Suffering for the Practical

Content Warning: Blood, and self harm I guess

I plunged the knife deep into my arm, and pain exploded from it, sending waves of panic through my mind, and the muscles in my arm panicking. It hit bone, and I involuntarily shuddered, shifting the blade so it slid by my forearm bone, until it broke skin on the other side. And with a pained look on my face, I looked up to see if she had done it, her arm was a twin of mine. Crimson blood creating puddles underneath our arms, blood that spilled from our fingers and elbows. 

[Now I know what you are thinking. This dudes a psycho! Someone call his therapist! First things first, I don’t have a therapist, second, anything that could be seen as psycho, could only lead to an extraordinary story. You already think I am crazy, and don’t expect anything less, so lets ride with that.]

I immediately pulled the blade from her arm, and used bandages nearby to start drying her bloody arm. The bloodied blade was already glowing from absorbing her magic, all of it, containing it. My left arm didn’t work properly as an identical dagger was still sticking from it. She pulled it out, completing the ritual, laying it next to her blade as I applied ointment to her cut, and wrapped the bandage tighter. 

“I am sorry it had to come to this.” I whispered.

“It was my idea? Was it not.” She said.

“You’re idea, inspired by threats directed at me.” I cried, ignoring my pain and wallowing for hers. I knew she hurt, I could see her flinching as I wrapped her arm, and I didn’t have to look at her face to know she was crying, but I still did look. She was beautiful, and tears glistened on her face, making her skin reflect like porcelain. She pulled her arm away before I could finish wrapping it.

“It was my choice, let me help your arm.” I looked at her, trying to be strong.

“I am not done with yours.” I said reaching for her arm. In response, she grabbed my bleeding arm, and swatted my other hand away, as she started applying ointment. I looked at her face as she worked, and found myself wiping away her tears with my other hand, more came, and soon I was no longer able to staunch the flow, and so I held her face with my one hand, as the other exploded in pain. 

[Great, I even threw in a little romance, but we need to expand their complicated relationship, and at the same time start to set into the magic system, and setting, let’s do that.]

The twin blades which were now glowing very brightly, lit the small room. The walls were clean, and had childrens crayon drawings pinned up. We had done this on a tarp, which had a red sheet layered over it, which almost concealed the puddles of blood, which were a tinge darker. The blades had absorbed the magic from our blood, pulling it from our bodies, even now, I felt the lack of strength, lack of confidence. The blades glowed, where they almost touched. The magic had been placed in our blood by each other, and it had gotten strong, so strong it would not fade. 

And then the mage council had showed up, demanding our magic, demanding our connection. They envied it, people scoffed at the things we had learned to do with the magic. We could do the impossible, we could set wood on fire with a touch, or freeze a glass of water with a thought, we could make the stars shine as bright as the sun, making the sky a beautiful display of celestial glory. Our connection was stronger than most adult mage pairs. Then they had threatened to kill me. And she had made the choice.

All of that power was gone now, entrapped in two twin daggers, contained. 

She finished with my arm, and we held each other’s hands, I felt something in my blood grow warm at our fingertips. The daggers grew brighter, and we let go, taking our respective daggers. 

“And so it is done.” I said, tears streaming down my face, a different pain aching inside.

[As hooks go, this is satisfactory, but I think it is too violent for the opening of a story. Am I only narrating this to try and comfort myself? Maybe.]