Broken Pieces

“B-but, ma’am,” the sobbing doll stammered out to the taller woman standing in front of it. “T-this one is far too broken to ever serve you properly, or give you everything you need…” The woman reached down, taking its fracture-marked hands. Her own were equally scarred.

“That’s okay, little one,” she spoke, barely a whisper. “I’m broken, too. So many fragments, barely held together. Both of us.” The doll sniffled quietly, looking up with a tilted head. The witch continued. “So many fragments of ourselves, scattered across time and space…”

“…but that’s okay,” she squeezed the doll’s hand gently. It winced, but found unexpected warmth. Still, the witch continued. “We can find them together. The ones we can’t, we can replace with something better.”

The cracks in the doll’s arm began to fill with a deep, nearly blood red liquid metal that shimmered and glowed under the starlight. The witch’s scars faded, slowly being replaced with sapphire-blue runework that complemented the doll’s own warding enchantments.

“And if a few pieces get mixed up along the way,” She smiled. “Well, that’s just how these things work, isn’t it?”


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