Here's the beginning of a story I never finished:

My heart pounded as I watched thick tendrils of dark smoke fill the village in the valley. I heard panicking voices and screams of distress as I stood there, frozen, unable to move nor do anything about it. One thought throbbed in my head: I did this. 

Ever since I manifested my magical ability, I knew that only trouble and wrath would come out of me. While other children received gifts of healing, growth, and elemental control, including my sister, Avalyn, who could bring forth life from her bare fingers, I received a gift of destruction. A curse. It was like an uncontrollable beast within me, causing disasters which started small from flowers dying to raging storms taking over the whole land. What I did just now was just another thing to add to my list of destruction.

I continued to stare as the smoke receded, leaving a decimated village as if a tornado had crashed through. People were beginning to come out, and I knew I needed to escape—before they realized it was me, the cursed one, who did this to their precious homes.

I ran, escaping to the forest nearby, panting as I caught my breath. Tears stung the corner of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall—how could I deserve to cry if I was the one who caused the disaster? If I was the villain? But still, I could not keep them from falling, as I thought about the simplest mistake I made, the slightest wrong gesture, and calamities would rain down upon whomever or whatever I happened to point to at that time. Thus, I was always on the run, unable to settle anywhere for long before tragedies were brought upon those around me. The ruination of my family, the reason why I was alone in the first place—that was all my fault. 

I remembered the times when Avalyn had saved many more accidents from happening with her gift of life. But after the king had recognized her talent, she was off living the best life she could ever hope for—without the burden of a cursed sibling weighing her down.

After some time, I went over to a distant town, because although I knew I should avoid anything that could be subject to my destruction, I yearned to know how Avalyn was faring. She was certainly doing better than I was, right? She was probably saving lives at this very moment.

Carefully hiding myself beneath a cloak and especially my hands to keep from any more misfortunes, I walked through town, eavesdropping on conversations amidst the lively bustle of a waking town, the complete opposite of the village I had just decimated.

“Didja hear about the new musicians comin’ to town-?”

“That old inn’s ‘bout to close any day now…”

“There goes that angel again, saving lives in the city over ‘yonder.”

I whipped my head around to face the source of the voice, a man with a mustache chatting with another with pale blue eyes, holding a freshly printed newspaper. The “angel” was what many people referred to Avalyn as, which seemed accurate, being the complete opposite of me. I lingered nearby to pick up more lines of their conversation.

“Indeed, Vlan, she is quite the heroine. You know, I have been informed that the king is sending her to Pyrithe.” I could tell from his clipped and superior voice that the man with the blue eyes was from the capital, someone who easily gained valuable information about whatever was happening currently related to Avalyn and the kingdom as a whole.

“Pyrithe!?” Vlan exclaimed, sounding shocked. “Now tell me, Kenek, why’d the king send his most beloved and gifted sorceress to someplace as dangerous as Pyrithe!?”

“I am certain you have heard about the withered state of that land, how it is filled with foul beasts with pure evil intent,” Kenek said. “And so far, no magic user has been able to lift the curse of that land, to let plants and life flourish upon its barren grounds. But Avalyn may be powerful enough to do so.”

“Might as well take the chance while ya have it,” Vlan mused. “I pity the angel, though. She coulda gone on doin’ so much more, but if she’s assigned to Pyrithe…it’s well-nigh impossible for her to make it out alive.”

“That unfortunately, seems to be the case,” Kenek replied. “The king, however, has many more spares to replace her, if it does go awry, as it appears it will. We can only hope for the best.”

My eyes widened as I listened to these words. I had always told myself to stay away from Avalyn—it was best for her and her own safety—but hearing this, I knew I had to do something. I could never forgive myself if Avalyn…

Unable to bring myself to think those words, I decided I would go over to Pyrithe and somehow save her. Although I knew this plan would likely lead to failure, I had to at least try. Using a map I found left on an abandoned crate, I made my way to Pyrithe, traveling by foot, and what kept me from collapsing in exhaustion was the sheer determination to try to save Avalyn. 

