Year's Previous...

Daemon Prince of the Outer Dark. Skin scaled and thick, colored like the dried blood that stained battlefields. Carrion King. Leathery wings that cover the world in a dark, hopeless shadow. Iron-throned. Large muscular build, wielding a blade of black iron with the the marks of the sinister dark crow that sits at his side. The gnarled red horns that make up The Destroyer.
 
This is what looms deep within my dreams. Hovering over me and grabbing my horns tight enough to shatter them completely, but my screams are silent in the mass of his genocidal wake.

Desperate bare feet against stone pavement. What was that going by? Ducking into alley ways to catch a breath. Only for a moment. I must move. Now. My parents are coming for me. They will find me. The city breathed in and out. He will find me. I kept running. Over there! I clutched a small knife to my chest. I think she ran this way. I tightened my grip. The gates were not far. If I could just get past. I kept running. Running. Lifted into the air. I kicked my legs, crying out as tears blurred my crimson vision. Desperate bare feet twisted, wrapping my legs around their head. I twisted. I kept going. Desperate. I cried out and was dropped to the floor. Pain. Please. I kept running. The gates. The guards. They see me, they're coming. I stopped running. I waited. They lunged for the gray and crimson handles. I shifted. I cut. They screamed. I kept running.
 
Its just a child. She is weak. Leave her to die in the wild.
 
I kept running.

I lived on the streets of various refugee camps. Nobody wanted to help the spawn of the same people that put them here. I kept my head covered with potato sack hoods and kept my tail wrapped around my leg. I didn't meet their eyes. I would crouch near the food supplies, and when they weren't looking, I would use my magic to make a loud sound like the cracking of a barrel being broken. I would take a handful and I would run. I should have kept running. A man stopped me, older in his features, he put his hands on my shoulders and I thought he would turn me in. But he turned me toward him, crouching down with a eerie smile on his face. He lowered my hood and I hissed in his face. I tried to move but he held my arms firmly. He asked me if I liked magic. I nodded. He asked me if I wanted to learn more of it. I nodded again. His smile grew and I shrunk away.
 
"I can help you get a lot of magic. I can help you get powerful."
 
I told him I wanted that, and he told me he would help me. He stood up, tossing my potato sack to the side. He put his hand out, pulling my chin up and pushing my shoulders back. He pushed me forward towards an expensive carriage. Folk watched us leave with glaring eyes. I never questioned how he knew my language.
 
You will be my precious jewel. You will learn from my maids on how to speak, eat, and act properly. You will come with me to my events. You will let them pet your hair. You will let them touch your horns. You will let them pull on your tail. You will speak only when spoken too and in the politest of manners. And if you can do all these things. You will go to the academy. And when you're done there. You will come back to work for me.

Crowded halls and excited murmurs. Year One would soon begin. Bright red robes made my darker features stand out, but I was well trained in fading into the background of social settings. A few trained wandering eyes towards the shiny silver caps on the edge of my horns were taken as judgemental. They were answered in kind.
 
"Does the shine on my horns entrance you so much that you can not help but stare Or are you startled by your own stupid looking reflections."
 
My words snapped out of my mouth before I could stop them and they quickly looked away from me, whispering amongst themselves nervously. It was then I realized that I did not have anyone here to hold me back. I leaned back in my seat and a smirk played across my face if only for a moment.
 
Somewhere in the room I could hear a ticking of a clock. Tick-tick-tick. It didn't seem to bother anyone else.

The year went by smoother than she had originally expected. Despite struggling early on in reading and writing, she excelled wildly in anything having to do with spell craft. And as her grades improved, her hunger to become stronger increased tenfold. This... this would come easy to her. If she focused.. she could get revenge on old man Oryus. Maybe even... She smiled to herself, alone in a quiet part of the library.
 
Materials were set in front of her multiple times throughout her year. She was told to create something that would benefit her spell casting. Something she could hold onto. Carefully she spent time with some of the only materials she was used too. Stone, wax and water. Her final project was nothing impressive, but it was useful to her. She had grown accustom to fire spells, despite the nervous looks she would get, and wanted a place to practice her control over flames. She made a simple candle holder out of stone by grinding the stone against a harder material, and a candle in which to sit on it proudly.

I feel more focused than I have ever been able to be before. Orange robes remind me of the fires dotting the horizon of every warzone passed on the way to the camps. Safe to say I don't like them for a lot more than just the color.
 
Some people have tried to approach me and speak with me. Screw them. I don't wan't them around. I don't want to make friends. Friends are just a weakness. I can't be weak. I'm not weak. Despite what my parents tried to drill in me. Despite the looks of pity from the old man. I am not weak.
 
I never was.

Second year is when she really started to grow accustomed to her sorcerer powers. She took her studies very seriously. At times staying up late by candlelight just to learn just a little bit more before falling asleep at her table. Her search for knowledge felt unquenchable. Or was it her search for power? It was around this time she became thoroughly convinced that not only would she get her revenge for years of humiliation by her patron, but she would get her revenge for the terror instilled in her mind by the Iron Empire. The nightmares that still hang around.
 
She's noticing a lot more that the ticking of clocks have an few different affects on her. She's always been able to pick out a pocket watch in a crowded street or hall, but sometimes the tick-tick-ticking frustrates her. Sometimes it focuses her. She's not sure what to make of it.
 
For her final project in Elemental Studies, she focused on accumulating her magical energy in an central area with an outward demonstration. Using a combination of Fire Bolt, Control Flames, Gust, and a sprinkle of Thaumaturgey (for the drama), she would create a very small version of a fire tornado. Demonstrating her ability to put in enough gathered energy with one cantrips matrix before switching to the next in order to keep the flames controlled, and the air spinning. In the end she was able to grow the twister until it was as tall as she was before she cut it down the middle with her own tail.

The ticking. That has to be what it is. I usually consider myself quite composed overall but sometimes those... damn clocks just trigger something else in me. What does the ticking have to do with the fact that I just cracked this bathroom mirror, and then repaired it 20 seconds later with a spell that is supposed to be instantly cast.
 
Time? Is that it? Was I able to slow down the spell matrix itself...? That seems crazy but, well I do suppose I've already heard worse about me. What's a little bit of being a lunatic going to hurt my already dreadful reputation with the rest of the students.
 
Not that I've ever cared. Their sneering faces disgust me.

Upon further investigation, she confirmed her initial theory was correct. She was able to slow down her spell matrix's to delay their launch for up to 20 or so seconds. She was already busy with her classes for this year, but not she had something new to focus on. Something rare.
 
She was struggling a bit with learning the various runic alphabets, having only just learned how to read and write common a few years prior. However her interest in the subject kept her focused on doing her best, despite the challenge. She switched her final project from some simple infernal translations to doing a deep dive of all the various runic cultures concepts of time and time magics. Chronomancy. Using this deep dive she mapped out various runic matrices shared among cultures to get a better handle on the runes themselves.