In an old-fashioned building in the middle of nowhere, Maven sat on the ornate chair and let out a heavy sigh. Black hair cascaded down her back onto spotless white robes and her sparkling obsidian eyes were hidden behind her hands as she pressed her face into them. The room she resided in was full of religious iconography from a hodgepodge of faiths, lending the area an air of holiness.
However, it was the girl within who exuded the most eye-catching atmosphere of all. She was clad in an unfathomable but comforting atmosphere, as if just being near her would heal even the most exhausted soul.
Ordinarily, her spotless light brown skin and soft expression would radiate a soft light - as if she were blessing the world with her presence - but currently, that radiance had dimmed to mild flicker.
"Ugh, today was exhausting," Maven whispered as she thought back.
Maven was the religious pillar of a cult. She didn't know who her parents were or where she came from, but from the time she was aware of her surroundings she was in the cult.
The group which raised her was kind and raised her with love, but things changed drastically when she was but a small child. Once, when one of the adults had cut his finger while cooking for the group Maven had walked over. Seeing the cut, she had held his finger and, as any child would, wished the pain the away.
Unlike any other child, however, the air above the cut shimmered and the wound began to close.
It's unknown how any normal parent would have reacted in this situation, but Maven was being raised in a cult. And the cult, witnessing a real miracle, raised quite the fuss. Maven quickly became the central figure of the cult, her healing powers serving as confirmation of their beliefs. A normal childhood was completely impossible, so she grew up isolated from those around her. All of the adults and children looked at her with nothing but reverence and awe.
All except one.
The 'leader' of the cult, a man named Abbott, saw an opportunity in Maven's gift. Not only to strengthen the faith of his existing followers, but to gather even more followers and donations. He would bring in the desperate and those too poor to afford proper medical care. And so the years went by and Maven grew from a small child to an adult.
There was little change in her life or surroundings on her journey to adulthood. Abbott would bring in a single prospective patient a week, carefully vetted according to the illness suffered, religious prospects, and assets available for 'donation.'
Her only window to the outside world lay in a small smart phone that a grateful patient had secretly given her. It was this small lifeline that allowed Maven to grow up with some semblance of a normal personality, the world of fiction leading her to consider herself just a normal girl with a small gift.
Maven found the religious fervor that others viewed her with as nothing but tiring. Her 'miracle' was nothing but a small power of rejuvenation. There were some ailments she could do little to treat.
When Abbott had brought a cancer patient for the first time in last month, Maven had held the woman's hand and exerted her power as she always had - but there was no change in the woman. In all previous patients, the improvement had always been immediate. Arthritis, dementia, organ failure, paralysis….. All of them had been healed almost instantly.
The kindly, wrinkled old woman had comforted Maven at her failure, but her son behind her appeared crestfallen and is if the world had ended. Abbott had to step in and comfort the young man, leading them out the door.
...
Face now planted on the desk, Maven thought back to the old woman she had failed to heal. The cult members had been crestfallen at her failure, as if their god had failed them.
Being looked at with those eyes for the last few months had steadily been draining Maven of her SAN points. At this point, Maven wanted nothing but to get whisked away somewhere where her power is considered nothing special.
*Rattle* The window made a noise as it slid open behind her. Considering Maven was by herself on the 3rd floor, the window should definitely not be opening on its own.
Maven creakily turned her head towards the window, only to see a filthy man squeezing himself into the room from outside.
"I've been looking for you, Maven!" The man screamed, his face a rather frightening juxtaposition of mad grin and tear-streaming grief.
With a common kitchen knife griped in one hand, the disheveled and mud-smeared man crept closer while muttering.
"You're going to pay. You're going to pay. YOU'RE GOING TO PAY. She was supposed to have two years left to live. We came to you for help, but instead you STOLE HER FROM ME!"
Maven was terrified. She was nothing but a sheltered girl, one who grew up without ever having to lift a finger and without ever being exposed to such malice.
As the knife came closer and closer, black dread rose from the pit of her stomach and crept into her very soul - the shadow of death was approaching. She was alone, she was weak and untrained, and she was paralyzed by fear.
"Please… N-No. I don't know who you mean, b-but maybe I can help you!"
"You've helped enough! You and your 'gift' of healing sent my mother's cancer into overdrive. She's gone because of you and now you're going to pay!"
With those words, Maven finally remembered the woman she had failed to heal and her face drained of color. The only cancer patient she had ever attempted to treat.
Before she could think any deeper, the man closed the distance and made the final leap forward. The knife slammed into her chest, blood flew out, and her conscious began to dim.
As Maven lay powerlessly on the ground, her ability to perceive her surroundings faded away and all she could feel was cold… creeping up her limbs as she drowned in terror.
I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die!
Time passed, measured by the beating of Maven's heart as it steadily pumped out more and more of her life force, until it unceremoniously stopped pumping altogether and Maven's consciousness faded to black.