Hey everyone! This is a story I started working on a little while ago. I've gotten a decent bit of the way into it, but thought I may be more inclined to finish it if I started uploading it as I was going. Anyways, I'l try to update this regularly until it's done, but no promises.
-Mello 3
Chapter 1-
"We must speak."
Morgana inhaled deeply, irritated. Had she been unable to feel the air around her pulse with dark energy when her uninvited guest arrived, the seething command likely would have startled her. On a typical evening, the small garden behind her quaint home would be empty and quiet, save the slight noises emanating from the native fauna and the scent that came from the surrounding plant life, sweet and subtle. Not now though. Even without opening her eyes she knew the air was thick enough to slice with a blade, all white noise muted as though the dense atmosphere was shoving it down into the soil.
The purple-haired woman nonchalantly cracked an eye open, not particularly threatened by the voice. Or voices? She couldn't really tell. All she could discern was that someone was not in a cheerful mood. The realization that her surroundings were literally covered in a heavy blue-green fog surprised her a bit, and she quickly forced her vision to adjust. Morgana sat up in her hammock as her gaze settled upon the source of the intrusion.
"Do we now?" the seated woman responded flatly, her voice laced with the remnants of sleep after being abruptly awoken. She stretched her deep-violet, nearly colorless wings out behind her as she tried to process what exactly she was looking at. A tall, thin woman stood in the center of her clearing, a sickly turquoise glow crackling from her translucent blue skin. Long, sleek, black hair streamed out from where it was held beneath her decorated headpiece, and it seemed to flow in a wind that wasn't present. Archaic, copper tinted armor adorned her emaciated figure, but more notable were the numerous gouges spread across her breastplate, each one fitted with a ghastly ornate spear.
The apparition's gleaming teal eyes narrowed. "Tell us," the woman's many voices echoed out accusatively, "how might one soul harbor so much resentment, pain, yet do nothing about it?"
"Excuse me, but my soul is no one's business save my own," the fallen angel responded tersely. She stepped down into the cool grass, confidently pacing step after step towards her offender until she remained only an arm's length from the being. The chill that radiated from the spirit was unnatural and pierced rather quickly through her flesh, but that wasn't going to prevent her from haughtily standing her ground.
"It becomes our business when you interfere with our work."
Morgana rolled her shimmering violet eyes, a small smirk played across her lips. "And how exactly might I be doing that?"
"Of that we are not sure. Such is why we are here. We cannot discern the nature of your troubles, only that your hurt resonates so loudly in our thoughts that you have managed to drown out the pleas of the betrayed. How?" The icy blue gaze never pulled from her own, the penetrating feeling becoming slightly unsettling.
Knowing this was getting her nowhere, again Morgana breathed deeply, with much more focus than the last. She steeled herself for what would come next. Instead of a response she quickly let forth magical, illusionary chains, temporarily linking herself with the other as she plummeted hard within the mind of the specter before her.
~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~
It was madness. Utter chaos. There was no better way to describe it.
After Morgana had decided to leave her complicated celestial life behind, she began to better understand what went on within the minds of mortals. But this… this was something else entirely. She was certainly not in the mind of a single being, but a mental prison, filled to the brim with captured, anguished souls. Within each metaphoric cell drifted a one-track-mind entity of hate or anger or disgust, whichever emotion drove them as their lives ended.
She felt a slight pull, as though she was being guided through the void by some unseen force. Farther and farther she sank into the darkness until she hit what felt like bottom. Her innate affinity for the dark was the only thing keeping her from panic, anyone else likely would have suffocated beneath the confining blackness.
A short, ornate pillar appeared in the center of the abyss, and it called to her. The mage knew the feeling well, as an ailing aura of betrayal and hatred rolled in waves from a roughly carved, golden crystal that floated above the pedestal. It took but a brush of her fingertips across the gleaming stone for the memories to come pouring out, filling the emptiness around her with illustrations of what she assumed to be this woman's past. Within the images she found a loyal, dedicated soldier. A pure soul who wanted nothing more than protect those close to her.
But none of this explains how she became…that, she mumbled internally as she absorbed the recalled fragments that surrounded her. There must be something else. Her gaze fell upon a projection which replayed crystal clear, unlike some of the hazier bits of memories she'd come across so far.
~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~
A battle hardened, beautiful woman strode proudly across the shoreline, her black tresses dancing in the ocean's breeze, a single ship rocking on the nearby waves. The mist that spun off the choppy water caught the sun's rays, bathing the entirety of the seaside in a warm, yellow light. The bronze hue of her head and chest pieces gleamed as she held her head high.
