Magic fueled something in her; it set her on fire and gave her purpose.
It wasn’t like a torch lighting up, it was the slow burn of a flickering flame that soon coursed through her body, electrifying and bright, giving her the energy she could not find elsewhere. Magic was something innate in her, something wrapped tightly around her pure soul, it gave her power, safety, it lent her a hand whenever she needed, and a pillow to rest her head on when the world became cruel, wicked and bitter.
Like now, when things were dark and dreary, when everything seemed to cave and crash around her, when nothing worked, when she felt frail and weak. When she wanted to give up, the only light she had, the only warm embrace she could find were the hands that had held her since birth, Mother Nature’s. The soft touch of gentle grass, the other worldly song of the winds, the heat of fire and the overwhelming kiss of water, they blanketed her, kept her safe within spirit’s arms. And when the darkness threatened to take her, to tarnish everything she had accomplished, Mother Nature’s kind voice was there to bring her back to the light.
Her name was Layla, a force to be reckoned with, a dark beauty that enticed and comforted lost souls that wandered through her woods. She was the kind force guiding strangers back to society, the gentle touch that eased wounds and let the mind sleep. Her voice was bright, light and hushed, whispering songs in the breeze, as soldiers walked upon the many paths that led through her forest, back out into civilisation, from the war, away from the bloodshed. She was the last homely house on the way to battle and the first warm embrace when the fight was over.
One year, her touch, her kiss, her voice was no longer felt or heard. It was as if she had disappeared, gone in the winds that had hushed cries and eased screams. When the trees moaned and cried in the harsh winters after her passing, they begged for their enchantress to come back. But she would not – for mankind had slipped too far, fallen too deep into the darkness that tarnished and corrupted the soul. She could no longer help them.
For some deeds are irreversible and unforgivable.