《Imperfect power》chapter 2

Christine POV:

"I'll make you feel the pain you gave me, a thousand times over. You'll wish you never crossed my path, and your world will crumble as mine did."

. . .

That's what i'm saying, but no one's actually gonna come in for a while.

I've killed the bad guys, which made me the bad guy. It all began when I was just a wide-eyed 15-year-old, my life cocooned within the tranquility of our village. In those days, I believed that the world beyond our borders held no allure for me. Our village was a small safe place, comprised of no more than 36 humble cottages, interwoven with the functional threads of a windmill's arms and the tall walls of barns. Its heart beat within the timeworn walls of the village tavern.

In the wise whispers of my parents, I often heard the cautionary refrain: "Stay away from that place, dear. It's no haunt for a girl like you." But curiosity had long woven its tendrils into my spirit, and I had devised my secret pathway, a hidden portal into the clandestine world of the tavern. It was a quiet gap within the tavern's roof, inconspicuous and discreet, revealed only to those who dared to climb atop a stack of long-forgotten, rotting barrels behind the establishment. My slender frame was my ally as I slipped through the chink, an entrance into my personal spot in tavern.

Upon the attic's wooden floor, I settled upon a sturdy beam beneath the eaves, shrouded in shadows cast by the rafters above. From my perch, I became a silent spectator to the ebb and flow of life beyond the rafters. Candlelight embraced the room below, casting a flickering glow upon the stage where dancers spun their tales in a choreography of light and shadow.

Yet, my gaze was not fixed upon the dancers or the revelers that laughed and caroused. No, my attention was drawn to a figure whose exterior belied his true essence, a man whose brawny exterior masked his gentle soul. Our village's towering, muscular shoemaker, a dangerous visage concealing the artistry of his craft.

To the left, the wooden counter stood as a sentinel of tales, presided over by old Mr. Agostino. His beard flowed like cascading snow, a testament to the wisdom and jokes he had gathered through years uncounted. In a moment of shared knowing, our eyes met, his ageless gaze acknowledging my hidden vantage, a silent pact sealed with a fleeting smile.

Beside him, a scene unfolded a contest of spirits waged by Mr. Ricciardi, each ale soaked gulp a step closer to a victorious defeat. His countenance reddened with the flush of inebriation, his ninth empty mug a prove to his resilience. As I looked on, bemused, I found myself lost in contemplation. How did one man contain such a wellspring of merriment within his being, and where did it all vanish to?

As Vittorio Mancini, our Sindaco entered the pub, the air seemed to shift around him. Heads turned, conversations hushed, and all eyes were drawn to the man who had just walked in. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, casting a shadow that seemed to command the room's attention.

With each step, the wooden floorboards seemed to creak in reluctant submission beneath his weight. He moved with a deliberate confidence, his gait unhurried yet purposeful. The dim light caught the hints of silver in his hair, framing a face that bore the stories of time etched into its weathered lines.

His eyes, a piercing shade of gray, swept across the room, taking in every detail with a keen observation. They held a depth that hinted at experiences far beyond the confines of this small pub, a gaze that seemed to see more than what was merely visible.

Dressed in a well-fitted suit, he stood out amidst the casual patrons, an anomaly that demanded attention. His presence carried an air of authority, and even in this humble setting, he exuded an aura of mystery that left you wondering about the secrets he might hold.

Mister Mancini strolled up to Mr. Agostino, and they began chatting in hushed tones. I couldn't catch a word from my vantage point, but it was clear that this was no friendly exchange. Mr. Agostino's face shifted from its usual composed demeanor to a more serious expression. Whatever they were discussing, it had ruffled his feathers.

Their a tu per tu didn't drag on for too long. Our Sindaco, the big boss, decided it was time to call it quits and headed out. As he left, the atmosphere around Mr. Agostino seemed to change. He no longer exuded the same air of confidence and authority. Instead, he appeared deep in thought, burdened by something weighty.

I had an inkling to head downstairs and have a chat with him. But, alas, the day was drawing to a close, and I had to heed the call of the setting sun. My playtime was over, and it was time to return to the comforts of home.

With a wistful glance at the unfolding drama below, I turned away and made my way back home, taking with me the unanswered questions and enigma that surrounded Mr. Agostino's sudden transformation. It was a scene worth pondering as the twilight settled in.

