W.I.T.C.H. Porn Story: Silver Dawn Chapter 1

W.I.T.C.H. Porn Story: Silver Dawn Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing of this series.

Title: Silver Dawn

Author: Sweetbriar

Pairings: Canon (Will/Matt, Taranee/Nigel, Cornelia/Caleb, Hay Lin/Eric). Irma/Martin.

Summary: One year after Nerissas defeat, Matt is still struggling to work through some things. The problem is that someone else has been waiting, too. Matt is going to have to fight harder than he ever has before just to keep his sanity, never mind everything else

Type: Multichapter story

Universe/Series: Omniscience Universe/Part One of Series

Authors Note: This is my first venture into a longer story for the W. I. T. C. H. fanfiction archives, and it is mainly Matt-centric. However, it is also going to be setting up the stage for a sequel, which will involve more Guardians fighting to keep the universe in balance and all that (no, the sequel will not contain OC children-of-W. I. T. C. H. or OC other-Guardians-who-arent-W. I. T. C. H.).

My two favorite relationships are Will/Matt and Cornelia/Caleb, so those are a kind of focus for me. But this story isnt all about romance. I want to explore Matts character and Calebs, because theres just something about the two of them that makes the writer in me feeling like cracking my fingers and typing all night long.

I really want to get in there and explore the repercussions to all of these teenagerstheyve become warriors. W. I. T. C. H. was a group of twelve and thirteen year olds who essentially went to war; Caleb was practically raised fighting; Matt was thrown into it, but with his Shagon experience has endured something that none of the others have faced. These characters are made for analyzing. And my particular focus is those two boys. :)

Anyway, after this long and probably tiring note, Ill let you get to the story! Enjoy the first chapter!

Chapter One: Nightmare

They are all dancing, but he has eyes only for her.

Her arms are raised above her head as she spins in a circle, four other bodies in a cluster with her. Her red hair spins and snaps around her face, striking her cheeks with delicate brushes. His fingers strum the guitar, and she circles her hips, spinning around to face him again. Her eyes open, and the brown shines with happiness. Her eyes lock on his, and he feels his cheeks as they spread into a smile.

He feels. He sees. But he doesnt direct his own movements.

The airs smoggy, as if hes trapped in a haunted house that went loco with the fog machine. The opaque, gray blankness of it is disconcerting, especially since its not completely flat in color. He can see through the haze, to the other side where she dancesand when he closes his eyes, he can see.

Its the strangest sensation hes ever felt. When he closes his eyes, he feels them open. He can see the world around him. And when he opens his eyes, the gray mist clouds his vision, slowly encroaching on his line of sight again until hes seeing everything through a veil.

He knows what this means: hes alternately closing his eyes to his own mind, thus opening them to the world. And then he closes his real eyes, the ones that are in the physical reality his body is grounded in, and can seen inside his own head again. Hes trapped in the fog again.

Its not a random ability that he gained for no reason. This is orchestrated, manipulated, in his own heada familiar enemy he dares not to name, one that he knew, knew, he defeatedand it cant be real. This cannot be reality, because he escaped this reality.

He escaped Shagon.

But no, he didnt, because he with his eyes closed he can see through the sheer blanket of gray mist. He can see her. Shes standing in front of him, dancing as he and his band play the music for the feet of she and her friends to move to. A taller, older boy is standing across the room from the band, watching the blond with particular interest. Everyone is here, even though only he knows these girls and this boy. The rest of his band is left mercifully in the dark.

But thats not the point.

The point is that hes playing, but hes not. Hes watching, but he isnt in control of his eyes. This is a nightmare, and he cant wake up from it because hes not asleep. Hes not asleephes trapped

Yes, you are. That voice.

He turns around without actually, physically moving. And therehe stands. Its like looking into a mirror. He sees himself, not Shagon. And the first thing he can think is, No.

Hethe other himsmirks.

Youre not me. Youreyoure a monster! You have wings and a tail, a golden maskmuscles! Weird clothes! Hes listing off physical appearances, but Shagon is still him. Shagon is still in disguise, but thats impossible in his own mind. He never hid before, not in histheirhead.

But I am you. Just look at me. Shagon spreads his arms wide.

Noyou feed on hatred. You hurt my friends, myWill, you tried to hurt her! Hes overcome with a wave of fearsomely strong rage. You tried to kill her!

That wasnt me. Shagon smirks.

He scoffs, enraged. Well, it sure wasnt me!

Are you so certain it wasnt you? Theres a flat panel beside him, where he hadnt looked before. Theyre still across from one another in the fog, but now he knows that hes in his own head. Hes locked in his own mind. And that flat panel is a mirror.

He cant help himself. He moves towards it, while Shagon stands there, smirking. And as he stops in front of the mirror, his jaw drops. A second later, he whispers, What did you do to me?

