Morgana could see how incredibly dull the day was already. In fact,
nothing seemed different than from the next day. She streched her lean body as
she rose from her bed, and looked in the mirror. Even careful study could not
tell anyone about her. She did not have the tell tale signs on her
hands like
bards, nor did she have the deep lines around the eyes as the scribe did. She
realized that she looked like the oridinary citizen. Her full, red lips
twisted into a smile as she looked out upon the lake outside of the window.
She stretched again and moved around her abode.
She sighed exasperatingly as she noticed the mess which had occured last
night.
'I really must be more careful with my things,' she thought, as she began to
pick them up and place them where they belonged. Her lute, and pipe,
the herbs
she had gathered for knowledge, various texts lying around; all of them were
put back in their place before she even began to dress.
It took her around an hour to her estimates to simply clean all of the things
from her space. She moved elegantly, her night gown swaying with her
movements
around her bare feet. She finally remembered to dress, even after ingesting
some of the powerful herb that she had.
For someone who lived alone in an small, rural area, her clothes were not that
of a peasant, but of a noble woman. That day she wore a dark emerald colored
gown and leather bodice with gold laces and trim. Her long, dark hair was
pulled up loosely and she checked in the looking glass once again. She nodded
simply, and went on abuot her business of the day.
Morgana ingested more of the herb, going deeper and deeper towards her
introversion with every bit that she ingested. She then made a tea of it and
sat down on the floor with her books. She read for about an hour, sipping the
tea as she went, and then put the book down. She sighed, and picked up the
assorted tiles that were on the floor.
Each of the tiles was exquisitely carved, she was quite proud of them. They
were all a dark, luminescent rock that had a symbol engraved upon its surface,
and each of them portrayed a certain meaning. They came from the Northern
Country, the part that the nobles called the barbarians. Those
barbarians were
smarter than the nobles were bargaining for, and Morgana knew it. She simply
smiled with the knowledge.
Morgana picked up the tiles and arranged them, getting out her paints. There
were rare days that she preferred them over the cards that she had, but when
she did prefer this method, she meditated upon them as much as she
could. She
crossed her legs and stared at Sigel, and felt the lives of others. She knew
that she would not have much more time to herself. Instead of being
interrupted in her meditations, she simply stopped and placed the runes in a
small bag that she had made for them. The healing properties of the
particular
stone they were engraved on had been explored and found to be valid. It took
the sheen from the stone, but to Morgana, it made no difference. The chakras
of all that she had helped were emulated in them, and it did not matter that
the stones were not as pleasing as when they were new. It was obvious to all
that they were well used. And that was all for which she asked.
Presently, there came a knock at her door. She hid all of the obvious things
and opened the door to her small, four room home. She immediately recognized
the man at the door. "Greetings, my friend," she studied the disheveled
traveler. "What can I help you with?"
"Oh, miss, something terrible has happened. It's Geniveve. She's so
sick, she
needs your help. There is nothing that anyone else can do." John looked at
her hopefully, not knowing what else to say, but only that he knew that he had
come to the right place.
"Yes, I will help." Morgana spun around and opened her traveling bag, humming
busily as she did it and concentrating on her own being. She picked up the
wand with the beautiful crystal on the end, the pouch filled with runes, and
four sticks of insense. She studied John out of the corner of her eye and
silently cursed the nobles for the position they had placed the peasants in,
and wondering how people could be so cruel to their own. She simply
went about
her business, and planned her actions for later. The health of Genieve,
John's
wife, was at stake, and Morgana had watched both of them for so long that she
knew how terrible the loss of Genieve would be. She spun around suddenly,
shocking the poor man, and said, "well, I am ready, are you?" She left, and
mounted her horse, following John on his.
They rode for a short time before they reached the outskirts of town, and she
followed him silently. They came to a halt in front of the shack house that
John lived in and Morgana quickly flew into action. Genieve was pale, and
Morgana knew that she was dying, but also knew that she could help. She
smiled
at Genieve, who reached for her. Morgana took her hand and placed it on her
chest. "You will be fine, my friend." Genieve only nodded, she knew the
powers of this witch.
