Thunderstorm

Thunderstorm
Content Warning: Child abuse

Naerys never lost her fondness for thunder and lightning. She knew that blood wasn’t
what connected her to the family she grew up with. Even as a child, being outside in
thunderstorms felt like home.

When she became older, her adoptive family quickly realized their
daughters obsession with thunderstorms was not just an obsession. She was a
thunderstorm. Or could turn into one. At the age of four, the magic running through
her blood manifested as a powerful tool. Her domain was destruction. Thunder and
lightning pierced the hearts of her targets. Years ago, when a boy found her younger
self alone and freezing in a thunderstorm, her life was not only saved but changed.

The boy, her now older adoptive brother, belonged to one of the ruling Houses of
Assassins.

Three Houses to guide a guild of assassins. After their mothers death, her older
brother Vincent stepped in and was now her boss. Her boss would be very unhappy with
what his sister was up to.

In the security the night provided, Naerys sneaked around the mansion located in the upper, more noble part of the city. Her chest tightened as the young assassins opened the window of the upper floor and sneaked in.

A week ago, her life had changed a second time. Naerys knew she wasn’t related to
her brother by blood. She knew she was adopted and at the age of fifteen, her brother
finally told the story of how he found her. From that moment on, the siblings were eager to
find out where she came from. There had to be traces of either a lost child or parents who
went missing. For months after bringing his sister home, Vincent searched through
newspapers in case anyone missed their baby. Nothing. She appeared out of nowhere.

At least until one of Vincents contacts provided them with information both didn’t
think of.

On silent steps, Naerys strolled through the empty hallways of the mansion. She
pulled back her hood and long white hair shimmered in the dim light candles provided.
Someone was at home. Not even rich people left candles burning unattended and
risked burning their houses down.

It was utterly silent. The only sound she heard was the crunching sound her leather pants and boots made. Secured by straps, she carried three daggers with her. Two on every hip, one hidden in one of her boots.

Her heart raced, her hands trembled. Lightning and daggers. She was nervous. For the first
time in years she was nervous about what was going to happen next. A strange feeling
crept through her body, her magic roared and reacted to something inside. Dark magic was
what made the thunderstorm inside her uneasy. It felt dark, wrong. Only a handful of
mages dared to touch the forbidden art. Dark magic was what fuelled demons and
forced them to obey. But it could also consume the mage who was brave – or stupid –
enough to summon demons.

The source of the uneasiness and strange feeling that haunted her while being in this
house revealed itself to her as she entered the main hall. Green and black whirls of
magic lingered in the air. A woman in the centre of it, summoning demons or
whatever may escape the realm beyond the one where mortals lived. Her target. Naerys didn’t
keep her presence a secret as she would normally do. She loved the shadows, owned
them. Not this time. Not for this target.

The rooms gloomy green light of whatever foul ritual the woman performed mixed
with the blueish shimmer of her lightning. “What the he-“, the stranger turned and
immediately stopped. She lowered her arms, the green glow slowly faded. With
feline grace, the white-haired elf approached the other mage.

Naerys stayed quiet while the other mage’s eyes widened at the sight of her face. Her
freckled nose, the striking violet eyes, the silver-white long hair. “This can’t be,” the
other woman’s eyes narrowed. With a quick movement of her wrist, the woman shot
a flash of green lightning towards the assassin. Naerys dodged it effortlessly with a quick
step to the side. “Pathetic,” she hissed, summoning lightning around her wrists.

The women looked similar. One older than the other. One clothed in leather and a
cloak, the other in a flowy pants and a matching top made of the finest fabrics. One
held a dagger in her hand, the other persons hands were decorated with gold and
jewels. hair was white, the womans a light blonde. They shared the freckled nose,
full checks and the exact same violet eyes.

“You are dead,” the woman breathed, still stunned by the person who showed up at
her doorstep and whom she clearly did not expect.

“Who is dead?” with a deadly calm voice, Naerys wanted to hear the truth. Deep
down, she knew her brother’s sources were reliable but the faint glimmer of hope they were
wrong hadn’t left her.

“Who is dead?” her voice thundered through the room accompanied by a lightning
that lit up the dark sky.

“You look like her. Like your mother,” the woman had calmed herself or at least
wore a mask of ice on her face. If Naerys’ presence unsettled her, she didn’t show it. The
same ice the woman wore as a mask shot through the young mage’s heart. Her eyes.
The eyes she loved about herself, inherited by the woman who abandoned her on a rainy day.
The woman who left her to die. She came to kill whoever lived her, she knew who
lived here. Electricity sizzled through the air as anger and sadness threatened to
overwhelm the young assassin. Growing up she often imagined what her parents
looked like, what they were like. Where they were. After digging through documents and
talking to the right people, Vincent found out Naerys’ parents died ten years ago.
They were assassinated by an assassin from another house.
Black magic, demon summoning, using magic to manipulate people.
The woman before her was her aunt. One of three relatives who remained out of
sight for the assassins. Until now. This woman won’t survive this encounter, that much she
knew.

“My mother abandoned me,” a shot of lightning directed at her aunt missed.

“She left me behind, left me to die,” another one missed.

