Recognition of the fact gave way to pain and that pain was a kind Celia never experienced before, she couldn't even imagine what it would be like. Soon, a constant trickle of warm liquid was making its way down on her cheeks, but she knew it wasn't her tears, it was the blood slowly dripping from Tom's forehead, a fact that Celia seemed to have overlooked, he was still fighting with the men standing over the corpse in front of her. One of them was holding her grandmother's severed head up for everyone to see, enjoying the expression of destruction and fury that was now plastered onto Tom's face, mingled with blood and sweat that made his hair stick closely.
She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, but she couldn't do anything, all that she was able was to be at the mercy of the big arm holding her, while her fingers trembled trying to hold on. Her head started hurting and before she could even cry out, numerous shrieks were heard instead of the clinking of swords. A warm wave enveloped her as she saw herself distancing from the now ruined living room while a crimson ball of fire was surrounding her and Tom. She could see the whole room being destroyed by sharpened vines, piercing the flesh and the insides of the men, restraining and pinning them to the floor as they withered in pain, until there wasn't anything left to see, the floor beneath her was covered in the now still row of plants and small yellow flowers started taking shape all around. The once red floor was now a yellow carpet that soon enough turned into white under the eyes of the young witch. Rising even higher, the last thing young Celia saw was the white puff spiraling and dancing around, covering the city, fading out the sound of the bustling street and finally covering what was once her home. As the warmth around her intensified, she silently slipped into an unconscious state, letting herself be transported around by the comforting arms shielding her little body.
****
A ray of light shined into the little old cottage deep in the forest, a bird could be heard outside and the rustle of nature flowed to all the corners of the house. It was a beautiful day outside, the sun was warm and welcoming and the fresh breeze slightly made its way through the cracks of the old windows. All nature seemed to be bursting with life, but this only served to accentuate the dark air that was surrounding the two people inside.
The cottage was as simple as it could be, roughed up by the numerous storms it had seen and it had a single, simple room and a kitchen which was small enough to accommodate just one person at a time. In the tiny bedroom of the worn-out home, there was a wooden bed that creaked under the weight of two people, as the unexpected burden almost made it break.
Soon enough, the bed stopped making any noise because the only occupant was a young unmoving girl, whose black curls were hanging over her eyes, moistened by sweat and tears. Tom was pacing around the narrow chamber with his blonde hair sticking stubbornly on his sweaty neck and breathing roughly muttering to himself.
"Damn it!, Damn it all the stupid people!" he shouted in a fit that made his breathing hitch even more. "I will never forgive that cowardly King, even if it takes me all my life, I will make sure that Celia will be happy and safe from his clutches." Just the thought of what happened before, how the old body of Beatrix was laying in a pool of her own blood, and how they had enjoyed killing her and making a show out of it all, only made Tom feel even more enraged and was reminiscing the screams he heard when Celia used her power with a slight smile on his lips.
When the trembling of his hands subsided he took a look at the young Celia who was lying curled up in the bed. Sweat was flowing down her youthful face that was contorted into a grim expression, her eyes were trembling slightly and her lips were cracked and crooked, contrasting sadly with the radiant smiling girl Tom once knew. His attention was diverted to her being as she whimpered and took hold of her own neck strangling it.
"Celia, wake up!" he shouted, still filled with shock and sorrow, but under the influence of the adrenaline that filled his body as he exerted all his powers to be able to escape from that place. His hands grabbed her own hands and unclutched them, soon she was grabbing his arm and her nails were buried deep in his skin.
"It's okay little one..." he shushed her trying to calm her down. She was obviously filled with anxiety and using her own powers at such a large scale must have been very tiring for her. She needed rest, and then he will take care of her like he promised Beatrix.
The old bed squeaked again as Tom's weight was added when he pulled Celia into his arms and slightly moved to fit beside her. The two bodies laid entangled into the old white sheets while their breath regained its usual rhythm, lulled by the feeling of warmth emanating from each other.
Nightmares flooded Tom as the night came and went, and his only solace was the fact that when his eyes would open to assert where he was, he would see the young witch, the most precious treasure of Beatrix, sitting tightly in his arms, breathing faintly and clutching to his own body. Blood stained the sheets and trickled on the wooden floor but nothing could make Tom leave the comfort of the youth, as his only relief consisted of the fact that he managed to save her from the clutches of the hired assassins.