The sun dipped low in the sky, casting an eerie, orange glow over Port Sulphur, Louisiana. The swamps surrounding the small town seemed to come alive at dusk, with the chorus of croaking frogs and the distant hum of cicadas filling the thick, humid air. Zavianna LeBlanc, a thirteen-year-old girl with bright eyes and a smile that could light up any room, walked slowly behind the procession of mourners. The day had been unbearably hot, but as the sun set, a chill crept into the air, making her shiver despite the sweat still clinging to her skin.

Her best friend, Annabelle, lay in the wooden coffin being carried towards the family's small plot of land. Annabelle had died suddenly, leaving Zavianna reeling from the loss. They had been inseparable, their bond as strong as sisters. Zavianna's heart felt heavy with grief, each step towards the burial site amplifying the weight.

Zavianna's parents, who had always been loving and supportive, walked ahead of her. Her mother's shoulders shook with silent sobs, while her father's face was a mask of stoic pain. They had always been a close-knit family, their home filled with laughter and love. But today, the weight of sorrow had cast a dark shadow over them all.

The funeral took place under the sprawling branches of an ancient oak tree. The ground beneath was soft and damp, the smell of earth mixing with the sweet, decaying scent of the surrounding swamp. Zavianna's eyes were fixed on the coffin as it was lowered into the freshly dug grave. She could hardly believe that her friend was gone, that she would never hear Annabelle's laugh or see her smile again.

The priest began to speak, his voice a low murmur of prayers and condolences. Zavianna barely heard him, her mind consumed by memories of Annabelle. They had shared everything – secrets, dreams, fears. Annabelle had been the one constant in her life, the one person who understood her completely. Zavianna's tears fell freely, her chest heaving with silent sobs.

As the final prayers were said and the mourners began to disperse, Zavianna remained by the graveside, unable to tear herself away. Her parents approached her, their faces etched with concern.

"Come on, sweetheart," Her father said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder, "It's time to go home."

Zavianna shook her head, her eyes never leaving the coffin, "I can't leave her, Papa. I can't say goodbye."

Her mother knelt beside her, wrapping her arms around her daughter, "Annabelle will always be with you, in your heart. She wouldn't want you to be sad."

Zavianna clung to her mother, the dam of her emotions breaking.

"I miss her so much," She whispered.

The sky had darkened, the first stars beginning to twinkle in the twilight. As the last of the mourners left, Zavianna's parents reluctantly led her away, promising to return in the morning to pay their respects again. Zavianna walked in a daze, her mind replaying the moments she had shared with Annabelle. Each step away from the grave felt like a betrayal.

That night, Zavianna couldn't sleep. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts consumed by Annabelle. The house was silent, her parents having retired early, exhausted by the day's events. The moon cast a pale glow through her window, illuminating her room with an otherworldly light.

Unable to bear the solitude any longer, Zavianna slipped out of bed and quietly left the house. She made her way back to the graveyard, the path familiar even in the darkness. The swamp seemed alive with whispers, the trees casting long, skeletal shadows across the ground.

When she reached Annabelle's grave, she collapsed beside it, her body wracked with sobs. She poured out her grief, her tears soaking into the freshly turned earth.

"I wish you were here," She whispered into the night, "I wish I could see you one more time."

As if in response to her plea, a strange sensation washed over her. Her heart began to race, a tingling feeling spreading through her body. She felt an overwhelming urge to sing, a haunting melody rising unbidden from her lips. Her voice, clear and ethereal, filled the night air, carrying her sorrow and longing.

The ground beneath her began to tremble, the vibrations intensifying with each note she sang. Zavianna's eyes widened in fear, but she couldn't stop the song. It was as if some unseen force had taken control, guiding her voice and movements.

The coffin in the grave began to shake, the lid creaking open. Zavianna's song grew louder, more desperate, as she watched in horror. Annabelle's lifeless body slowly rose from the coffin, her eyes blank and unseeing. She stood there, a macabre figure in the moonlight, her movements jerky and unnatural.

Zavianna's heart pounded in her chest, her mind screaming in terror. She stumbled backward, her song faltering. Annabelle's head snapped towards her, responding to the change. Zavianna clamped her hands over her mouth, the song dying in her throat.

The silence that followed was deafening. Annabelle stood motionless, her eyes fixed on Zavianna. The young girl felt a cold dread settle over her, the reality of what she had done sinking in. She had reanimated her best friend, bringing her back as a zombie.

"Annabelle?" She whispered, her voice trembling, "Is that you?"

The zombie made no response, its eyes vacant. Zavianna's fear turned to panic as she realized the full extent of her actions. She had tampered with forces beyond her understanding, and now she faced the consequences.