It had been legend for years, the beautiful girl who lived in a shack and who
could see the future, heal, and curse people. No one had seen the power
of her
curse, but it was legendary, and the people figured that it went hand in hand
with the other powers. After all, she was a witch. She could do anything she
liked with her potions, rocks, and other utensils, at least that is what the
people thought. Genieve, although she was scared to see the witch close and
know that she depended upon her, was not so scared that she would deny the
help. She watched as the witch took a tile of luminescent stone out of her
bag, and a small wand of dark wood with a purple crystal mounted on the end
from her bag.
Morgana handed Genieve a tile engraved with a lightning bolt. "Hold this, and
concentrate upon it. Believe in it. This is your lifeforce, this is
what will
keep you alive." Morgana smiled at the woman, and could sense the fear
rolling
off of her. 'Don't worry, my friend,' Morgana thought. Morgana began to take
various herbs out of the pre-packed area of her bag and made an herbal tea.
She noticed that Genieve was concentrating hard on the tile, and that
the woman
had begun to gain some color to her face.
When Morgana was done with the tea, she handed it to Genieve. "Drink
this,"she
ordered, "it won't hurt you, it will help your body to heal the injured
parts."
With that, Morgana dropped to her knees beside the sick woman and layed her
hand on Genieve's head.
Morgana put her essence inside of Genieve's body, feeling the blood propel her
through the injured parts. AAAs she traveled, she muttered the
necessary words
to heal the badly injured kidney and liver. She could feel the energy within
the body, how low it was, and the nuancical boost it received every time
Genieve looked at the stone. Morgana suddenly ripped her hands off of
Genieve's head. "Put the cup down and just stare at the stone, concentrate on
it." Morgana replaced her hands and began again, this time realizing that the
woman was so scared of her that Genieve would do whatever was asked of her.
Morgana felt the energy boost, and used it to slowly heal the sick blood and
the infection. She leaned back and touched the dirt floor with her other hand
as she removed the one from Genieve's head. Morgana could feel the
energy flow
from her hand into the dirt, and she stood.
Genieve looked up at Morgana. Morgana's hair was straying from the clip which
held it in place, and the light behind her eyes was full and bright, so bright
that they seemed to glow green. She looked back at Genieve and said, "I know
you feel better, you can now sit up and finish the rest of that tea. When you
are done, you will be completely restored." Morgana took the tile from the
woman's hands and put it into her bag. She then turned and left, to find John
standing at the outside of the door and waiting for her.
"Your wife is now better. You should rest." Morgana had always been factual
and to the point.
"Morgana, I want to repay you, but I have so little. I will give you what I
have he began to remove a pouch from his cloak. Morgana simply held up her
hand.
"It does not take repayment, simply do not talk about what happened here
tonight." She mounted her horse, and without looking back, rode to her home.
She knew that she would be caught and somehow punished, but she could not let
the people of the land die without trying to save them, even if it was through
methods which they cursed. When she arrived at her house, she noticed the
difference in it. It was not something that she could describe, but it was a
difference as if it had been violated. It was no suprise to her when she was
ripped from her horse and told to come silently. Morgana only looked at the
three men and did what they said. They bound her hands and feet, and gagged
her. They blindfolded her also.
When the blindfold was removed, she was in a prison, her right foot
shackled to
the wall. She simply looked at the floor and knew what was going to happen
next. The lord of the area stood over her.
"Hello, my brother." She spoke the words simply. He struck her across the
face.
"You are a disgrace to our family, Morgana. You will be burned for your
crimes. It is the proper way for a witch and concubine of the devil to go."
Morgana rubbed her sore cheek. A small smile touched her lips. "Ah, yes,
William," she said, "You are the one who denounced our lord, the father. I
have not embraced the devil as you say that I have, but I know that it is
useless to try to convince you. You will make the largest mistake of your
life."
