For over an hour, the investigating witch had tried to convince the girl in the chair opposite her to talk. One would not be wrong for thinknig she was being tortured rather than questioned considering the large heavy stone chair to which she was strapped, lest she decide to use her magic and attempt to break free. The sight was almost comical considering her thin proportions, with her back not even properly reaching that of the chair's. A rather unsual series of events had led to the woman being tasked with this assignment, despite her status as a high-ranking witch. Firstly, the mind manipulation magic they had imposed on the subject was completely ineffective as there were simply no thoughts in her head, something which took a lifetype of focus and dedication to master, while any attempt to dredge up memories or dive into the subconcious were repelled, a classic indicator of her possessing mind magic. However, the subject had been reported using multiple different magics in the past, from elemental to force, something nobody could beileve as witches were only suppose to hold domain over one area.

Looking at the girl before her, who was staring forward with listless eyes and a dulled expression, the interrograter was actually at a loss. Everbody hoped, even expected, that after capturing the phantom they would be able to unravel the mystery behind her existence, but the other witches had failed to uncover anything. A single account of her unrestrained in the field was more informative than every experiment conducted since her capture. The interrogater's name was Canen Linn, and she had served as a witch in the Bureau for over 30 years before being assigned 6 years ago to this case, and she was almost 60 but her witch blood made her appear and act like spritely 30-year-old. Her dark brown, bordering on black, hair tied neatly in her bun, while her hands lay folded in her lap.

On the other side of the table, Subject 1, as she was named on account of there being no other subjects which withstood the Bureau's investigations, was 5' 3" with slightly wavy grey-brown to chestnut hair coming down to just below her shoulders and an unblemished face, despite the numerous accidents on report. In fact, her MRI scan reports were consistant with that of 18 to 19-year-old girl who never had a single fracture. On the other hand, the media report in front of the interrogater showed a grainy image of a girl, clearly identifiable as Subject 1, clearly being hit in the face by a truck while different eye-witness account stated at one point while escaping a capture attempt, her leg was badly twisted with bone protuding out just below the knee. Only a highly proficient healing witch could endure these mutilating injuries, and not only survive, but erase all physical evidence from her body. However, deep lacerations trailed down her left side stopping just below the thigh, along with a series of bruises on the top of her right shoulder, both of which could have been healed much easier than her broken bones. 

When magically scanning her, unidentifiable latent magic would be detected, a common result for young witches who had not yet tapped into their powers, but unheard of for an active witch who could access her magic. The most informative discovery that had been made was when a witch was examining her eyes, noticing she was wearing contacts, not a prescription kind but brandless colored contacts, with exception of being obviously designed with continual use in mind. Beneath the flat brown contacts was a shimmery silver-colored iris with dark grey flecks. The girl never spoke or gave any indication of communication, eating and drinking when prompted but otherwise standing, sitting, or lying down in her cell without moving, sleeping in short bursts throughout the night and sometimes during the day. However, even when asleep Subject 1's eyes never closed except an occasional wink, another anomaly written onto her record.

Reviewing all this in her mind the witch tried to find some way to discovery something useful before the memory squad arrived soon. With the academy school year coming up, the Bureau of Witch Affairs had decided to cull the project, and if the squad failed she was under orders to execute Subject 1 throughly and compeletly before incinerating her. The thought made the witch frown, she had grown attached to the girl over the long hours the interrogater had spent with her and did not wish to see her die. At first, her fascination was purely clinical, but now, the woman had started to understand whatever the girl had experienced, mentally and physically, to obtain such anamolous powers, was not something she could unravel in her lifetime.

As time went by the line between maintaining the girl's body and unnecessary comfort blurred. It became the witches routine to buy bread on the way to the sole dungeon in all of Viocinitus. Despite the lack of light in the cell, the witch made a point to move a small cheap bamboo cot into the corner, as well as to regularly clean the cell, at which point the girl would be moved to the adjacent (unoccupied) cell.

Subject 1 wasn't just waiting to escape or in order to avoid questioning, she was finished with her life, and the witch hazarded that the girl's burden was heavy with regrets, yet they were destined to remain hidden. Maybe, a fresh start would not be such a bad thing for her. The woman had long since given up her last ditch attempt to convince the girl to talk, now sitting in silence as the clock ticked in the background, approaching midday. "The memory squad is due to arrive in 10 minutes." Only silence greeted her, the girl, as she always did, never gave the slightest indication the witch had ever spoken. 