She turned and fled, her heart pounding in her ears. She didn't stop until she reached her home, bursting through the door and collapsing into her parents' arms. They held her, their faces etched with worry and confusion, as she sobbed uncontrollably.

"What happened, Zavianna?" Her father asked, his voice gentle but firm, "Tell us what's wrong."

Through her tears, Zavianna recounted the events at the graveyard. Her parents listened in stunned silence, their expressions shifting from concern to fear. When she finished, her mother's face was pale, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"This isn't possible," Her father muttered, shaking his head, "It can't be true."

But Zavianna knew it was true. She could feel the lingering effects of her powers, the strange energy that had flowed through her still pulsing in her veins. She had reanimated the dead, and there was no denying it.

Word of what had happened spread quickly through Port Sulphur, and the once-loving community turned against Zavianna. She was labeled a monster, a freak, and whispers of witchcraft and dark magic followed her wherever she went.

The days following the funeral were a waking nightmare for Zavianna. The townspeople's whispers grew louder, their stares more accusing. Everywhere she went, she felt the weight of their fear and suspicion pressing down on her. Her once-safe world had turned hostile and cold.

Zavianna's parents, who had always been her pillars of support, could no longer look at her without a shadow of fear in their eyes. Her mother's hands, once so warm and comforting, now trembled whenever she reached out to touch her. Her father, who had always spoken to her with unwavering confidence, now stammered and avoided her gaze.

One afternoon, as Zavianna returned from the market, where the usual friendly faces now turned away in disgust, she found her worst fears realized. She approached her house to find her belongings strewn across the front steps. Clothes, books, and toys were scattered haphazardly, the remnants of her life tossed out like garbage.

Her heart pounded as she ran to the door, desperately hoping this was some cruel mistake. She tried the handle, but it was locked. She pounded on the door, tears streaming down her face, "Mama! Papa! Please, open the door! Let me in!"

There was no answer. She could hear movement inside, the soft murmur of voices, but no one came to the door. Her sobs grew louder, each cry for help met with silence. Finally, through a crack in the curtains, she saw her mother's face, pale and drawn, her eyes red from crying.

"Mama, please," Zavianna begged, her voice breaking, "I don't know what happened. I didn't mean to do it. Please, let me in."

Her mother's eyes met hers for a brief moment, filled with a mixture of sorrow and fear. Then she turned away, disappearing into the darkness of the house. The sound of footsteps receding into the distance was the final blow, confirming that her own family had abandoned her.

Zavianna sank to her knees, her body racked with sobs. She gathered her scattered belongings, each item a painful reminder of the life she had lost. Her favorite dress, now dirty and torn, her cherished books, their pages crumpled and stained. She packed everything into a small bag, her hands trembling.

As the sun set, casting long shadows over the town, Zavianna stood up and began to walk. She didn't know where she was going, only that she had to leave. The sky darkened, and the cool night air chilled her to the bone, but she kept walking. Her feet ached, and her body felt heavy with exhaustion, but she didn't stop.

The memories of her childhood played in her mind like a cruel joke. She remembered the laughter, the warmth of her parents' embrace, the joy she had shared with Annabelle. Each step took her further away from those happy times, each step a reminder of the life she could never return to.

As she walked through the outskirts of town, the landscape around her changed. The familiar houses and streets gave way to the wild, untamed beauty of the Louisiana swamps. The moonlight filtered through the dense foliage, casting an eerie glow on the path ahead. The sounds of the swamp, once comforting, now seemed sinister and foreboding.

Zavianna's legs grew weaker, each step more difficult than the last. She stumbled and fell, her knees hitting the rough ground. She cried out in pain, but no one was there to hear her. The loneliness was suffocating, the weight of her isolation pressing down on her like a physical force.

She tried to stand, but her body refused to cooperate. Exhausted and broken, she collapsed onto the ground, her tears soaking into the earth. The world around her blurred, her vision dimming as she struggled to stay conscious. Her last thoughts were of Annabelle, her best friend who had been the first to abandon her, albeit unintentionally.

"Annabelle, I'm so sorry," She whispered into the darkness, her voice barely audible, "I didn't mean to do this. I didn't want any of this."

The night air grew colder, the sounds of the swamp fading into the background. Zavianna's eyes fluttered closed, her body finally giving in to the exhaustion. She lay there, alone and forgotten, the moon casting a pale light over her still form.

Hours passed, and the night deepened. The stars shone brightly above, indifferent to the suffering below. Zavianna's breathing grew shallow, her body trembling with the cold.

Zavianna woke to the gentle creaking of wood and the faint scent of herbs and incense. She found herself lying on a soft, patchwork quilt in a small, dimly lit room. The walls were adorned with vibrant tapestries, and shelves lined with jars of mysterious ingredients filled the space with an otherworldly charm.

