Tylarah FireWynd Ch. 02

When Farlight had left (with a suspicious bulge in his trousers that she was sure he would never admit was because of her), Tylarah settled back down onto the bench seat. She still needed more sleep, and it was a long journey up to the portal in Kendal. It was a damned good job it was not too far from the train station there, or she would have gone crazy. She had to get back to her house in Leithwaite, a fairly quiet suburb of Rithran, the magical city where just about every witch on her plane of existence lived.

It was accessible only by portal, as it had been suspended in another dimension by the Mage Lords centuries ago. Tylarah spent a lot of time in the human world for a Witch, she supposed it was because she was so used to living there. She had only recently discovered that she was a Witch, when her powers had been tapped by an argument in her local bar.

It was a complete surprise to her at the time, though looking back now; she could see that she had her powers all through her life. Tylarah was always gifted with being able to start small fires easily and keep the campfire under control but she never guessed that she had the magical control of two elements, which was a rare gift, even among the Magic community. Fire and Wind, hence why she changed her name once she found out. Well, it was tradition in the magical community, and it sounded rather more magical than just "Jennings".

It had scared her when her powers revealed their full extent. She had been arguing with a letch bastard in a bar, after he had been trying to feel her up all night. Tylarah had raised her hand and pointed right in his face while she shouted every reason why men were all worthless at him. The man had virtually wet himself and backed off quickly as she reached the height of her fury. Tylarah had sat back down on her barstool feeling rather proud of herself, once the man had fled from the bar. Putting her hand up to call the barman over and get herself another shot, she had seen her hand. It was glowing with a purple flame like she had never seen before, but it was not burning her hand. It did not even feel any warmer than the rest of the bar. It took her about five more seconds to get out of the bar and back into her car.

Tylarah had sat there for a full half an hour, staring at her hand. The purple flame had disappeared, but she could not help but keep staring in disbelief. She popped out of her trance with a thought, she could not drive home like this, too much drink and a shock of her life would not make her the best driver in the world. So she had climbed out of her car, locked it and hailed a taxi.

Tylarah had returned to her house in what seemed like the blink of an eye, she had threw her handbag on the sofa and sat down heavily beside it, still thinking. The thoughts had been spinning around her head like a blender, mixing together and ending up with a stew of words that only served to confuse her more. She needed something to distract her. Television. She had set the TV blaring, and sat, watching it without taking anything in for Gods-know how long. No matter how hard she tried, she could not think of any sort of explanation for what happened that was even remotely grounded in logic and reason.

Tylarah had still yet to figure out what exactly it was that had brought her out of the trance in front of the television back then. There was just some sort of thing that had clicked in her mind, and told her that she had to get a grip, and listen.

"I suppose it was a bit of a shock," the voice came from behind her, and it was impossibly smooth.

Spinning round and somehow managing to stand at the same time, Tylarah looked at the man standing in her kitchenette. The first thing about him that hit her was the blackness of him. All of his clothes, his hair and even his eyes, were blacker than the darkest night she had ever seen.

"What the fuck are you doing in here? And how the hell did you get in anyway!?" she screamed at him in one long breath.

"Calm yourself, I mean you no harm," the man continued. He leant up from her kitchen table, and paced a few steps forwards. "It must have scared you half to death. It certainly shocked us,"

"What scared me? Nothing scared me! Who do you mean 'us'?"

"My, you do ask a lot of questions, don't you? I suppose you will want answers though, its understandable,"

"Damn right!" was the only thing that Tylarah could think to shout at the man. He had clearly not been attempting to rape or rob her, but Gods knew what his agenda was. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now.

"Well," the man begun, "first off, I am Shyrrick. And you, my dear, are a Witch." He paused for a while to let that little nugget sink in. Tylarah remained standing, and blinked for a while.

"What? You never thought that it was strange how you could feel the fires that you made? You never thought it strange how you liked windy days, and never felt the cold?"

"Well, I... I," she stammered, faltered and frowned.

"True, it has come late for you, but it is the truth. You must learn to accept your gift, or it is you that shall become the danger." Shyrrick approached Tylarah, holding out one hand he said: "You will have to trust me, if you wish to see proof,"

"Why should I? You're just some creepy guy that's broken into my house! You're just about the last person that I would trust at the minute." She began to seethe a little. How dare this man invade her privacy, her home, and tell her that she was some sort of magical freak. She could feel a heat begin to rage inside her, the same as when she had been shouting at the letch in the bar.

Shyrrick stepped further towards her and she instantly put up her fists to protect herself. That self-defence course would come in handy after all.

"Don't come near me!" she shouted, "I have training,"

"My dear, do you honestly think that I would try and take you on with physical violence. No, no, I wouldn't try something so, hmmm, primitive. Besides, look at your hands, is that not proof enough?"

"Wha?!" Tylarah's hands had been enveloped in the same purple fire that had first so scared her in the bar. "What is this?" she demanded of Shyrrick.

"Like I said, you are a Witch. And that, is magic. Your magic, to be precise." He moved, gracefully, over to her sofa as she backed away, again staring at her hands in disbelief. He had sat down on her sofa as she backed into the wall and slumped down it, her hands in front of her face. As she reached the floor, she had looked towards him. Shyrrick was sat back on her sofa, with his legs neatly crossed at the knee and his fingers arched.

"Now are you going to listen to me? Yes, good." He said, his voice never wavering.

Tylarah sat on her floor, the cold of it focusing her mind as she listened to every word Shyrrick said to her as he explained what she had become. His smooth voice was soothing as he told her of the ancient powers that lay in certain humans, and how, when they were awakened, the humans became Witches. He told her that although it was unusual for a woman of her age to reveal her powers now, as it usually happened during their teens, it was not entirely unheard of. He also told her that is was unusual for someone to have control over two elements like she did. As he explained what Rithran was, and how to get there, who lived there and what they all did. Basically, he explained everything she needed to know.