MidReal Story

Silver Magic's Queen of Shadows

Anonymous

Jan 12

Scenario:There is a child her parents abused her they kicked her out then she realized she had magic and she started helping people and became Queen and her parents want her to forgive them but she doesn't and tells them to get lost

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There is a child her parents abused her they kicked her out then she realized she had magic and she started helping people and became Queen and her parents want her to forgive them but she doesn't and tells them to get lost

Isabella Thorne

Elara's mother and abuser, estranged from Elara and her husband Marcus, elegant with dark hair and sorrowful green eyes, conflicted and regretful.

Marcus Thorne

Elara's father and abuser, estranged from Elara and his wife, rugged with a stern face and cold grey eyes, manipulative and remorseful.

Elara Thorne

abused child turned queen, no direct relationships, slender with silver hair and piercing blue eyes, resilient and compassionate.

I remember the day I turned eighteen more clearly than I remember most things.

It was the day my parents told me they no longer wanted me.

I woke up to the sound of my mother crying, not uncommon in our house.

I rolled over, thinking maybe my father had finally gone too far and she’d found her voice to scream at him.

It took me a second to realize no one was in the room, and my phone told me it was much later than I normally got up.

I rolled out of bed and went to the door but found it was locked now.

My heart began to pound as I went back to lay down on my bed.

My phone showed me it was well past lunch time, and I was starving.

No one ever locked my door; there had never been a reason to.

My stomach twisted into knots as anxiety took over.

Hours later I heard the first muffled voices, and then the door opened and my father came in with a plate of what looked like cold macaroni, not even close to my favorite.

"I’m sorry we didn’t get you food sooner. Your mother was quite ill this morning," he said, his grey eyes cold as always, never showing any emotion.

"Where is she?"

I asked, taking the plate from him.

"In her room. She’s still not herself."

I didn’t eat; my stomach still twisted into knots from whatever had happened that morning.

"What’s going on?"