Mirai

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I saw her again. That unbelievably beautiful girl. I couldn't actually see her though. I knew I stood right in front of her, I reached out for her. But I couldn't touch her and I couldn't make out any of her features. But I knew she was beautiful. Like a goddess.

I opened my eyes and breathed out heavily. I sat in a tailor-position on a pair of frilly cushions in the middle of a room where both the floor and walls were made from some white stone. Candles were lit in a wide circle around me. Two women sat on the floor as well, behind a low wooden table, with their eyes fixed on me.

"What did you see?" the Priestess asked me. The impatience was clear in her blue eyes and I knew my answer would make her angry.

"The girl," I said. "I can still only see the girl. But... Her face still isn't clear. I have no idea who she is."

The Priestess slammed her hand onto the table, and the loud bang made me jump slightly. One of the candles fell over, the flame disappeared as it did.

"This is unacceptable!" she yelled at me, the normally tight bun she had her brown hair in looked to be falling apart. "Are you really your mother's daughter? You've received the best training since you were born. How is it possible for you to not do better?"

"You know her, Priestess," a blonde woman sneered from the side. "She's always slacking off. I bet she doesn't train at all outside of your sessions."

"That's not true!" I immediately shouted back, though I should have known better. What I said never mattered, because the fact was that I hadn't been able to advance my gift at all. But it wasn't as if I hadn't tried. Ever since I had seen that girl for the first time when I was ten, I had desperately wanted to know who she actually was.

But they didn't see my efforts, only my lack of progress.

"Please leave my sight," the Priestess spat out.

"Gladly," I muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. As I stood, an invisible force pushed me forward, and my body slammed into the door that opened from the impact. I tumbled out, hit the hard floor and managed to catch the Priestess' contemptuous look before the door was shut with a bang again.

"Stupid, idiotic, cranky old lady," I told the door before getting up.

I had never seen eye to eye with the Priestess. Probably because I wasn't what she excepted, and that infuriated her.

My mom came from a long line of witches who were specifically gifted in sight, seeing the future and the past. My mom was alright at it, much better than ungifted witches, but not to the extent the stories said my grandma had been. When I was born, the Priestess had put a lot of hope in me to become the best.

My eyes were a big contributing factor to her hope. One was green, the other blue. She had told me so many times while I was much younger that it was a sure sign that I was special, that I was gifted.

But alas, I was way worse than my mom. I was probably worse than an ungifted witch who had received training.

So the hope had turned to frustration to anger to now borderline spite and the compliments I had received about my eyes had turned to mockery. I was sure that even if I miraculously improved tomorrow, she would still hate on me together with her bimbo sidekick.

Tomorrow... My eighteenth birthday.

They never said anything about it, but I knew they held high hopes that a miracle would happen. Fat chance. I would just end up being yelled at on my birthday and then forced to sit and meditate the whole day.

Honestly, I sometimes didn't get why I was still there. Okay, partly there was Mom. But I knew she would understand if I left. She begged the Priestess to go easy on me about once a week. So if I decided to leave, she would probably foresee it and help me pack.

But every time I thought about leaving, my heart felt heavy. It was almost like it told me to stay. Or that was what I imagined. I had a bit too much hope that the feeling somehow was related to my gift and that I, for some reason, had to stay in my wretched coven.

That would have been nice. That there was some cosmic grand plan which made my eighteen miserable years worth it.

I got out of the coven's main building. Outside of it was a lawn and since it was one of the first warm spring days, it was full of people sitting around. Most of them just talked about random stuff while a few had books open to study.

As I stepped out, a group of five looked up and my way.

"How did it go for our precious freak-eye?" one of them asked, and the other four sniggered.

The one who had spoken was the self-announced leader of the younger generation of witches in the coven, Candie. Though there's nothing sweet about her at all. She's good at looking sweet in pink and girly dresses, but she needed a thick layer of makeup to hide her two-faced snake face.

"As well as always," I answered, but didn't stop walking away from there. I knew what they would try to do, how the conversation would go.

"Still bragging about seeing the same girl for eighteen years?"

"Yup. Exactly. Bragging."

"Going to give up on your imaginary friend soon?" Candie laughed. "You're really something though. You're not even skilled enough to properly imagine your imaginary friend."

It was the same insult as it had been for forever. The problem was that it did hurt. Not for the reason they thought. Not for the insult against me. They could insult me as much as they wanted, but to hell with them for claiming the girl was imaginary!

I stopped in my tracks and looked back. Fire burned in my eyes.