I stopped, wiped out as I stared into the edge of a dark forest—Pyrithe, the land of beasts and doom. It was said to once be a prosperous and fertile land, but a curse upon it caused everything to wither away, and it would remain that way until the curse was lifted. 

I took a deep breath, and I entered Pyrithe. Immediately, I felt like shadows consumed my surroundings, and an eerie silence hung in the air. I continued walking deeper and deeper, until I suddenly heard a roar. I turned around, face to face with a giant beast with coarse black fur and ram-like horns. I backed off slowly, before darting away into the forest once I was out of the beast’s view. 

I felt more worried than ever about Avalyn. She had a gift for life, but no means of defeating any Pyrithian beasts.  

This is what I’m fighting for.  The only thing that kept her alive. That kept her going. That pushed air into her slowly closing lungs. That made her body keep climbing. That kept her essence, that claimed her soul. Kahara’s feet were sore and muddy and bare. Her hands were scraped and bleeding. Her legs were bruised, battered beyond repair from the sharpest rocks, rocks that's points were more like jagged daggers, sharpened to a deadly tapered point. . She tugged herself up the rocks. She was restless. She couldn’t rest. She would fall. She was never going to let go.

 Never.

  She weakley licked her dry lips, hoping for just small drops of perspiration, and if she was really lucky, water. But Kahara never was lucky. The higher you go, the worse the fall. She was focused, zoned in on only the bland rocks, those slabs of gray that were somehow  her nightmare.. Her ears were numb to hearing her heart hammering on her rib cage. Her feet were oblivious to the scratches that scarred and burned her. Kahara’s mind was only the slightest echo of importance. All her eyes could see were shades of gray. For days now,-or was it weeks?- she could hear a gushing, rushing, waterfall on the other side of rocks, these rocks that only went up, never seemed to stop, and would never, ever, go down, no matter how hard you-or anyone else- tried. The lush rushing and flowing of water had tempted her, reminding her slightly of life, manipulating and toying with her mind for hours, digging in her mind, her mind that thought of nothing, that wasn’t important, but she knew, in her heart she craved water more than anything. Needed it. 

At night, Kahara was the strongest, where her limbs would relax slightly, helping her remember a little bit about home, about water, about a little girl with black hair flowing like glossy ravens in flight, a mini image of Kahara herself, anything in fact, that would keep her, well…herself, the person even she didn’t know. 

But she was also the most vulnerable, with the dark encasing around her.

 She gritted her teeth weakly, as the horizon glinted with an edge of brilliant scarlet light wickedly, threatening only  mere minutes of dark.  And then she somehow managed to see it: a single ruby pomegranate hanging on a branch near her, its ruby coat glinting a soft vermilion from the now ever-present glare of the sun. This surprised her. She had sensed nor seen nothing but rocks for days. And even now, the rocks were damp and slippery from the waterfall. She was alive from licking the stale water and holding on, because no matter how strong you are, even if you were Kahara, the fighter, the climber, the survivor, there will always be fate. 

So she almost missed it.

 The sun was beating on her, whipping light brutally on her burned arms, and seeing the pomegranate, well, how could she resist. Kahara was so delirious from lack of food and proper water, and just from trying to keep her mind. She didn’t even wonder how it got there. She carefully climbed down, reaching out…. And then somehow, her numb, tired feet slipped out from under her, and she fell, plummeting

  Down, 

    Down,

        Down.

Here's a little something. And I liked your stories, @Moon Wolf and KatanaLuna! They were really intriguing 

The girl coughed weakly. “I’m… Oheni.” she said slowly.

“O-N-E?” Daniel asked, confused. “As in the number one?”

A ghost of a smile flickered across the girl’s face. “No. But in a way, yes. Just spell out the number one fast, and it sounds like my name.”

“O-N-E,” Daniel tried. “Oheni.”

“I guess your parents think you’re number one,” Belle joked.

A look of sadness crossed Oheni’s face. “I wouldn’t know. They’re dead.”

In her dreams, Ansa is running from the sky.