When I finally returned home, my parents greeted me with their familiar expressions of concern.

"Where have you been, Christine? We've been searching everywhere for you,"

they inquired, their worry lines etched deeper than usual.

I couldn't bear to see them fret over me, so I offered a simple explanation, even though it was far from the truth.

"I was just playing behind the windmill all day,"

I replied with an innocent smile. I didn't want them to worry about their adventurous daughter, who often ventured where she wasn't supposed to. My parents meant the world to me, and their peace of mind was more important than my little adventures.

After a delicious dinner prepared by my mom, I retreated to my cozy bed. There, I nestled with my most treasured companion, a plush polar bear teddy bear that my daddy had given me when I was just a little girl. Some might say I was too old to cuddle with a stuffed animal, but why should I care? In our serene village, where danger was a stranger, there were no worries pressing down on my shoulders.

As I held my cherished teddy close, I drifted into a peaceful slumber, wrapped in the warmth of love and security, with the knowledge that tomorrow would bring more opportunities for exploration and adventure, all while being enveloped in the comforting cocoon of my loving family.

The following morning, I met up with my younger friend, Gianna. Despite our age difference, we were inseparable. I stood at 5'3, while Gianna was a bit shorter at 4'9, but her vibrant personality more than made up for the difference. Her arm-length brown hair flowed beautifully, and her emerald eyes sparkled with curiosity and energy. But what made her truly special was a secret we shared - she had powers.

Gianna possessed a unique ability: she could conjure a radiant light orb that resembled a floating lightbulb. It was a harmless, mesmerizing creation that lit up our world like magic. We kept her powers hidden from everyone in the village. People in our little community had some strange reactions when it came to talk of superpowers, reactions that left us both feeling uneasy. Even my parents were cautious about anything related to gifted individuals. It was as if the world outside our village was a place of fear and uncertainty.

Together, Gianna and I ventured to a picturesque water stream, our favorite play spot. As she dipped her hand into the crystal-clear water, a soft, radiant glow emerged. The shimmering light danced on the surface, casting enchanting ripples that played tricks with the sunlight. It was our secret world of wonder, a reminder that there was more to our existence than met the eye, and that sometimes, the most extraordinary things could be hidden just beneath the surface.

"Hey Christie, if you had powers, what would you like them to be?" Gianna's question caught me off guard. We were sitting by the stream, the gentle gurgle of the water providing the backdrop to our thoughts.

I hesitated for a moment, then replied, "I think I'd be happy with anything that could help my parents. My mom loves beautiful weather, so maybe if I could... Nevermind." I cut myself off, realizing that such dreams were beyond my reach. I was just a powerless girl, physically weak, and dependent on others.

"That's so nice of you," Gianna said, her eyes sparkling with appreciation. "When I grow older, I'm going to move to a different city, next to the ocean."

"The ocean? Why there?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"I want to be a lighthouse keeper," she confided. "I know it sounds weird, but that's what I want."

Her dream was so beautiful, but it made me wonder if she could actually leave our village. In all my years here, I had never seen anyone move in or out. It was as if our little community existed in a world all its own, protected from the outside. But was it really that safe?

Suddenly, a tall shadow loomed behind us, casting a chill over our conversation. It was Miss Maria, the guardian who had taken care of Gianna since her parents had passed away.

"Gianna, we must go, now!" Her tone was as stern and unsettling as ever.

"Bye, Christie! See you tomorrow!" Gianna called out as she hurried away with Miss Maria, leaving me with a wide smile.

But tomorrow came, and Gianna didn't. It was a day that would mark the beginning of a mystery that would cast a long shadow over our peaceful village.

Confusion and fear gnawed at me as I raced to Miss Maria's house, my heart pounding in my chest. I had to find out what had happened to Gianna. But when I confronted her, her response was like a dagger through my heart.

"Who's Gianna? I don't remember anyone like that; you must be going crazy, kid. Get out of here!" Her words were cold and dismissive, and my eyes welled up with tears as I retreated.

Desperation drove me to seek solace and help from my parents, but when I turned to them, their response was equally baffling. "Sweetie, who is Gianna? Is that what you call your teddy bear?" It was as if Gianna had been erased from their memories.

Unable to contain my anguish, I fled the house and found refuge behind the old barn, the tears streaming down my face. My mind raced with tormenting thoughts. Was I losing my sanity? Had Gianna ever existed?