Anyone observing the exchange would be hard-pressed to identify the real prisoner, as although the girl was clearly the one restrained, the woman was fidgeting and rocking like a mother about to lose a child. The impassionate distant eyes of the girl never even blinked over the whole exchange, and the witch could not help but wonder what secrets were present behind those emotionless eyes. The clock contuined to creep closer to noon, when the three hands would align. A little over four minute before the hourly chimes, a resounding series of knocks was heard, the first and last time a service team had and would arrive early. The witch sighed, frustrated but no quite understanding why, as after all, wasn't silence what she expected? She approached the door leading out of the interrogation room, as to find the witches which had arrived and guide them into and through the building. However, as she put her hand on the door knob she felt something and looked back. 

The stone chair restraining Subject 1 was completely broken, the metal clasps forcefully pried open despite the girl's hands being securly locked against the stone. At this moment, the witch realized that no matter how many layers of security the Bureau placed upon the girl, she could break out at any time if she felt so inclined. There had been no sound or indication Subject 1 had broken her restraints, nor had the witch detected any trace of magic being used. The only reason why the girl so far had be contained was that she never had the will to leave. Reality tugged at her shoulder and the witch turned to face Subject 1. Something had changed in the silver eyes, which were no longer lifeless but rather seemed to glow with a slight fire, focused and gazing upon the witch's face, even though her facial features remained as impassive as before. This was the first time she had ever taken voluntary action to do anything besides what was strictly necessary to survive and tend to bodily functions. However, the girl could not have picked a worse time, the woman hesitated between staying and fetching the memory squad, but then Subject 1 gave another small tug on her shoulder. The memory squad could wait a few minutes.

The witch sat down at her chair, her chin resting on her folded palms propped up by her elbows, attentive, while the girl took her seat carefully on the other side of the table. The youth's hand rested on the table as if requesting an item, but what the witch did nto know. She knitted her brows in confusion greatly aware that any minute the memory squad could open the door and cut short this opportunity to finally understand Subject 1, if only slightly. The girl fixed her gaze on the woman's left sleeve, before gently tapping her watch through the fabric of the shirt. Realizing now what the girl wanted, the witch quickly unfastened her sleeve and subsequently placed the item of demand in the girl's pale hand. Two minutes remained before midday, and the witch could hear the memory squad advancing through the house, slowly but steadily approaching the interrogation room. The woman wondered why the girl could have wanted the watch, as it was obviously was not to check the time, as the large clock on the wall suceeded in conveying that quite clearly. 

Her question was answered promptly, as the girl deftly slipped her nail around the metal backing and opened the watch to reveal the inner workings. The woman did not expect Subject 1 to return it and was fully prepared to lose it the moment she placed the timekeeper in the girl's hand; however, she had hoped that the girl would not contuine to spend her last moments of life pointlessly deconstructing a generic steel watch, albeit much faster than the even the most skilled clockwork mechanic she had seen. Seconds ticked by, and it became clear the girl was not simply deconstructing the watch, but making it into something els, heating and bending metal into new shapes while reconstructing entirely new mechansims. As the girl placed the new watch back in front of the woman, the witch noticed a few things regarding its face. Firstly, the second had remained and was now thirty seconds from midday, as was the clock, but was no longer ticking, or at least not noticably. Meanwhile the other hands were reconstructing into multiple stars, the fastest rotating at an almost unnoticable speed. The background had been completely removed, displaying the gears underneath, while the date component was repurposed into creating the stars. However, the witch's time ran out before she could determine if the watch was merely a decorative contraption or had some purpose, as the memory team opened the door.

The lead witch in the memory squad was quite taken aback by the sight she saw, the supposedly unresponsive Subject 1 sitting down in her chair while Miss Linn examined her watch, or what had become of it. "Ahem! I am here to preform memory erasure on a DANGEROUS and UNCOOPERATIVE witch." Miss Linn looked up, "Ah, Miss Amantra, you're finally here. Grab a seat." At this point the brown-haired witch was throughly displeased, and scowling started to sort through her bags and prepare the necessary concotion to prepare Subject 1's body and ensure the permeancy of the procedure. When Miss Linn glanced towards Subject 1, her face had returned to the impassive unfocused state the witch was so accustomed to seeing.

