WHO: Sabrina WHEN: Friday night, witching hour WHERE: woods outside the mortuary and then elsewhere WHAT: Hell comes calling RATINGS/WARNINGS: teenage angst, thoughts of never wanting to be born
The woods had always been soothing. The moonlight shining down on her helped to calm the images that never quite went away even when she was awake. They lessened for a bit when she was busy, more easily compartmentalized and buried deep until night crept in around her, bringing with it too much silence and allowing her mind to drift where she wished it wouldn’t. Reminding herself that everyone was alive, that she’d fixed the past, that the horrors of home couldn’t get to those that were there with her did little to help calm her fears.
Deep down she knew Ambrose was right in his assessment that what she’d done to fix things would come back to bite them all, causing even greater problems than what they had already endured. She couldn’t fix any of that from Vallo though. It just sat there like a weight that she couldn’t shake, couldn’t lessen, constantly carrying around with her through everything.
She hoped talking with the therapist would help, but Sabrina was doubtful. How could anyone understand any of it when she didn’t understand everything she’d been through most of the time? When she was certain that cause for all of the issues could have been solved if she had simply never been created? Edward and Diana Spellman would have never been killed on a plane. Harvey’s brother would still be alive. Nick would never have sacrificed himself to save her. So much pain would have never been doled out on any of the people she loved. There wasn’t enough good she could do out in any world to make up for all of the darkness that her mere existence seemed to create.
Salem butted at her thigh, clearly not approving of her inner thoughts. Sabrina absently brushed his fur, knowing he meant well, but he’d been dead in that future too. Because of the choices she’d made, her inner darkness unable to walk away from the role she was supposed to play. He yowled, further indicating he disagreed, but Sabrina fell into the grass, continuing to ignore him.
She bolted upright at the rush of power that snapped through her, a sense of dread filling her simultaneously as she recognized the pull that seemed to wrap its way around her, demanding attention. Sabrina closed her eyes, pressing her hands to her ears, willing the familiar feeling to go away, to lessen its hold on her.
Salem’s back hunched up as he hissed into the wind, sensing the same thing. It wouldn’t go away and Sabrina carefully picked up her familiar before teleporting the two of them toward where the feeling seemed to be located. She nearly dropped the cat when they appeared in front of the palace.
She’d only seen it once before from the outside, all of her further dealings happening inside of it, but she’d have recognized its blackened exterior anywhere. “Why couldn’t it bring Cerberus Books?” she muttered, holding her familiar close as the gateway opened up for her, allowing her inside of the building.
The inside was as ridiculous as she remembered, too many oranges and reds mimicking the heat that usually pervaded the space, dragon motifs scattered around it. The throne wasn’t there, still stuck in the dollhouse back at the mortuary, and Sabrina walked past the throne room.
Salem jumped out of her arms to trail along the floor beside her as they headed past the expansive library and back toward where the bedrooms were located. She found hers easily enough, glaring at the interior.
At least the other occupants didn’t seem to have made the journey with the building.
She was going to need to put up some wards so people didn’t accidentally stumble across the place. Should probably contact Lucifer as well to let him know what she’d found. Though maybe he’d felt its arrival.