“Why?” the chandelier dropped to the marble floor and exploded in a thousand
pieces.

Naerys tried to contain her fury, hold herself back. Focus is what kept assassins alive.

“You were a failure, child,” the icy mask hardened on the woman’s face. Hatred
replaced surprised expression. “You were born into a family of talented mages drawn
to the darker side. Your parents had high hopes for their offspring. But you were
utterly useless. Not a drop of magic let alone any talent to connect yourself to the other
realm.”

Naerys’ attacks were countered by green lightning. With a small gesture, a demon
appeared and roared. A twisted creature made of darkness and corruption. A twisted
smile appeared on the woman who summoned the demon.

Even if she never knew who her parents were, knowing why she was left behind hurt.
Two people had a child and once it seemed not useful for their twisted schemes, they
left it behind. Sadness and rage coiled up inside her. Not for her but for the child
inside her. For the little girl who knew she had a loving family but longed to meet her own.
The little girl who was always different from other children because she didn’t look
like her brother or the woman who raised her as her own even if she was not.

“One of the first thing I was taught during my training was: Make sure your target is
dead.”

Lightning sparkled from her wrist, bathing the dagger in her hand in a blueish
glimmer.

The demons roar rattled through the room before the creature lunged towards her.

Her aunt controlled it. She hid behind the creature, used it as a puppet. “A little assassin,
huh?”

The mocking voice broke any constraints she had left. A thunderstorm unleashed
inside the mansion, tearing through furniture, curtains and windows. She was angry, furious
even. Her heart raced, her muscles were tense. Without a second thought, the young
assassin lunged towards the demon, trying to break through to her true target. The
rage blinded her, numbed her senses and let her forget almost everything she learned. The
woman cried out in pain. But before she could celebrate the small victory, the demon
grabbed her and threw the fragile looking young woman across the room. With a dull
sound she landed on the floor. Pain exploded in her shoulder. Nothing felt broken but
hurt like hell.

“Your parents even tried to force your magic out of that useless body of yours,” her
aunt mocked her still. Blood ran from her leg where Naerys’ lightning had hit her
mere moments ago. “You cried in pain as the blade pierced your skin. They thought,
maybe through pain your gifts finally showed themselves.”

She didn’t remember the process, but she knew the scars remained throughout the
years. At some point, the young mage covered her scars with tattoos. One wing on
each side. She thought those scars were from years of assassin training. The decision
to cover them with ink was made through shame. She thought those scars were
symbols of her failings in fighting exercises. Instead, they were symbols of abuse.

Another wave of lightning erupted from her hands accompanied by a scream filled
with rage and sadness. Naerys threw one of the daggers strapped to her hip towards
the demon which seemed to be not very impressed. The creature closed the distance.
Before it struck another blow, a taller figure dropped from the ceiling and pinned the
demon down. The foul creatures scream ringed in her ears. Atop of the demon stood
a familiar assassin. Clothed in dark leather as herself stood her brother. Vincent’s gaze
met hers as he gestured towards the woman who in this moment, screamed in agony.
Her precious pet was dead.

“She’s yours,” was all Vincent said.

Defenceless without her demon and probably exhausted, the woman’s eyes widened
as her long lost niece approached her with the dagger drawn and no mercy to be
found. She wanted to kill that woman without magic. She was deemed useless
because her magical abilities didn’t live up to their expectations? Fine. She had
learned how to kill without it.

Her aunt didn’t want to go down without a fight. But she was not trained in close
combat. Facing someone without her wicked weapons was a death sentence. She
fought back but despite her shoulder and hip being heavily bruised which caused a
lot
of pain, it didn’t take long to gain the upper hand.
“I will find the remaining members of this wretched family and I will make sure they
know who kills them before slitting their throats,” Naerys’ voice never sounded more
poisonous than now. Full of hatred and anger she sliced the woman’s throat and
watched her lifeless body drops to the floor.

Naerys collapsed next to the lifeless body of her aunt. She didn’t cry. The young
woman felt… nothing. No grief, no relief. Just nothing. She didn’t even turn around
when she heard her brothers footsteps.

“The last time you spied on me during a contract was years ago, Vi,” her raspy voice
sounded alien to herself. As if another person was speaking. As if she dissociated
completely.

“When you were thirteen, to be precise.”

Vincent kneeled next to her, observing his younger sister. “A small part of me hoped
we were wrong. Maybe the girl they tried to kill,” the last part was quieter than the
rest. Willingly leaving a baby behind was a level of cruelty even she didn’t
understand.

“I didn’t know that part, Naerys. I knew those mages are crazy bu-“

Naerys closing her arms around him in a hug interrupted him. The older assassin
hated to be touched. His body stiffened. Naerys grip tightened as if she desperately
searched for something to hold on to. Vincent relaxed a bit and closed his arms around her.
Kneeling in blood, the siblings hugged each other for the first time in years.

About the Author: I’m Ilka and I study German and English at the moment. I adore my two cats and playing video games. Even if “playing” is an understatement at the moment because I got into modding games (mostly making new outfits), which results in me start and close the game to test whether the stuff works or the game throws a tantrum. 

Photos by Ilka Ubben, from game Dragon Age: The Veilguard