All that is left of me are memories; ancient memories, sad memories, and cherished memories.
It felt like I had lived grandmother’s life; like I was her, and the women before her, and the women before them.
I saw the beginning of my bloodline, traced all the way to the first; the witch who didn’t burn. I saw the sufferings that came with our gifts —gifts that the world insisted was a curse, gifts that were cleansed off the face of earth. I saw why it could be a curse; the destruction it brings, the suffering it could cause, was as equal as what it had witnessed. But I also saw the beauty; magic was brutal, but it was splendid. It was beyond; something greater than a single person; something stronger.
The memories rose up to meet me in a vision. One after the other, they unloaded their b
