AUTHOR'S NOTE:
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Above is a picture of Samrah. For anyone who is wondering, yes, I drew that.
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Samrah didn't know how long she sat cross legged in front of the giant window, all she knew is that it was calming. It dulled the voices in her mind down to a whisper. She had to deal with the Sanctum's intimacy on a daily basis, even at night. The only time she got a decent sleep was when she put earbuds in. Stephen bought them for her, along with a phone. How he afforded it she had no idea. He didn't work anywhere but at the Sanctum and keeping reality safe didn't seem like a high paying job.
Stephen had gone out today. Maybe to go to his mysterious job where he got his money from? Samrah didn't know, she didn't think it was her business to know where he went or why he was doing it. She didn't question what he did or what he asked her to do. She knew it was for a reason and from what he told her about the world he lived in, one wrong move and you could lose everything. She took everything Stephen said like her life depended on it. Because it probably did.
Samrah's eyes were shut and she was breathing slowly. She was trying to channel the Sanctum's energy into a blockade, to keep the voices out of her head. Stephen hadn't taught it to her, he hadn't shown her anything even close to what she was trying to do. She just hoped that she could figure it out on her own. If she imagined it happening hard enough, maybe it could happen. Stephen had taught her how to connect with the Sanctum's mystical energy so she could use the wards to sense anybody approaching the Sanctum directly. He told her to picture the energy like a web of light. Pulsing and flowing through the magical house like multiple connected rivers. She told Stephen that she could feel it but she didn't tell him that when she did was she told him, she could actually see it.
The flow, the light, the energy ebbing and twisting and turning in every room. Every staircase, every wall, every fiber of this house. It spread like spider webs across the floorboards and stretched like the currents of a river up the walls. It was hard to explain. The light was always contrasted by bleak darkness. A pit of unfathomable black and cold. If she didn't focus on a strain of energy, she could feel her concentration slipping into the black void. It was chilling and required her total attention. If anything snapped her out of focus she'd either come back to reality or find herself falling in a swirling pool of darkness.
The process of taxing and extremely tiring so by the time Samrah could actually see the magic flow, she was already breathing hard, a bead of sweat trickling down her forehead. Samrah found it, the string of magic that existed as the wards. It felt different from the rest of the strings. It resembled the essence of Stephen and that was to expected. She could sense a little but of Wong's but most of it was Stephen's doing. It was overly complex and far beyond Samrah's understanding. Afterall, she could barely open a portal with her sling-ring, which resided in her front pocket. It wasn't the most ideal place to put a rather large and metal magical artifact but it was the only place she knew she could put it and not forget.
Samrah enveloped herself in the mystical energy and searched through its properties. Samrah saw a spell a lot like code in a computer. The code could tell the computer what to do through instructions that were typed in. A spell was kind of the same concept. There little bits and pieces of magic that had different meanings and purposes to form a spell. It wasn't hard to find the individual piece that alerted anyone of an approaching entity. It was colored different from the rest, that made it easy for her to find. But then again, it made it easy for anyone to find. Samrah used her own magic as a tether. It connected a part of her consciousness with the alerting ward so that no matter where she went or how little she thought of it, she would always be able to feel the ward work when someone approached the door.
Samrah thrust herself out of the ward stream and decided to go and find someway to make the whispering voices in her head stop. She couldn't hear them now, she was probably too far away or they just weren't making any noise. Samrah thought she would know which stream of magic it was by the sound of it but as she glided from strand to strand, she couldn't hear them anywhere. Not a single voice, not a sound. It felt odd to not have the voices bombarding her head. It had felt normal after she had gotten used to it, she felt lonely, weird, incomplete. It was for the best, though. They bothered just as much as she relied on them.
Samrah was about to jump to the next stream when she heard them. The voices... They were here. Somewhere. Samrah tried to search the energy strands to pinpoint their location but she couldn't. It was like they weren't in any of the streams of magic. They were all around her, though. Echoing, calling, screaming, crying, and howling. Where were they? They sounded like they were in trouble! She had to find them and help them. If she could.