As I crouched there, lost in my despair, I heard footsteps approaching. I quickly hid and peeked out from my hiding place. The sight before me was unusual, and it sent a shiver down my spine. It was late, much too late for anyone to be out, yet these people were entering the barn, their expressions secretive.

Curiosity and a gnawing sense of unease overcame my fear. I crept closer, my steps silent as I moved toward the barn. There, I saw them descending a set of stairs hidden beneath a trapdoor. Something about this situation felt wrong, but I couldn't ignore it.

Taking a deep breath and mustering my courage, I decided to follow them down those stairs. I needed to uncover the truth about Gianna, even if it meant venturing into the unknown depths below the barn.

My heart pounded in my chest as I cautiously descended the stairs, doing my best to remain unnoticed by the robed figures gathered in the room below. What I saw sent a chill down my spine. There, in the dimly lit chamber, stood an eerie altar, upon which lay Gianna, motionless. A large chest covered by a white sheet loomed nearby, and I knew I had to get behind it to see better.

Among the gathered figures, I recognized some familiar faces: Miss Maria, Mister Mancini, and Mister Agostino. But the most heartbreaking sight was my parents, standing there, involved in whatever was happening to Gianna.

"Where's the other girl?" Mister Mancini inquired.

"She won't be necessary, only Maria's brat is cursed," came a response from an unidentified voice. Cursed? The word hung heavy in the air, leaving me with a sinking feeling. What did it mean?

"We're sure she has no powers," my mother's voice trembled as she spoke.

"Doesn't matter. If this one fooled us, so can the other," Mister Mancini's words sent a shiver down my spine. It was becoming clear that they had sinister intentions. Were they going to harm us? My thoughts raced, but I held onto the belief that my daddy would protect me.

"Please, Christine has nothing to do with this," my father's voice carried a plea, confirming my hopes of safety. But as their discussion continued, my fear for Gianna grew.

"She will grow suspicious, and we can't always play dumb in front of her. Better get rid of her right now,"

The voices outside grew frantic, and my heart clenched as I overheard someone inquire about my return. My parents' voices trembled as they mentioned my absence.

"Then she might be sniffing around right now! Go get her!" someone commanded, and the room emptied, leaving me alone with Gianna.

I emerged from my hiding place, my heart heavy with fear and sorrow, and approached Gianna. But what I saw when I looked at her shattered my world. Tears cascaded down my cheeks uncontrollably, as if a dam had burst within me.

I was overwhelmed by the horrifying sight before me. Gianna's lifeless body lay upon the altar, her shirt torn, and a dagger cruelly plunged into her chest. Her once vibrant lips, now pale, would never curve into a smile for me again. The dream she had shared with me, of becoming a lighthouse keeper, lay shattered and unfulfilled.

I fell to my knees, tears blurring my vision, and the gut-wrenching grief and disbelief clawed at my heart. Gianna, my dear friend, was gone, taken from this world in the most cruel and senseless manner imaginable. My world had crumbled, and as I looked upon her, I vowed to uncover the truth behind this nightmarish mystery and to ensure that justice would be served for Gianna's stolen dreams and stolen life.

Panic surged through me as I raced back to my house, every step feeling like a desperate attempt to evade the village that had seemingly turned against me. It was as if the entire community had joined the hunt for the girl who had stumbled upon their dark secret.

Breathless and terrified, I arrived at the stairs leading to our front door, only to be confronted by an unexpected obstacle: Mr. Agostino was already inside our home.

"Come here, Christine," he beckoned, his voice laden with a sense of authority and menace. My instincts screamed that this was a trap, a threat I couldn't afford to face. I had to find my parents and get them to safety.

In a split-second decision, I made a daring move. As Mr. Agostino bent down to reach for me, I slipped between his legs, narrowly escaping his grasp. He lost his balance and tumbled forward, crashing heavily onto the ground. I couldn't afford to pause, my heart pounding with fear and determination.

I rushed into my house, ignoring the turmoil in my mind over what I may have done to Mr. Agostino. Tears of ignorance and terror filled my eyes as I began packing my belongings. There was no time for regret or hesitation.

