I keep dancing on my own

MELITA

What must it be like – to have endless, unlimited powers? Melita had always wondered but never truly asked; she’d been the girl with no magic to her name, but every ounce of determination squeezed into her frame. Perhaps it wasn’t the enchantments and invocations that mattered (though she’d dearly enjoy savoring their intricacies and intentions; she had no doubt), but what they did with them, how they helped, how they protected, how they sizzled and triumphed. While she didn’t contain those gifts herself, she did everything to the best of her own ability – the girl beckoned training and potency with each and every fiber to her lungs, to her heart, to her mind; and eventually, she’d become something. “Well, we’ll see when the time comes!” She winked then too, eager and fervent, always ready.

Her heart soared too when little Aoife seemed briefly enchanted, and the honeybee girl thought she’d done something right despite all her inexperience, ignorance, and ineptitude in life – laughing at the starlit gaze, at the little smile peeking out from behind rainclouds and sorrows, and then it was gone. In a flash, the moment dissipated into stormy turbulence, wailing, a howl to eclipse all other howls. The youth winced and backed away, thinking she’d been the cause. But Remi, apparently akin to anything Aoife could dish out, merely scooped her up and admitted she was merely hungry. “That’s all right,” she visibly brightened, more sunshine in the face of future, foretold promises. It was another invitation extended to the Monster Hunter’s guild, and she still didn’t know what to do with all these bestowals anointed and consecrated to her being – she probably didn’t deserve them. She nodded in agreement anyway, curls bouncing and twirling, as the dancing ended and reality ensued. “Of course.” Melita took her cue; and waved goodbye to both, twirling in amidst the rest of the world, Fangorn tucked at her side – the day already grander than when it first began.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight