#nycwizard

The pixie had never been inside her enemy’s metaphorical castle before. She knew Mama Witch had a base of operations somewhere in New York, but it was no doubt guarded by glamour and hidden from anyone who might stumble in, human or otherwise. Pixi could feel the magic of the place pushing at her from all angles—she was pixie, she was enemy, she did not belong, and every room they passed through seemed all-too-happy to remind her. It felt like she was being squeezed all over, and not in a good way; as if she was stuck in the hand of a spiteful being that wanted to make it very clear it could crush her at any moment. 

Her hair was hanging over her face in messy strands, and there were scratches and cuts running all up and down her body—Cherry had really gone to town, and with the cold iron preventing her from healing, Pixi’s breath was ragged. She could vaguely hear Cherry gloating or threatening her into walking forward, but the words sounded fuzzy; Pixi’s vision was getting blurry, and she couldn’t tell if it was due to her exhaustion and injuries or if she’d started crying.

The thought was sharp in her mind, one of the first truly clear ideas since she’d been captured, and Pixi blinked hard, willing tears away. She was not going to cry. She was going to hold out and remain strong, no matter what they did to her. She was going to get out of here eventually and find the Sorcerer and they would run away together, just like they’d always talked about while stargazing and listening to each other’s heartbeats.

Oh...the Sorcerer. He was probably going out of his mind with worry, and for that, Pixi felt bad. She didn’t want to cause him any sadness, and wished there was some way to contact him one last time. Pixi didn’t want him to try and find her—that would expose him, and then he would be in trouble right alongside with her. She may be the enemy, but he was a wizard; if they found out about him, he would be accused of treason. 

She would be strong, and she would escape and they would be together. Pixi held on to that, repeating it in her head like a mantra keeping her sane, and for the first time in that house she felt determined. There was even a small smile on her face by the time she and Cherry reached the last room, and when the redheaded witch opened the door Pixi held herself high...

Only to see the Sorcerer standing in the middle of the room, next to a checkerboard-patterned table and a squat, purple woman she knew instinctively was Mama Witch. 

Pixi felt like the breath had been knocked out of her. Her first immediate thought was oh, gods, they caught him too, please no...but the more she looked at him, the more she could process. He was not bound and injured like she was, he stood tall and impassive and there was a sense of familiarity with how he stood next to Pixi’s sworn enemy, and...

In that instant, the entire situation became painfully clear to Pixi. Cherry shoved her to her knees, but Pixi didn’t think she’d have been able to remain standing anyway, gaze locked on the boy. Cherry waltzed forward, a proud smirk on her face, and stood by the two of them, looking down at their captured pixie. A family portrait of witches right in front of her. Mother, daughter, and...

Son.

She couldn’t breathe. He was...the Sorcerer was Mama Witch’s son. Cherry’s brother. All her memories of their time together suddenly seemed warped, like she was really seeing them for the first time...the way he would always seem antsy when talking about Cherry, or have to leave unexpectedly for seemingly no reason...Pixi always thought it was just because he was a wizard, because they had to be careful or risk others finding out about them. Every single term of endearment he had ever used sounded sour in her ears, promises of a new world together falling flat, so much that she could hear them shatter, until she could feel the tears coming back.

Pixi could hear them speaking, but it felt like she was underwater. She’d been so stupid. Not only did she fall in love with a sorcerer, but it had to be Mama Witch’s son—her sworn enemy, the most powerful magic user in New York City who wanted her head on a platter. Who knew how much of his ‘love’ had been a trick, a way to lure her in and capture her in order to earn his mother’s favor? Her head dropped; everything suddenly felt so heavy. Her body, the cold iron around her wrists, everything...

She couldn’t hold back anymore. Her entire body wracked with silent sobs, and she could feel tears running down her cheeks, the salty taste hitting her tongue and burning in her eyes.