Something echoes from far away, but he cant make it out.

Shagon triumphantly grins. I did nothing. This is you.

No.

But it is. You know that what I felt is what you felt. You know why I backed off when she ordered us to do something.

No.

The echoing noise sounds again, a little closer.

Yes. You know I backed off when you wanted to. You were connected to me then, and so I acted as you would have had me act.

I would have had you destroy yourself, and you know it, he replies angrily. And were not connected, except for sharing a body.

Shagon shakes his head, the smirk widening. Touchy, touchy. Better control that hatred, boy. You never know when you might want to keep it under wraps when fighting an enemy.

The echo sounds like a voice.

You cant siphon off my hatred to fuel your powers. Theyre useless here.

What makes you so sure I cant use your hatred? Shagons smirk has grown triumphant. Youre right, Ill give you that. But Ill also give you a hint as to whyit has nothing to do with our proximity to one another.

Youre in my head, he counters. Isnt that enough to keep you from drawing on it? But he feels afraid anyway.

The echoing voice is slightly louder, almost audible.

Of course not. Come on, you know the real reason. And suddenly, he is unable to move as Shagon circles him. The hazy fog in his mind is surrounding him, holding him in place as it loops lazy tentacles around his wrists and ankles. The hissing whisper of his own voice sounds in his ears. You know why I havent left. You know why Im still here.

The echoing, other voice has a message. Matt?

You know why you dream this at night. His eyes are closed as he struggles to deny the voice in his ear, which means he can see beyond the mists in his head to the world.

He sees her, no longer dancing in jeans and a T-shirt but wearing the revealing, beautiful fairy costume of her calling. He sees her, trapped by metal against a pole supporting the pier.

Matt?

You know why I havent left your mind. You know why you cant stop from hearing these words over and over. You know what Nerissa really did to you. You know why you look like me, and why I look like you. He turns his head away, trying not to listen to the voice in his ear.

Matt.

You know why I cant leave your head. He is watching her as she struggles against the bonds of steel that wrap her tightly to the pole. Hes too close to her, an odd thing to think considering how he always longs to be even closer to her, but in this situation he wants her as far from him as she can get. You know its not your head, but ours.

Matt.

He still isnt controlling his body as his wings flap and he hovers closer and lower, face at her level. Her eyes are wide and distrustful, frightened and angered and fullfully of pain and hatred. You know. And hes struggling in the world of hazy mist and tentacle-wielding clouds, which hold him in place as he struggles futilely against their grip. You always knew.

Matt.

You cant hide from me. He hangs his head as he struggles, unwilling to listen. His eyes closed, squeezed shut, as he tries his hardest not to see anything. Not her tear-streaked face, not the fog that surrounds him, not the body of the voice that hisses deadly words in his ear. Youll never be able to hide from me. You cant lock me in the back of your mind.

Matt!

I am you. His wrists feel chafed and raw. His own mouth is moving soundlessly, unable to put into verbal denial all that he feels. I feel what you feel. I love her, too.

Matt!

Because Im a part of you. The part you deny, shove away, trap, imprisonbut the part that is still there within you.

Matt!

And I will always beright here.

Matt!

Matt!

With a start, the ebony-haired teen bolted upright in bed violently.

He jerked right out of his tangled nest of sheets, and his sleepy mind could only deduce that the sheets were keeping his limbs trapped to his body. The sensation was a flashback to his dream. Not even hesitating, he fought them, twisting and arching his back as he struggled to free himself. Letting out a hoarse cry, he tumbled to the floor. The fall shook him back into his senses.

Blinking and panting, Matt ran a hand through his hair as his eyes sought the room for those familiar belongings that made him realize he was at home. Lifting his head off the ground, he noted that everything was as it should be. There was nothing wrong. He wasnt trapped in his own head again, watching Will dance with her friends to his bands musicor worse, fighting her in her Guardian form.

With a dull thud, his head fell back to the floor. Just a dream, he said quietly. It was all in his headand oh, he really appreciated the irony of that one.

Matt! His mothers impatient tone made him bolt upright, realizing with a flushed grimace that at least one part of the dream had been real.

Scrambling to find his feet and make his way across the room, he stumbled into a chair and a pair of shoes before slamming into the wall. Stretching out one hand for the doorknob, he pulled the door open and stuck his head out into the hallway. Yeah, mom?

She paused for a moment, and he winced as he realized that meant shed been calling up the stairs for at least two minutes. Im going to be out late tonight. If you want it, dinners in the freezer. No ordering out. Your fathers still out of town for a business trip and hell be gone for two days. And your grandfathers store is closed today, so he said you can work in the shop tomorrow.

All of which he actually already knew. All right, mom, he replied, and made to close the door.

If your band gets together to play, remember to mind what the neighbors say, she added.

