#aarachat Knows LMAOAOAOAO

[self-spaghettification]

SBCW 2 Day 1: Pieces

And just like that, the mirror fell to pieces, an ear splitting cacophony of glass shards ringing out.

…Audible even in the dizzy rush of the switch of consciousness.

It was over, and everyone was satisfied enough with his stuttered reassurances of wellbeing to leave him alone for now.

Callum crouched down to examine a shard, seeing his own face in the reflections, broken and distorted and …wrong. Like the way Callum felt after he had regained control of his own body- strangely disconnected from his own limbs, his own vocal cords- I have no voice, yet I must scream.

Rayla and Ezran and Soren all looked at him differently after that too, concerned, but afraid. He couldn’t blame them, either. He wished he could just tell them he’d never say any of that to them, that it wasn’t true, but it wouldn’t matter.

It wasn’t fair. He had spent so long chasing magic, chasing freedom, and after all the hard choices and refusal…and with everything with Rayla it felt like magic was the only constant that had been there for him and now…

He had no idea what to do now. He had no idea how to contact Aaravos, how to get him out of his head, if he would come back at any moment. Breathe, just breathe, Callum. It’ll be ok.

How much longer could he keep telling himself that?

This mirror was supposed to be something key.

The key… Harrow had given it to him. He was destined for magic.

That was supposed to be a good thing. He could help people. He was a mage. But now… the words just felt sour and sick.

He would never even know the primal sources well if not for Aaravos’s key. This whole time he had been pursuing magic from someone who would do… this?

He was useless…powerless…even more so than when… when he wasn’t good at anything. For a moment, part of him wished he had never picked up that primal stone. Was it better to be good at nothing at all than to be destined for evil? He honestly… didn’t know.

No, no. Bad thought. If he could just…. Avoid dark magic, that should be enough, right?

The thought felt hollow after this, like Aaravos had taken it from him too.

He blinked tight, and seared in his eyes was the way it felt for foreign magic to be forced through them, for them to shine as his body was brought to a bow. Haunting even his eyes at rest, he forced them open once again.

He picked up a shard, holding it tight in his hand, catching his likeness in the now hollowed glass. Despite everything, it was still…him.

A broken reflection, how more fitting could it be? He thought he had known who he was, had finally started to heal and then just… there she was.

Only with this, it’s not like he could just pick up the pieces and try again. It had seemed so solid and yet…One petty flourish and the mirror had fallen to pieces. What last tap would it take for Callum to break?

Rivulets ran crimson down his wrist, absentminded and unwittingly holding a broken piece so tight it hurt him, and yet… he just couldn’t let go.

There was no second guessing it. He couldn’t let this happen to him again. Whatever it took, he refused to let himself be someone he couldn’t. To lose control like that again. He looked away, but the question had already slithered in— Just what exactly would it take?

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Thanks 2 @parroset for beta/feedback bc I was convinced this was garbage but maybe it is. Decent? anyway I have barely any experience writing Callum so we learn as we go fr🙏