It took her a second or two to realize that she was flying. 

She'd lost sight for a moment or two—not a blackout, but a blinding beam of azure that seemed to swallow the world. When her vision came back, she realized that she was hovering a couple feet off the ground, brilliant ribbons of blue twisting and undulating around her limbs. The sleeves of her tunic flowed despite the lack of wind. Her head was tilted back, eyes trained on the sky.

And she couldn't control any of it. 

Panic seized her. She tried to speak, to scream—to do something to break the half-reverent, half-horrified silence that had settled over the crowd of people. She watched, consciousness severed from her body, as the shimmering blue tendrils gripped the silver Wardens. 

Don't hurt them. Whatever you do, don't hurt them—

It was easier to talk to the magic like it was a separate entity. But as she watched the tendrils encircle the Warden's frames, watched the strips of magic seep into their skin, watched the thick red blood start to splatter against the dirt road... 

It was a bit difficult to believe something mindless could be so evil. 

The Warden's bodies slipped to the ground with a muffled thump. 

It was an old woman who finally broke the heavy blanket of quiet that smothered everything. She extended a gnarled, crooked hand, pointing at Aubrey. 

"Witch," she said softly, the word almost imperceptible as it passed through her lips. 

Aubrey could feel the magic bleeding away from her. A hoarse shriek tore from her throat as she fell to the ground, shoulder twisting angrily. She shuddered as reality blurred and sharpened into a single clear, merciless image. 

She'd killed the Wardens. 

They were watching her like she was explosive. Like she was volatile. And for all she knew, she was. She sobbed, crumpled near lifelessly like a rag doll who'd had its stuffing ripped out. Please, she wanted to say, though she wasn't quite sure who or what the apology was for. 

The little boy with the moonstone was hiding behind his father, peering at her with wide, fearful eyes. 

It seemed that no one quite knew what to do with her. 

Her shoulder screamed. She curled her fingernails into her wrists, trying to part the eerie fog that seemed to be filling her slowly. Some of the people had knives drawn, but there was a surprising lack of fear as they started to press towards her slowly. She rolled onto her back and stared up at that brilliant blue sky, praying they'd do it quickly. 

"What the hell is going on here?"

It was her mother, shoving her way through the crowd with a kind of determination in her expression that Aubrey had never seen before. She wrapped her arms around her, pulling Aubrey up into a semi-seated position. Aubrey's head lolled against her shoulder. 

"I-I don't—" Aubrey cut herself off, crying silently. She was so, so tired. 

"Get away from the witch!" Someone yelled.

Her mother helped her to her feet, shooting the speaker a lethal glare. "This witch is my daughter," she said slowly, the words clear and concise. "And she's not a danger to any of you." 

Aubrey flinched. Her mother was wrong. She was a danger. She was the most dangerous person here. 

Aubrey's mother gripped her shoulders tightly, forcing Aubrey to face her. "Listen to me," she said softly. "Are you listening?"

Aubrey nodded shakily, trying to drag herself out of the static filling her mind. 

"You need to run." She looked like her heart was breaking, but her eyes were filled with love. "You need to leave now, or they'll kill you." She pressed a gentle kiss to Aubrey's temple. "Can you do that?" 

"I think so," she replied quietly, blinking rapidly to try and stop her tears from falling. "But what about you?" 

"I'll be fine." Her mother smiled weakly. "I'll give you an opening, but then you have to go." 

"For how long?"

Aubrey's mother's gaze wandered, and Aubrey could see her staring at the Warden's corpses. 

"Maybe forever," she said sadly. 

Aubrey frowned. Forever wasn't real, but she understood the concept well enough. And she couldn't quite comprehend an almost-forever not in this little town. 

Aubrey's mother pulled away from her, steely determination flashing in her eyes. "My daughter killed the Wardens," she said, not a trace of emotion in her voice. "But more will be back. And if they find her, they'll kill her. And we can't let that happen."

Protests and shouts rose up from the crowd, but Aubrey's mother raised a hand, silencing them. 

"She saved the little boy," she pointed out. "But you're right. She's unstable. We can't let her stay here."

The words stung. Aubrey just wanted to go back inside and lie in her bed for a week or a month or a year, but she forced herself to stand strong. She'd done this. These were the consequences of her wretched, evil actions. 

"I propose we let her leave," Aubrey's mother said, tone unwavering. "We exile her from the town and none of us will ever have to worry about her again."

Aubrey swayed unsteadily, feeling lightheaded and weightless. Like she was underwater. Nothing about this felt real. 

"Fine." One of the armed men lowered his knife uneasily. "We'll give her ten minutes to run, but she better be gone by then. Otherwise she's dead."

Aubrey blanched, but her mother nodded. "That sounds fair. Aubrey?" She said, a sorrowful smile on her face. 

"I—" she shivered. "Okay," she whispered. "I'll go. Do I just..." she trailed off, looking around. She wasn't quite sure what to do. 

"Leave," the armed man snarled. The crowd shifted restlessly behind him. 

"Okay," she repeated, stumbling down the roads. 

Trees stretched upwards beyond the town's edge. When she was younger she used to fantasize about running away and embarking on some grand adventure, eager to escape her mother's restrictions. But her mother had been right all along. 

She slipped past the markets and bakeries, moving as quickly as she could. She still felt dizzy. Like she could collapse at any second. People barely gave her a passing glance. News of what had happened hadn't yet reached them, she supposed. 

The rough gravel roads slowly gave way to trees. Weak, trembling, and exhausted, Aubrey made her way into the unknown.