Chapter Three Part TwoMature

“So what does that mean?” I asked, aware I was asking a lot of questions.
“It means you're unique. You have some kind of power within the magical arts. But since this world I've joined seems to dismiss a lot as “fairytale”, I doubt you will ever discover it,” Azazel said.
“Why not?”
“Because if you haven't discovered your abilities by this point, you need the help of a skilled witch to do so. Somehow I doubt there is one around. If we could find a way to return to my time then we could easily locate someone to help you,” Azazel finished with a sigh and sat on my windowsill. I studied him watching those on level one. His rust coloured eyes moved to bore into the dome wall itself.

“Your time? I doubt it's possible to do that. Besides, in the 1700's there was war and disease and gods knows what else going on,” I replied, perching next to him.
“There was also forests, meadows, rivers and lakes,” he pointed out.
“Those could still exist...just can't see them,” I defended. Not believing my own words in the slightest. His raised eyebrow suggested he could tell as much by my faltering tone.
“Why don't we try to leave then? To find them?” He asked and I stared at him like he was crazy.
“We can't. The only people who leave are the ones who find more water. It's dangerous out there. And if you leave by your own freewill. The dome will refuse to grant you re-entry,” I explained, he didn't seem particularly phased.
“We could still do it,” He said, closing the space between us. He looked different under moonlight, it was easier to read the sharp angles of his face and spot his sharp teeth. I guess it made sense, most monsters don't appear until night.

“Dinner's ready!” Dad shouted up, interrupting the conversation. Though it had gone dead for some time as I'd felt his eyes study me as closely as I had him. I stood up quickly and turned to see Azazel lifting my window open.
“I won't bother you after this. Thanks for your kindness,” He said. Then he was gone. I ran to the window and stared out, looking for any hint of where he had gone. But all I saw was the empty street, and the homeless on level one gathered together. Desperately searching for warmth around a lit bins and pieces of scrap. After all that...and whatever the hell had just happened, he was gone. I ignored the slight sadness and walked downstairs. He said he wouldn't bother me anymore, so I should just forget him about him. Get on with my life as normal.

Why did that thought seem impossible to me?

The End

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