Latin came from him. My eyes were fixed upon the card in his moving fingers, heart pounding as I waited, helpless. He gestured, and my card burst into flame.

It flashed like gunpowder. I cried out and turned away, hands over my eyes. The shrieks of the minor demons beat upon me. I reeled backward, balance gone. Red smears coated my vision. My eyes were open and tears streamed down my face, but I couldn’t see. I couldn’t see!

There was the sound of sliding rocks, and I yelped as someone cuffed me. I blindly lashed out, almost falling as the heel of my hand met nothing. Fear settled into me, debilitating. I couldn’t see. He had taken my sight!

A hand shoved me over, and I fell, swinging my leg. I felt it hit him, and he went down. “Bitch,” he gasped, and I shrieked when he yanked out a handful of my hair and scrabbled away.

“More!” Al said cheerfully. “Show me your best!” he encouraged.

“Lee!” I cried. “Don’t do this!” The red wasn’t clearing. Please, please let it be illusion.

Dark words came from Lee, sounding obscene. I smelled a strand of my hair burn.

My heart clenched in sudden doubt. I wasn’t going to make it. He was going to all but kill me. There was no way to win this. Oh, God … what had I been thinking?

“You gave her doubt,” Al said wonderingly from the blackness. “That’s a very complex charm,” he breathed. “What else? Can you divine?”

“I can look backward,” Lee said nearby, panting.

“Oh!” Al said gleefully. “I have a marvelous idea! Make her recall her father’s death!”

“No …” I whispered. “Lee, if you have any compassion. Please.”

But his hated voice started whispering, and I groaned, falling into myself as a mental pain cut through the physical. My dad. My dad gasping his last. The feel of his dry hand in mine, the strength gone. I had stayed, refusing to leave for anything. I was there when his breaths stopped. I was there when his soul was freed, leaving me to fend for myself far, far too early. It had made me strong, but it had left me flawed.

“Dad,” I sobbed, my chest hurting. He had tried to stay, but couldn’t. He had tried to smile, but it was broken. “Oh, Dad,” I whispered, softer as the tears welled. I had tried to keep him there with me, but I hadn’t been able to.

A black depression rose from my thoughts, pulling me into myself. He had left me. I was alone. He had gone. No one had ever come close to filling the void. No one ever would.

Sobbing, the miserable memory of that awful moment when I realized he was gone filled me. It wasn’t when they pulled me from him at the hospital, but two weeks later when I broke the school’s eight hundred meters record and I looked into the stands for his proud smile. He was gone. And that was when I knew he was dead.