The events of the previous days came rushing back to her. She remembered the funeral, her best friend's coffin shaking, and the horrified looks on everyone's faces as Annabelle emerged as a zombie. She remembered her parents locking her out, her belongings strewn across the front steps, and the long, lonely walk until she collapsed. She remembered the soft, comforting voice of the woman who found her.

She sat up, her body still aching from exhaustion. The room felt both strange and familiar, filled with a sense of warmth she hadn't felt in days. Yet, a deep-seated fear gnawed at her, a fear of the unknown, of what would happen next.

The door creaked open, and the woman who had saved her, Lisette, stepped inside carrying a tray of food. Lisette was a tall, regal woman with dark, soulful eyes that seemed to see right through Zavianna. Her presence was calming yet powerful, like a force of nature.

"You're awake," Lisette said with a gentle smile, "I brought you some food. You must be starving."

Zavianna's stomach growled in response, and she nodded, unable to find her voice. Lisette set the tray down on a small table beside the bed, and Zavianna's eyes widened at the sight of the hearty stew, fresh bread, and a steaming cup of tea.

"Eat, child," Lisette encouraged, sitting down in a chair beside the bed, "You need your strength."

Zavianna hesitated, her hands trembling as she reached for the spoon. The aroma of the stew was tantalizing, but her fear overshadowed her hunger. She took a small sip, the warmth of the food spreading through her, momentarily pushing back the cold that had settled in her bones.

Lisette watched her with a kind, understanding gaze, "You don't have to be afraid, Zavianna. You're safe here."

Zavianna looked up, her eyes wide and filled with uncertainty, "How do you know my name?"

Lisette smiled softly, "You were murmuring it in your sleep. You must have been through so much. Do you want to talk about it?"

Zavianna shook her head, the memories too painful to put into words. She took another sip of the stew, trying to steady her breathing. Lisette's presence was comforting, but Zavianna couldn't shake the feeling of unease. These women were strangers, and after what she had been through, trusting anyone seemed impossible.

As she ate in silence, Lisette observed her closely. She could see the haunted look in Zavianna's eyes, the way her hands trembled, the deep sadness and fear that seemed to cling to her like a shadow. Lisette had seen many things in her time, but the aura surrounding Zavianna was unlike anything she had ever encountered.

There was a chill in the room, a coldness that seemed to emanate from Zavianna herself. Lisette could almost taste the bitterness of death in the air, feel its icy grip. It was as if death itself was intertwined with this girl, following her like a dark specter.

Gently, Lisette reached out and placed a hand on Zavianna's arm. The moment their skin touched, the air in the room seemed to grow heavier, as if it had been sucked out. Lisette's eyes widened as she felt a surge of energy, a bone-chilling cold that sent shivers down her spine. She could see the green glow in Zavianna's eyes, a light that mirrored the eerie glow she had seen in the eyes of the dead.

"Mon Dieu," Lisette whispered, her voice barely audible, her words a prayer and a plea, "You are touched by death, child. A mutant, yes, but there is something more."

Zavianna pulled her arm back, her heart racing.

"What are you talking about?" She asked, her voice shaking. She stood up, the chair scraping against the floor as she backed away, "I need to leave. I shouldn't be here."

Lisette held up her hands in a calming gesture, "Please. Don't be afraid."

"No!" Zavianna cried, her voice breaking, "You don't understand."

She turned towards the door, but Lisette moved quickly, placing herself in Zavianna's path, "Listen to me, child. You are not alone. I know you're scared, but running away won't help. Let me help you."

Zavianna's breath came in ragged gasps, her vision blurred by tears. The weight of her fear and guilt threatened to crush her. She had no one left, no place to go. Her family had abandoned her, and the entire town saw her as a monster.

Lisette's eyes softened, filled with a deep empathy, "Zavianna, I understand your fear. But you have a gift, one that you need to learn to control. If you leave now, you'll only find more pain and suffering. Stay with us. We can teach you, guide you."

Zavianna hesitated, the turmoil in her heart reflected in her eyes. She wanted to trust Lisette, to believe that there was hope for her. But the fear was so overwhelming, the memories of the funeral and her parents' rejection so fresh.

Lisette reached out again, her touch gentle and reassuring," I am here for you."

The sincerity in Lisette's voice broke through Zavianna's defenses. She collapsed into Lisette's arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Lisette held her close, whispering soothing words in her mother tongue, her hand stroking Zavianna's hair.

The other witches in the house gathered silently, their faces etched with concern and compassion. They knew the struggles that came with power, the fear and isolation that often accompanied it. They had all faced their own battles, and now they would help Zavianna face hers.

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[ what do we think so far? ]