Terror gripped me as I clutched my backpack filled with the essentials and my precious polar bear plushie, ready to embark on my desperate quest to find my parents. But before I could make any headway, my path was suddenly blocked by Mr. Mancini, his imposing figure casting a daunting shadow over me.

"You! Brat, you will come with me!" His voice was harsh and commanding, and his vice-like grip on my wrist made my heart race. Helpless, I was dragged back towards the underground depths of the barn, where the sinister gathering had taken place.

"People of powers are a curse to this world and shall be purged," his threatening words reverberated in the dimly lit chamber, filling me with dread. I tried to plead with him, my voice trembling, "Please, let me go, I don't have powers, I swear." Tears blurred my vision as my fear intensified.

But then, a sudden interruption—my father's voice. "What are you doing, Vittorio!?" My parents had appeared, and my daddy was standing up to Mr. Mancini, challenging his menacing presence.

"Mommy! Daddy!" I cried out, my voice a desperate plea for help from the two people I loved most in this world. In that terrifying moment, I could only hope that my parents would come to my rescue, that their love and determination would be enough to protect me from the impending threat that loomed darkly around us.

The nightmare before me unfolded with horrifying speed. My dad's brave rush toward Mr. Mancini ended in tragedy as the Sindaco swung a dagger at him. Time seemed to slow as my father's face contorted with pain, his throat gruesomely sliced open, blood gushing forth in a torrent.

My mother's scream pierced the air as she watched her husband fall. Panic gripped her, and with desperate strength, she pushed me away, trying to shield me from the horror unfolding before our eyes.

As I stumbled backward, I could only watch in helpless horror as Mr. Mancini closed in on my mother. Her eyes met mine for an agonizing moment, a silent plea filled with love and despair. And then, in an instant, his blade slashed through her throat as well.

Time resumed its normal pace, but my world had shattered. My mother's lifeblood splashed onto my face and clothes, a gruesome reminder of the brutal reality unfolding before me. I screamed in terror, a primal, gut-wrenching cry that echoed through the underground chamber. It felt as though I had been thrust into a waking nightmare, unable to comprehend the sheer horror of the scene playing out before my eyes.

As my world crumbled around me, the shock and grief gave way to an unexpected surge of anger and determination. I couldn't just sit there and accept the horrors that had befallen my parents. Mr. Mancini approached me with cruel words, his actions void of remorse.

But something changed within me. A frigid chill descended upon the room, and I felt my body grow lighter. I couldn't explain it, but an inexplicable power surged within me. With newfound resolve, I launched myself at Mr. Mancini, my delicate fists landing ineffectual punches against his imposing figure.

However, the atmosphere in the room turned ice-cold, and the ground beneath us quaked and cracked. Fear etched across his face, he tried to dismiss my efforts. "Stop it, brat. It's of no use. You can do nothing—"

But before he could finish his sentence, a powerful burst of chilling air erupted from beneath my feet, propelling him backward. As I advanced, the walls around us frosted over, and the ground crumbled and quaked beneath my feet.

"You witch! What are you?!" Mr. Mancini cried out in terror.

I seized his hand, the one holding the dagger, and it froze solid. A feeling of raw power surged through me as I ripped the weapon from his grasp, causing him to scream in agony. Tears welled in his eyes as he staggered to his feet and fled towards the exit, his voice echoing with a mixture of fear and pain.

As I made my way out of the barn, I was met with a chilling scene. A crowd of villagers had gathered around, their faces contorted with shock and terror. Mr. Mancini, fleeing from the barn, barely managed to escape before the structure erupted into a powerful explosion, sending flames shooting into the sky.

The fire raged fiercely, devouring the barn and reducing it to ashes. But from those ashes emerged a thick, eerie fog, and I emerged from within it. The cold breeze that accompanied me seemed to freeze the grass and leaves on the surrounding trees, creating an otherworldly spectacle.

My gaze was cold and unyielding, igniting fear in the hearts of the villagers who had gathered to witness the chaos. With each step I took, the ground beneath me seemed to smolder, while the surroundings turned frigid. The sky above grew darker by the second, and the air filled with the ominous rumble of a gathering storm.

Then, without warning, the heavens unleashed their fury. Hailstones descended from the sky, accompanied by deafening thunder and blinding lightning strikes. The elements themselves seemed to respond to the turmoil, echoing the chaos and power that now coursed through me.