Samrah's thoughts fled in a panic, her concentration cracking slowly. She fought to hold onto the stream she was currently in but she kept slipping up time after time. Finally, she lost her hold. She felt herself plummet into the darkness below and her screaming voice joined the others. She could hear them. They were closer! Where were they? ...They couldn't be...
Were the voices trapped in the void? As they grew louder Samrah realized she was in the void. Her panic rose and she desperately tried to get back up to the stream of the Sanctum as it floated farther and farther away. Louder, louder, farther, farther. Samrah was drifting slowly now. Her thoughts a mess and her throat felt raw from screaming, even though she distinctly knew she didn't have a throat in this plane of existence. In this plane she had no way of going back now that she was in the dark abyss of nothing.
She had no hope of reaching herself---
Samrah felt a tug on her magical energy. She was flung up like a rag doll for a split second. And then she continued to drift down farther. She felt it again, throwing her up farther this time before letting her back down. The tug felt familiar to her distant and jumbled thoughts. Samrah was thrown up again, harder and harder. As she saw the lights of the Sanctum draw closer she realized that it was the tether to the ward that was pulling her up. How was it doing that, though? It wasn't possible unless someone else was yanking it...
Samrah gasped for air and her eyes snapped open. Her eyesight adjusted and she noticed she was staring at the ceiling. The dark mahogany of the Sanctum was welcoming, a sweet relief. Her heartbeat resumed it's thudding and filled her lungs with breath and her limbs with life. Her hands were tingling like they had been asleep for hours. Samrah closed her eyes slowly, tasting the pleasant air that her mouth sucked in. When she opened them again she met the sharp, disapproving eyes of Stephen. Samrah felt like she was dying all over again because his gaze was sharper than a knife and more terrifying than any abyss she could fall into.
"You can see it all, can't you?" He said curtly, his voice edged with anger.
Samrah looked away for a moment. "Yes..."
Stephen pursed his lips and cursed himself. "I should've known that would happen." He held out his hand and Samrah hesitated to take it. Stephen grunted and grabbed her hand and yanked her up. When Samrah had successfully landed on her feet, Stephen turned away, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Stephen, I--" She was cut off when he abruptly faced her. His eyes were laced with fury and his brows were crunched in worry. His voice was quick and to the point and cut into Samrah's gut like a dagger.
"I told you to only stay to the one current." He snapped. "I TOLD you NOT to be distracted by the others and I SPECIFICALLY told you NOT TO GO INTO THE ABYSS! IF YOU COULD EVEN SEE IT AT ALL!"
Samrah flinched and looked away, tears brimming in her eyes. She knew what he was saying was true. He had told her all of that, she listened, sort of. The look in his eyes, the tone in his voice... It made Samrah want to curl up in her bed and disappear for a month. His anger could shake a mountain. Stephen took a deep breath and rubbed his hands on his face. They were shaking more than normal. She couldn't imagine what he thought when he saw her lying on the ground... Pale, lifeless, barely breathing...
"I'm sorry." Samrah squeaked out. Her voice lost on her.
"You're sorry?" Stephen cleared his voice and lowered his volume. "Sorry doesn't fix it." He paused for a moment. "Why didn't you tell me you could see it? The energy of the Sanctum? I asked you and you said no."
"I-I don't know..."
"Were you afraid?" He asked.
"I... don't know." She replied again.
"What do you mean you don't know?! They're your thoughts!" Stephen shouted.
Samrah flinched again.
"You're lucky I was here and I was lucky you tethered yourself to the ward. That's the one thing I asked you to do that you did!"
"I'm sorry..." She said again, squeezing her hands until they were white. They were starting to lose feeling, again. Samrah thought she deserved it, though. She'd made him so angry. All she could think of was the voices. She should tell Stephen about the voices but something inside of her was telling her no. Her instincts have always kept her from danger, Samrah would listen to them. They were reliable. She hoped...
Stephen took another deep breath and he seemed to calm down. He noticed Samrah's death squeeze on her own hands and gently pried them apart. "I forgive you. Just... Don't do it again. Remember rule number two?"
Samrah stiffened. She did and she broke it. "Always follow my instructions." Samrah repeated as the words came to mind.