Despite the restraints being broken, Subject 1 complyed as prompted and never resisted, much to Miss Amantra suprise and suspicion. Just as the witch finished her preperations, Subject 1 spoke for the first time, her face unreadable and eyes gazing into the distance: "Not all witches are bad, but I wonder if I will discover this before I break?" Despite the rasps from never using her throat, it was apparent it was once meledious and smooth, in fact even now after six years of confirmed silence, it was surprisingly understandable. Barely a whisper exited her slightly parted lips, but it carried an air of detachment yet curiosity. A slight laughter escaped towards the end as if whether or not she would "break" was a trivial and amusing matter. Everybody hesitated a moment, not expecting this new development but Miss Amantra silent began her work.

The memory witch carefully tilted the youth's head back and poured the first clear liquid down her throat. She knew from experience with other clients the draught was quite caustic, but Subject 1 did not respond. The liquid was created for the expressed purpose of helping prepare an unwilling or unraveling mind for tampering, but Miss Amantra could only hope that her mind was as receptive and passive as her body. However, once she pushed her hand down onto the girl's forehead, the witch understood the problem would be a matter of navigating and putting back together the girl's mind in functioning order. Miss Amantra slowly closed her eyes while Subject 1 stared forward, unaware that part of Miss Amantra's concious had focused itself inside the girl's mind.

If each mind was a sea of strings and threads, what Miss Amantra percieved could only be described as scattered threads, once forming a rich tapestry, but now hanging limp, broken, and frayed off the few remaining unbroken ones. It was amazing that the girl was even functioning or able to perform magic. However, there was a pattern to the madness, with the threads once forming a highly efficent system without conflictions or interference. However, something had obviously destroyed this design, driving the girl practically insane, and evidently anyone with a less robust mind would have completely dissolved. In fact, looking closely she noticed many of the hanging ends were split with plies still unbroken, but even as she watched these frayed and one by one were stretching and strand by strand tearing apart. Even the brief actions she had performed today had taxed her mind too far, and it was irreversably shattering.

Many sections - which had previously remained strong in subnetworks allowing for langauge, magic, and movement among others - were now splintering away from the core of Subject 1's mind floating in space slowly peeling back the newest additions to these subworks to reform older and more robust shapes, but losing most of the threads in the process. At this moment, Miss Amantra ceased her observations and intervened, using her magic like both glue and scissors to piece together the decomposing mind and make it anew. As the witch pulled the pieces together she made sure to rewire certain connections such as that of movement, so the girl would have to relearn how to fight. The consequence was an unintentional increase in the population of clumsy individuals, yet as long as the youth no longer posed a threat, the government did not care what modifications Miss Amantra placed upon her.

Curious as she reconstructed, the witch tried to peer into the memories present, but the metaphorical looking glasses of thread that stored them were far too damage to view or understand except the occasional moving figure or light. Sighing, she discarded them as she had been instructed and spun a new thread to hold the memories that the girl would experience and gain over time afterwards. A simple nub was sufficent, but would grow in time, while on the other side of the brain, the witch throughly chopped all traces of magical abilty without leaving so much as a hint to her former methods. Any magic the girl created would now have to be completely rediscovered and learned. What the witch did not notice was the cataclysmic changes cutting the remaining threads in this region had on others ,similar to how one push of pool ball may change the positions of many others in the process of bouncing towards a chute. However, the witch had with this completed her reconstruction and focused her conciousness back within herself.

As the memory witch's eyes snapped back opened and retracted her hand from the girl's forehead, Subject 1's eyes flickered close and the girl fell into a deep dreamless state, which would last several hours, at the end of which she would awaken having no knowledge of how preform magic or any experiences in her life, not even her last words. Miss Linn gazed at her ungaurded form noting this was the first time she had seen Subject 1 with her eyes closed, and she for once looked. . . peaceful, at ease even. As Amantra hauled her out the seat and into the back of one of the Bureau's minivans, the girl's eyelids fluttered and if anybody was watching they would notice her irises were now an ordinary brown, identical to that of the contacts. Meanwhile, Miss Linn turned over the watch and noticed a small series of sharp irregular marks on the metal, peering closer she read in an almost archaic font, "At Midday, I need you." The second's hand was still stuck 30 seconds from noon. . . for now at least. 

First Edit Applied on 06/15/2024