The sheer power I now possessed was overwhelming. With a single glance, I could freeze their legs, rendering them immobile and helpless. Their cries of agony echoed through the air, a perverse symphony that sang in my ears.

Raising my hand, I unleashed a wave of scorching heat that consumed their bodies in an instant, reducing them to smoldering embers. The once fearful villagers now lay in ashen ruin at my feet, their pain and terror silenced forever.

Except for Mr. Mancini.

I spared him, for the moment. His legless and armless body lay beneath me as I stood atop his once imposing frame. His voice, now cracked and feeble, cursed me with venomous words. "You monster! You will burn in hell!" he screamed, his tears freezing on his cheeks as his skin rotted from the cold.

I leaned closer, my fingers finding their way into his mouth. With a cruel smile, I sent a burst of fire deep into his insides. His screams reached a fevered pitch, a chilling chorus of agony.

"I am the hell," I whispered, watching with an unsettling calmness as he continued to burn alive, his suffering intensifying with every passing moment. The balance of power had shifted, and in this moment, I was the embodiment of both destruction and retribution.

My laughter grew increasingly manic as I reveled in my newfound power.

"Now then"

The once-freezing air transformed into a scorching inferno, and I summoned a hurricane of blazing fury from within me. With malevolent glee, I directed the searing tempest to consume the remaining survivors in the village.

"You all burned down my life, so I will burn down your bodies!" I proclaimed with a sinister delight, my eyes gleaming with madness. The screams of those deemed guilty of my suffering brought a perverse pleasure, and I spun around as lightning bolts crashed into houses, reducing them to smoldering ruins.

At my will, the world itself seemed to bend to my whims, causing calamities of unimaginable scale. My eyes widened with the sheer scope of my power as I once again invoked the frigid cold. The ground cracked beneath me, and I soared upward on the winds of a hurricane, the very embodiment of chaos and destruction.

"They shall be slaughtered, right, Gianna?" I cried out, my voice filled with madness and despair. With a final raise of my hand, a colossal wave of cold and snow burst forth, freezing everything in its path. It spread far beyond the village, reaching the distant forests and plains, leaving an icy wasteland in its wake.

I descended to the frozen earth, landing on my bare feet, tears streaming from my eyes even as I continued to laugh uncontrollably. In this moment of devastation, I had become both the harbinger of vengeance and the embodiment of a nightmare, leaving nothing but desolation in my wake.

Five long years had passed since the day I unleashed my vengeful wrath, creating a frozen citadel of ice that none could penetrate. My power had grown beyond comprehension, and I had maintained an iron grip on my newfound realm of solitude. No one could disrupt my peace; anyone who dared stand against me met a swift and merciless end.

Or so I had thought.

One day, a tall, unarmed man, with an air of confidence and a disarming smile, approached the ice citadel. He was dressed in a dark coat, his silvery eyes reminiscent of my own, and his white hair stirred memories of my father, who had passed on that same trait to me.

"Christine, right?" he addressed me by name, leaving me bewildered. How did he know my name?

"I came to... well, I'm supposed to pacify you if possible. Which is not impossible for me," he continued calmly, as if challenging my very existence.

Fury surged within me, and I raised my hand to unleash my fiery powers upon him. But to my horror, nothing happened. Panic welled up as I realized I had lost control of my abilities.

"What did you do?!" I screamed in a frenzy, refusing to accept defeat.

"Calm down, there's no escape now," he responded, his tone casual and unnerving. He began to approach me, and to my horror, I found myself immobilized, unable to move, as if my very essence had been ensnared.

Desperation gnawed at me, and I struggled against the invisible chains that bound me. But in that moment, I understood that my reign of power and destruction had come to a sudden and terrifying end, leaving me vulnerable before an enigmatic stranger who seemed to hold the key to my fate.

"You will come with me," the man repeated with a calm authority.

My heart sank, and a sense of resignation washed over me. "Is this how it ends?" I whispered, tears gently flowing from my eyes as the brilliant fire of my powers faded into nothingness.

"Most likely, yes," he replied, his words delivering a finality that drained what little spirit I had left. As he released his hold on me, I regained control of my body, but my legs felt weak, and I crumpled to the ground.

My world spun, and I could hear him speaking, but his words became distant echoes as my consciousness began to slip away. I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, where there was only darkness for my very soul, and the weight of my actions weighed heavily on my heart.