Screaming, pleading, reaching out—all in vain—she helplessly watched the portal vanish, the witch's triumphant smirk indelibly imprinted on her brain as it disappeared beneath the shimmering, collapsing, erasing emerald edges.
She was stuck in this unknown place. As...Mackenzie, she'd called her? The name was irrelevant, as every fiber of her being rejected it. The witch had half-heartedly, half-teasingly forced this identity onto her, just as she had forced upon "Mackenzie" her petite new body. However, she'd already had a name, albeit one almost comically unsuitable by this point—that of a boy now long gone. In its place, she'd been given a name she managed to detest even more than her fragile self.
Yet, regardless of how she felt, the fact lingered over her soul: Nameless or no, she was a little girl now. And she had been marooned to a new, uncertain fate.