Behind her followed a small infantry of men and women, all dressed in similar, slightly less decorative armor than her. Flanking them were a few men of cavalry and heading them stood an intimidatingly built man whose head was wreathed with a sleek gem inlaid crown. A lifeless body was cradled within his arms as they approached the elegant looking individuals waiting for them at the foot of a massive, intricately carved marble gate.
"I demand your cooperation! My wife, she must be helped," the nobleman pleaded commandingly.
"We cannot reverse death, for it is not our place."
A few moments of silence passed. The tension so thick it was nearly visible.
"You will bring her back or you will be cut down! All of you!" the man hissed out through gritted teeth, his entire figure shaking with rage.
The guard at the front of the group was clearly shaken as he tried to formulate a response gentle enough to quell the man's anger. "I-I'm sorry, but as we've said there's n-nothing that can be done for her now."
"Kalista," his order was clear and brief, "kill them all."
"W-wait, what?" the head woman choked defensively, not expecting such a morbid request. "I cannot... w-will not. They are innocent people, they have families! They do not deserve this."
"SILENCE," the man's order boomed. "Hecarim, it seems my niece is no longer worthy of her duties. End her, then them."
Before the woman even had the opportunity to protest, a wicked smile spread across the jaw of one of the horse riders, as though he knew this moment would one day come. He instantly drew his spear and without a drop of hesitation, drove it through her chest.
She tried vehemently to scream, but all that came out were a few forced choking sounds, accompanied by a thick trail of crimson. All her pride could not keep her on her feet, and she dropped to her knees upon the white stone terrace, helpless as streams of tears cascaded down her pale cheeks. Following a quick nod from the assailant, the remaining soldiers drew spears and repeated the process, one after another adding to the growing mass, all while the native men were brutally massacred. Finally, she collapsed, blood emptying out of her lifeless body into a pool beneath her, the pain never leaving her crystal blue irises, before everything went black.
~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~
"Hmm, well that certainly was something," Morgana stated after she opened her eyes to face the ghoulish woman once again, already in the process of grounding herself back in reality. She had heard tales of this being but was never one to put much weight into such stories.
"What was that?!" the ethereal woman bellowed. "You think you may just toy with us in such a ma-"
The purple-haired woman cut her off, her wispy lavender glare attempting to match that of the other. "Lady of Vengeance, you must believe me when I say that I highly doubt my curiosity would have been sated unless I found answers to those questions myself. Now, why are you here? I've not requested your… well… services," her eyes squinted a bit to give the simple word the weight it deserved, "which if I understand it, is typically required to be graced with your presence?"
"As we mentioned previously, you are far too deafening. Our summons cannot be heard over whatever it is that ravages your conscience," the spirit hissed, her frustration becoming apparent. "All you need do is speak the oath, mortal, and your troubles dissipate."
Despite her best efforts, Morgana couldn't stop the laughter that burst from her chest. "HA. I'm flattered, but no. Mortality, as much as I'd prefer it, is not within my reach. The angry black wings or glowing purple eyeballs didn't tip you off?" she chuckled sarcastically as she gestured to the massive feathered limbs behind her.
"Perhaps we must have been too distracted by our situation to have had considered that." The creature broke eye contact for the first time since she arrived, her bare feet beginning to walk her in circles around the garden. She gently removed one of the spectral spears from her torso and began to twirl it mindlessly, occasionally giving a practice thrust here and there. The display could almost be interpreted as playful had Morgana known nothing about the woman's past. "Still," she hummed as she paced, "your soul yearns for revenge. Allow us to ease your pain."
"Oh, Kalista… and to be clear I do mean the thousand-angry-souls Kalista, not the pure-souled, pre-curse Kalista you've seemingly repressed, no offense. I don't trust that we walk the same path when it comes to retribution," the winged woman responded softly as she twirled her fingers around the stem of a magenta colored rose from a nearby bush and plucked it. "You see, I love this world and those who walk it, believe it or not. And as we both know, sometimes those people act in immoral ways. This is the nature of humans. But do they not deserve a chance to atone, to have their actions understood?"
"No." The response was instant, absolute, and if the mage was being honest, a bit intimidating. "They were given their chance when given life. To act immorally towards others is to relinquish that privilege. Have you no such wish towards those who tainted your livelihood? Stole from you your sanity?"
"I wish many things upon them, but death is not one."
"We see," the black-haired woman responded simply, taking a minute to ponder. "However, unfortunately for you, we shall remain until your dissonance has been resolved, as there is no place for us before then. Given time, even you may yet accept the pact."
Morgana chuckled, quickly dismissing her comment about the oath. I could use a distraction, she considered. It has been quite some time since I brought a wayward soul back from the brink of insanity, and this one seems more than worthy of redemption.
"I welcome your company," the fallen angel declared with a smile. "And perhaps, given time, you may yet find an opportunity to see what a tormented soul can become with a bit of rehabilitation."