"Of course, you remember..." He muttered under his breath. "I have some new clothes for you in your room. I bought four pairs of socks and all the other things girls like you need. Almost all, I guess... I'll let Christine do that with you." Stephen turned to walk down the stairs. Samrah's interest now perked, she followed him. The anger from their earlier conversation seemed to slip off his shoulders. Which was good for her because she had some questions that might have made him irritated if he were still angry.
"Who's Christine?" Samrah asked, trying to catch up with him. Her short legs did not allow her to cover as much distance as his legs did. Stephen's long strides carried him confidently down the stairs while Samrah was tripping over her own feet. His face was cool and calm but he didn't look at her once. That made it hard for her to tell is he was still angry or not but at least he wasn't yelling at her anymore.
"She's a friend of mine." His eyes sparked for a single moment. A moment so small that not just anybody could notice. Samrah noticed, she noticed everything that shone in his eyes. He probably didn't notice how much he showed Samrah through the rounded windows of sight. They were intelligent and wise but his eyes still held the fire of youth. "She's coming over tonight. She is really excited to meet you."
Samrah heart fell to her stomach. They were expecting company? That would've been better to know so she could prepare. Even though she had gotten used to being around Wong and Stephen, social interacting still made her a bit queasy. She blamed it on her years of solitude. It wasn't her fault that none of the caretakers would let her outside or to school or anywhere for that matter. She had barely left the fifth of the orphanage during her time there. Samrah was sure Christine was nice woman. The spark in Stephen's eyes told her so. That fleeting moment was filled with pride, remorse, anger, sadness, happiness, and so much more. He had so many emotions to describe her in one moment but it was always different when he looked at Samrah. His eyes held emotions that were unreadable and Samrah still couldn't figure it out. Why...
"Oh." Samrah replied quietly.
Stephen sighed as they reached the end of the staircase. "I know how you feel about new people but I feel like this is preparation for you. Also, Christine hasn't stopped nagging more for weeks about arranging a time for her to meet you."
"Preparation?" Samrah asked. What would socializing with Christine help her with? Maybe it would increase her ability to open a Sling-Ring portal. That made her excited but Stephen's answer brought a whole new anxiety that was much larger than any dinner would bring her.
"It's preparing you for school, Samrah. I've decided to send you."
Samrah felt her legs wobble as her breath was stolen from her. She felt like she was dying all over again. The world spun around her and she fought to keep her balance. Stephen noticed her distraught and put on arm around her body. It was warm and comforting but also tense. It seemed to bother him as much as it did her. She didn't know why. She didn't know the answer to most things he decided upon. Samrah knew he probably meant well...but going into the school year when it's barely begun with students she doesn't know, teachers she doesn't know, with hallways she's not familiar with, with crowds of sweaty teenager, with stacks of homework, with more stress than she gets normally, late nights studying schoolwork and the Mystic Arts... The list was endless. She would have complained and made him think otherwise but there was a certain excitement in her too. Samrah had always wanted to go to school and begged the orphanage caretakers to pay for her to go but she was always refused.
"What school am I going to?" Samrah asked.
"I don't quite remember the name but it's down in Queens." Stephen glanced at Samrah and rolled his eyes once another panic attack washed over. "Oh, you'll be fine. It's full of nice students and teachers. Okay? Stop freaking out. I promise it will be okay." His voice softened and the sharp glare in his eyes receded. "I wouldn't have chosen it if I knew it would be wrong for you."
Samrah nodded, she understood but it didn't stop her from worrying. Something gave her the feeling that this school would bring another unexpected and unwanted change to her life.
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Peter kicked his feet underneath the seat. He was waiting in the office. The principal had called him up from fifth hour and it made him a little nervous. He wasn't called the principal's office often. Except for that one time he ditched detention. Peter hadn't gotten a huge punishment for it. Just a week's worth of more detention and it bother him one bit. It had given him a chance to catch up on schoolwork he had missed chasing the Vulture.
The click of a lock and the opening of a door caught his attention. Behind the secretaries desk to the right, the door to the principal's office creaked open. To the normal hearing of a kid his age, the opening and creak of hinges would have been completely silent. But he heard it. Every little squeak of screws and bolts working to move the door open and closed. It made him appreciate craftsmanship a little more since he could hear and see how it worked better thanks to his improved spider-senses.
