enough for him to dodge the third spell, but the universe had a funny way of destroying one’s hopes.

Thorfinn had seen people injured, and he had seen people die. He had always assumed that it would never happen to him. After all, isn’t that what most people did? They assumed bad things only happened to other people. Unfortunately, like most people, Thorfinn learned the hard way that it was not the case. It was such a strange sensation, being hit with that spell. He saw the light reflecting behind him, and absentmindedly wondered what it was. When it hit him, he didn’t feel any pain, not at first. But he very quickly learned what the spell was. How did he know? Well, he saw it go into action. He fell to the ground first, but his eyes were drawn to the slight pressure he was beginning to feel in his midsection. His stomach was beginning to look strange, and weird. “Wha-?” He managed to say, before he lost all ability to think. The skin of his belly erupted, and the contents of his insides emptied out right before his eyes. His eyes widened in horror, and he clattered to the ground, his face landing hard against the stone streets of the village. He choked a little, unable to make any sounds in this moment. His hands, shaking and wavering, moved to the source of trauma, but he still could not feel anything. What had happened to him? What was in his hands? Oh. Oh. He felt like he wanted to vomit... only... he couldn’t, for he held his very own stomach in his hands.

An Entrail-Expelling Curse. How gruesome.