Okay, mom.

A pause, then, I love you, honey. See you tomorrow.

Love you too.

The door closed downstairs, and Matt pulled his head back into his room, closing the door behind him. Cracking his neck, he rolled his head a few times before reaching for a small bag that lay on the bookshelf nearest the door. Rubbing his eyes with his other hand, he called out, Hey, Mr. Huggles, want some breakfast?

A faint scrabbling on his sleep pants informed him that the dormouse was making its way to his hand. He grabbed the little guy before he reached the bare skin of Matts torso, placing Huggles on his shoulder and holding up a palm full of food to the little creature. There you go.

Making his way towards the bathroom with the mouse on his shoulder, Matt yawned three times before flicking the light switch of the room that was joined with his by a door. His own private bathroom in a house that he pretty much always had privacy in. There was another bit of irony that he always got.

In the bathroom, he reached for a washcloth first, dousing it in cold water before doing anything else. His eyes felt gummy and stuck together, a sure sign that hed been up late the night before. One of his newer songs had deserved some work, and hed really given it some thought.

So much thought, that this Saturday morning was starting off at eight instead of six. Hed usually chill a little in the mornings before he had to get out and do the grocery shoppingand sparring with Calebbut today he had time for a shower and breakfast, and that was about it.

He washed his face and finally was able to blink his eyes open. He looked at himself in the mirror for a long moment, the remembrance of that nightmare making him hesitate when he saw his own face. His eyes slid away from the mirror quickly, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

It was really kind of sad how his own reflection could make him remember all the bad stuff. He recalled his weakness against Shagon for weeks, and his subsequent rebellion against his inner darknessjust in time for Nerissa to steal his powers back. He remembered how much pain and stress hed added to Wills already sky-high pile of stressors. Hed hurt the Guardians, his friends, his parents, and an alien planet, only to be accepted back into the fold of the people who knew about the Guardian stuff without question.

Not to mention that hed become a Regent of Earth along with Napoleon and Huggles about a year ago. It was creepy enough when hed taken on Shagon in his own head, but to voluntarily look like him when he utilized his Lillian-given abilities was nerve-wracking. It made him feel like that part of his psyche was still there, simmering beneath the surface and waiting to take back control of his body.

His eyes were squeezed shut, but the memories were playing. He saw through his own eyes all those things that would not leave his memory. He recalled them in his mind, one by one, through no will of his own. It was happening because he closed his eyes and let it happen. He saw the bad, over and over again, like a video in his memory. It wouldnt leave him alone. The memories just wouldnt stop.

He was starting to sound a little bit crazy. Starting to feel like it, too. Itd been a year now: twelve months without Nerissa trying to rule the universe. And still the memories wouldnt leave him alone.

Matt pushed the thought away: hed be fine. He needed a bit more time, that was all. Just a bit. And who cared that the nightmare-Shagon might be telling the truth? If it hadnt happened yet, it wouldnt, right?

Sighing, he opened his eyes and looked down at the countertop. Huggles snuffled at his neck in a sense of solidarity for a fellow Regent: Matt, Napoleon and Huggles were somewhat connected now. He could tell that Huggles felt sympathy for whatever was troubling Matt.

Plus, the dormouse wanted some more food. Smiling to himself, Matt reached over to the bag hed dropped on the counter, knowing that Huggles would be hungry for more.

As he reached, he saw his hand and froze. Disappointed, Huggles leapt off his shoulder and dove for the bag all on his own.

A ring of purplish bruising circled his wrist. The marks were unlike anything hed seen beforeit wasnt the sheets wrapping around his wrist that caused that sleek pattern. No way. It was something else entirely. Like those mists in his dream had become solid, and were harder than steel, and had been able to bruise him while he slept

Matt moved his hand closer to his facemaybe it was an illusion? He poked at his wrist with his finger, and a twinge of pain rewarded his effort. Nope, those were real. And, as a matter of fact

He lifted his other arm, having glimpses similar marks on that hand as well. No, they were on both wrists. In the places they had been in his dream Heart in his throat, Matt bent down and lifted the bottoms of his pants, exposing his ankles.

They were there, too. Like the dream had been real

Staggering backwards, he collapsed on the floor, his back curving against the wall. He held his arms out in front of him, staring blankly at the bruises marring his skin. Huggles, full of food, jumped off the counter and sat at his side, chattering away in dormouse-speak. Matt didnt react to that.

Hed had that nightmare over and over again, and it had never left bruises. Sometimes his wrists ached, but he thought it was just a phantom shadow of the dream. It had faded once the day got goingusually. He remembered the last time he had the dream, one week ago, that the ache hadnt faded until it was nighttime again. But hed thought nothing of it. Now, thoughwith bruises

In a murmur, a bare whisper, he asked thin air, Whats happening to me?

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