A lining of sweat had formed in the tip-less, black leather gloves tightly wrapped around her hands. Black lace with alternating shapes of diamonds and flames trimmed the glove edges. They were a gift from her mother on her 16th birthday after her ‘accident’ at school a few weeks before; no one was hurt but her mother was furious, not at her, but at the amount of repair costs totaled at the bottom of the letter, she had partially blamed herself for it. Shaerin was only 13 when her father had been banished from his post on earth and sent to the shadow realm, for a crime he didn’t even commit. It was her father’s bloodline of elemental mages that she inherited and he was the only one who could show her how to wield her powers; her mother was an Ordinary, the only knowledge she had was that from the pages she had read which, compared to physical training, barely skimmed the surface.

The afternoon sun blazed. After a long day working at the school followed by the brutal calf-burning walk up the hill to her apartment building, her heart rate increased, her left hand stung and her right hand warmed. She worked at the same school which she attended high school, she felt as if she owed them for the damage she had caused back then, even though it’s the school who should owe her. Relief rushed over her as the warmed glove turned the doorknob, she could finally take the damned things off her hands, along with her sweat-drenched, day old clothes. The gloves served a purpose, she was grateful for them but she’d be more grateful for just one day without having to wear them.

The metal faucet of the bath tub was cold to the touch of her sensitive skin as she opened it, regular temperature poured out. This was the time of the day she looked forward to the most, where she could sit in the water with her hands submerged and let the relief set in. On the palm of each hand was a large circular area of tender pain; her left had a swarm of blueish-purple scars in the form of sharp little lines; her right had an ocean of red and pale skin-pink swirls.

When her eyelids closed the darkness enveloped her, it was like memory foam that remembered the emotions and feelings, both those of touch and power, coursing through her veins. Icy, electric shivers trickled down her left arm, fiery bold vibrations flowed through her right. Images of the attack flashed. The power surged down to her hands. Darkness. Hundreds of screaming teenagers on the school field ran behind and away from her, away from _them_. Hands grew colder and hotter. Darkness. They crept closer. Fingers ice-blue; red like hot coal. Darkness. They charged for her with demonic-pitched screeches. Coalescence of ice and fire. Darkness. Destruction.