Peter sat up quickly when the principal motioned for him to come inside. He entered the office and the door shut behind him. The principal offered a seat but Peter refused. Something told him he wasn't going to be in her for very long and he wasn't in trouble. It looked like the principal just wanted to talk to him. Nothing to worry about... He hoped.
"Peter, you're probably wondering why I brought you in here." He said.
Peter nodded. Wasn't it obvious?
The principal leaned back in his vinyl, black office chair. The wheels squeaked beneath his weight and the vinyl moaned. The chair was obviously old but it looked like it was in great condition. THe vinyl was a shiny ebony and the armrests were still in working condition.
"There's a new student coming tomorrow."
Peter's interest piqued. They didn't get new students often. It was a rare occasion mostly due to the fact that Queens was small and this was the only school close enough for kids without a subway card, vehicle or any other form of travel. He'd been going to school with the same kids for years. Some moved away and others came to replace them but again, it was rare for it to happen. Especially so close to the middle of the year.
"They've never been to public school before and I'm counting on you to make them feel welcome." The principal added, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together.
"Why me?" Peter asked.
"You're kind, relatable, and have been here longer than most students here. Plus, you're a Senior and she's going to be a Sophomore. Also, I feel like you'll be a great guide and first friend. Her father--er--guardian said she's extremely shy and nervous. You'll be a great match." He explained.
Peter tilted his head. He didn't know how that added up. Sure, Peter was quite most of the time but his personality was rather spontaneous and excitable. Nothing he thought would mesh well with someone who was reserved and shy. It wasn't his decision to make, though. If the principal thought he'd be good for it than he must be. How hard could it be? All he had to do was show her around for a while and then he was done. Easy peasy.
"Okay." Peter agreed.
"Thank you, Peter. You can go back to fifth period."
Peter nodded and showed his way out the door, out the office, and into the hallways. The hall was silent, except for the pat of his shoes against the white tile. It echoed off the lonely green lockers stacked upon each other in height that nearly reached the ceiling. He passed by his locker, the bottom slightly dented from all the time he's picked it up and dropped it back down. His fifth hour was near his locker. Just ten steps from it, actually, if he kept his stride even. The hour was his least favorite. English and literature never excited him. He really felt no purpose to finding figurative language or voice from an author. He had Honor's Biochemistry next which made him excited. He liked tampering with chemicals. Especially when it gave him a chance to create new web formula's. This next one he was working on would hopefully not dissolve when water hit it.
Just before he opened the door, the silhouette of the girl on the rooftop slid into his mind. He paused, surprised and confused. He hadn't thought about the girl in about a week. Why did she suddenly wiggle her way into his thoughts. What was it about this girl that made him not forget her? Why couldn't he just leave her alone and move on. It was insane, crazy. It was a problem. He had a girlfriend. He shouldn't be thinking about anyone else besides Aunt May, Ned and Mr. Stark. He shoved the image from his mind and opened the door. His gut wrenched when he noticed Michelle staring at him. She noticed his hesitation to open the door. She noticed everything about him... Well, not everything. Wait, no, he took that back.
***
Peter couldn't sleep that night. He was tossing and turning. Unable to find a perfect position for sleep. It wasn't the same dream tonight. It was different and it terrified him. It was filled with darkness, infinite darkness. No light, nothing. It was cold and empty, he could barely even smell the comforting scent of his bedsheets through the nightmare.
There were voices whispering and screaming all around him. It punched and pounded his head like multiple bombs. The pain was sharp and unrelenting. He felt like screaming but he had no mouth and no sound in this inky abyss of nothing. He was in pain, it felt like it had that day before another form of blackness took life from him. Agony, pain and agony. It was mindless pain, mindless and silent screaming, He couldn't escape it. Fresh fire, raining from his eyelids. The fire flew around him and the blackness was no longer blackness.
The fire swirled around him in great torrents of heat. It was impressive and terrifying. Beautiful and malicious. It drew him to it, licking on the side of his thoughts and consuming his sight. The fire morphed and shaped, always changing and sparking with intense fury. Finally, they took form. Fiery eyes with the abyss of the darkness as the pupils. They stared at him and consumed everything he was. He no longer felt like screaming and just drifted in the madness of fire and fury.