William shook his head. "No, I will be ridding the world of an abomination, a
flyspeck. You are nothing but a witch. Married to the devil. I will rid our
family of what has marred their name for years." With those words, he left.
Morgana sat on the floor of the jail for days without food. Her only
sustenance were the runes which she held in her pockets. She contemplated her
next move.
Within three days, everyone in the land knew of the witch burning that was to
occur, and there was a large gathering of chanting people in the courtyard in
front of the stake and highly piled wood near the castle of Greenewald.
It was
when the crowd was in a fury that the famous witch of Greenewald was escorted
out of her exile. John and Genieve stood among the chanting and furious
crowd.
Morgana walked with her head high, her gorgeous dark locks falling around her
shoulders. She noticed John, standing silently, as he reached out and touched
her. She smiled at him gently and shook her head as the guard pushed
him away.
She was tied to the stake in the courtyard. It was then that she began her
plan.
"All of the denizens of Greenwald, listen, and listen well. You call me a
witch, you call me the wife of the devil himself. The devil has no compassion
nor love, so why would his wife. Why when I have used everything in my power
to help you have you cursed me in your hearts. It is your crime, not mine,
which will live on in history. You are fools. The entirety of you. But you
have your exceptions. To my brother I leave this, a final token of my sibling
hood." She threw the small tile of the rune Feoh amongst the crowd. "My final
gift to him is the thing which he yearns for, immortality. As you live upon
the blood of these innocent people in the realm of the metaphorical, so you
shall in the physical realm. I call you Vampyr, Nos Feratu, the creature
within. You will feed upon their blood as physically now as you have in
past.
You will drink from them, you will be outcast by them as they recognize your
powers. You will live amongst the animals, the wolves. It is here that you
belong. I call you night dweller, I call you the snatcher of hope and life.
It is that which you and your family shall be from now until the end of
time as
our God sees it. It is through this that you will see the error of your
ways.
If the Lord chooses to cast me into hell for this, then so be it, but finally
the people will see you for what you are. Cum Haegl in Nos Feratum semper."
There came upon the land a great wind, and with those words she died
before the
fires were lit.
The people stood in silence. William began to scream as his skin began
to burn
off of his bones. He ran into his castle, his wife and son following
him. His
cousins walked silently, looking at Morgana as they went, and crying.
The year is 1994. William Greenewald looked at his son quietly.
From time to time, they look back. They see the mistakes they made. But now
it is never voiced, never spoken of. They simply are. They feel the guilt,
and now, when they can find a midnight mass, they go to pray. They pray for
Morgana Greenwald, that she is in heaven, that she was forgiven. Now
they feel
the guilt, and now they are alone, since Amanda, William's wife threw herself
into the fire meant for her sister in law.
William carries with him a pouch, which carries the runes of hematite from so
long ago. They burn his hands to hold them.
WIlliam sat down on a park bench for a moment and cried. "Morgana, please
forgive me. You were right where I was wrong. I see that now. Just please
forgive me and know I will be with you soon."
It was only a matter of minutes before a young lady passed the two men on the
windy road past the bench. She smiled at William. "Are you alright, sir?"
WIlliam nodded at her silently. "What is your name?" he asked.
"Hampson, sir, Debra Hampson. What's wrong, can I help?" she sat next to
William and put her arm around him.
"You look like my sister. Would you like to hear about her." Debra looked at
him with the eyes of Morgana, those deep green irises catching the light
behind
them as she studied him. "If you would like to tell me."
From there, William shared with her the story. "Take these, Debra
Hampson, and
remember." He handed her the pouch and waved to her as she walked to
her home.
When she got in, she tossed the pouch on the sofa next to her deck of tarot
cards and turned on the television. A news flash was broadcasting about a
large fire where two men were killed. The bodies were unable to be identified
because of a strange bone structure. The bones were not made of the same
chemicals that human bones were. It was only known that two creatures died in
the fire. The news flash also stated that the mysterious blood murders in the
city were over.
Debra stared at the television, and felt one part of her say, "Goodbye,
WIlliam...my sweet brother." She laughed at the absurdity and went to bed.