DISCLAIMER: no ownership at all.... okay so i did this one on a whim, it's been a pretty boring afternoon so.... a story was born. Random huh? Well i don't know if this is that good but if you guys disagree/agree i'd be happy to recieve ur reviews :} I haven't gotten many reviews in a while... i feel so neglected, talentless, and FORGOTTEN... :{... heh heh, see wat i did ther? heh heh... Anyways, enjoy.
Sylvia Weald: Forgotten
Sylvia wrung her hands desperately around the light, weaved basket she was holding. I'm not nervous she thought. I'm just… anxious. And this was true. Sylvia was anxious at the task ahead of her, it was nearly impossible, even for a witch, to find the right kinds of herbs and incense to make this particular curse and so little time. Nearly impossible, but not quite.
Not if you were a Harman.
And that's what Sylvia was, a Harman. At least, that's what she should be. If those brainless witches would only make an exception. It was her right to be a Harman, it was in her lineage. The only problem was that her father was the Harman. And what was so wrong with that anyway? It was still in her blood, she was still one of the most powerful—
Yes. That was it. Sylvia was powerful, and she'd prove it too. Only the most bravest and daring witches would attempt this curse, and only the most resourceful could get the ingredients. It was a charm so ancient and wicked even Circle Midnight witches would hesitate. And as for the ingredients, Sylvia had already explored the most secluded valleys and meadows of the Black Kingdom and she finally found her supplies, she just had to collect and combine them.
The oil lamp beside her flickered, turning the once still shadows of the night to dancing stygian forms. If she wasn't used to it, Sylvia would've been terrified. But she wasn't, she's been living here for the past five years. Ever since she ran away from her family at age fourteen that is. She was drawn to the ominous mountain pass and the rest is, how the humans say, history.
Thinking of her long-forgotten family ran a chill down Sylvia's spine. She was forgotten there too. Her father had idiotically refused to acknowledge his powers and her magic-dud of a mom had refused to acknowledge her. Sylvia was surprised she managed living with them for fifteen minutes, let alone fifteen years.
So, to make her life-story short, she was abandoned, left out, and forgotten.
But she wouldn't be for long.
Sylvia bent down to gather her herbs. Spotted Hemlock was first on the list. It paralyzed the nervous system of a specific joint or muscle, depending on the incantation and oils she used with it. She shuffled over to the patch of flowers on her left, to a passer-by it would have looked like a normal bed of Queen Anne 's Lace, but Sylvia could differentiate a hundred and fifty one herbs from each other as easily as a human could differentiate a tiger from a lion. Let's see, three would be enough. Sylvia began to scavenge for the ripest stalk.
When the flowers were placed carefully in her weavened basket, Sylvia began to scourge for the next herb: lobelia. This one would help ease the tension in the nerves, to give the illusion of perfect health when otherwise the victim would writhe in agony. One, two, three, four, five. Sylvia absently counted and pressed the blue leaves in a perfect stack, and then she laid them beside the hemlock in her bushel and went to work with the final ingredient.
Sylvia's tattered bronze-green dress swerved in the breeze. It was tattered form the thorns and crevices she had to go through to get to this specific field. Everything she did, everything she was about to do, was in sake for her revenge against those callous witches. She wasn't one of them anymore, Sylvia was in league with the one and only Hunter Redfern. She didn't need those callous witches to know that she had what it took to be a Harman; those witches wouldn't know what was coming when the Apocalypse started.
Hmm… belladonna berries would do well. And they would go great with the others too. As she gathered the blackened berries Sylvia made a mental check of everything she's gathered. So there's hemlock for its paralyzing after-effect, lobelia for its false numbing astringent, and toxic belladonna berries for hallucinations and delirium. Perfect.
The dimming lights of the castle far-away were the only indication of time Sylvia had. She had to get back to the castle before Delos suspects her, or worse, if Hunter suspected her. He almost executed her when she told him about Miles, and she very nearly died when she mentioned the witch she had lost. Her bruises were still sore from the beating she took. But that was silly, wasn't it? Sylvia already knew who she was loyal too, and surley it wasn't with the witches. It didn't matter that she had loved a human, she would still aid in their destruction. It also didn't matter that she had hesitated in this spell, it was only because of the danger for her well-being that she did, honestly. Sylvia didn't care for the world at all, not for a world where she was abused and forgotten.
Sylvia made her way back to the castle, heading for the clean-cut path that separates this grassland from the unruly earth that was the forest. Now all she had to do was head back to her room, where the appropriate supplies for the spell were waiting. She'd have to press the leaves against the mushed chunks of the berries, and then she'll pour Hekate's sacred oil, added with a pinch of tobacco and saffron to prove its menacing worth of course, it is meant to be a deadly hex after all. A hex that'll stun any limb she chooses. Delos will never use his "blue fire" again and Hunter will make Sylvia the most world-renowned witch in the world.
So.... and then what?
Her steps slowed to a stop. Why was she thinking about these things now anyway? Did she plan on going back on her word? No, of course not. It was far too late for that anyway, and of course she didn't want to… right? Hunter said that he'll make her all-powerful, he said that she'll never be left-out again, and, as a bonus, he promised her revenge against all the witches that has wronged her. So why was she so unsure?
Weakness. Sylvia thought. Her thirst for revenge was back, and her decision was made. Hesitation is weakness. And she couldn't afford to be weak, not now, not when she was already this deep. She was going to help with the destruction of the human world, no matter what. Her steps gathered force, the castle lights were already looming ahead and Hunter will be waiting. Sylvia's resolve didn't waver an inch.
The castle seemed to get bigger, leading Sylvia to the dark uncertanties of the future. But whatever happens she'll be ready for it, even if it costs her her life.
And no matter what, Sylvia Weald will never be forgotten again.
After Note: not much to say... REVIEW!!!! i'm feeling as forgotten as Sylvia. :{ o and u could go check out my other story as well "Night World Origins" thank you. :]
