UNDER YOUR SPELL
--Dancing With Lightning
A/N: MWAHAHAHA!! This is the chapter the story's named after! *Hears someone say 'duh!' in the back row. Waves a hand and lightning strikes them, reducing the nasty audience member to dust* This is the absolute, most important two chapters of the story, this being part one, the other part two. I've actually never done this before, so *gives thumbs-up and smiles stupidly* wish me luck!! *Kisses and bows* Just a small note: A reviewer (Dream Seeker) noted that in the second or the first book that Wiccans don't believe in Satan, therefore, there is no heaven or hell. That may be, but only Wiccans don't believe in the divine worlds, so who's to say they don't exist? The point I'm trying to get across is the fact that Morgan's done so much, so many good things (as has Maeve) that don't you think they deserve to live in heaven? Just because Wiccans don't believe in them doesn't mean they don't exist. Thanks for the little reminder, Dream Seeker. I was wondering if someone was going to pick that up. Also, just for Dream Seeker, this is set about three-quarters of the way through Eclipse, when Alisa's fighting the Dark Wave for the first time. I thought I mentioned that in my former A/N, but apparently not. Hardly anybody reads this anyway... *sighs*
Special thankyou, thankyou, thankyous to:
Dream Seeker x3- No-one's reviewed my stories more than once! Thanks a bunch!!
In_awe_of_you (IOW, my friend Claire)- Thankyou for checking this site. It made me feel so special that you actually took the time to look. Luv ya!!
Princess Elspeth- I've already thanked you thousands, millions of times, but don't ya think it's a bit biased, you reviewing my stories?? You should spend your time reading others; you know I'd just send them to you when I've written them anywayz!! Oh well, luv ya anyway.
Thankyou again to all who reviewed, and please, review again! I really hope you guys like this story, and where it's heading!
--Dancing With Lightning
Under Your Spell- Part 1
Two years had passed since Morgan's death, and the Rowlands' had moved on. Mary K, at sixteen, was driving Das Boot to school everyday, as a symbol of remembrance for her sister. Mary Grace always wore her daughter's watch, so she'd have a memory of her daughter. And Sean always wore a cap of his daughter's, every weekend, every day.
Maybe they weren't as over it as they said they were.
Exactly on the day of the second year Morgan died, Mary K, Mary Grace and Sean all went to the cemetery to pay their respects. The Rowlands family had lived in Widow's Vale since Sean's Great-Grandmother came, so their family actually had a crypt, where it held stone coffins. Morgan was placed between Sean's brother and her cousin, who had died in a car accident when Morgan was four. That place was meant for Sean when he died, but instead, his daughter took it.
As they were leaving, Bree and Robbie appeared, walking into the crypt and both kneeling on either side of the coffin, whispering to Morgan's spirit which had so happily visited them two years before. At twenty years of age, Bree and Robbie had recently married, and Bree was two months pregnant with their daughters. They were both done with Wicca.
Alisa sat at home, studying for her junior exams, as they were coming up faster than expected. No more Wiccan circles and rites for Alisa, either.
In other words, Kithic had disbanded right after they spoke to Morgan, because they didn't have a leader. Hunter had gone to England with his Da, and they both lived there with Alwyn, Sky and Hunter's Aunt and Uncle.
ï¾
Another three years had passed, Morgan realised as she walked through the white corridors. Five years since she died, in mortal time, anyway. In the divine time, only a month had passed, one month in the divine, but five years on Earth. As she walked towards the portal to cross into the mortal realms as a guardian, she realised she'd never asked where heaven was. It wasn't on Earth, she knew that. But where was it?
Morgan frowned. Why wasn't the portal letting her through? She had to do her job.
"Angel!!"
The black-haired angel appeared next to her, and slipped a white sheet of paper into the portal. It opened, and Morgan stepped through with a word of thanks.
She'd been watching her sister for a year and a half, making sure she was safe. In the first week, Morgan had tried to talk to her sister, but she was invisible to mortals, annoyingly. So she settled to just watch her closely.
IN AN UNKNOWN COUNTRY, AN UNKNOWN DANGER AWAITS...
Someone's face, half-hidden in shadow smiled. It was impossible whether it was a man or a woman, because the voice they spoke in was unearthly, nothing no-one would ever dream of. People around the leader were chanting, their bodies covered in dark, brown- black cloaks, which covered their heads also. Everyone was unrecognisable.
"Anach, got rah," s/he murmured. The rest copied their leader. "Beth, nil rah... morae do toasha, mad da gatto brud da."
Everyone repeated s/he, all knowing what was happening. A girl next to the leader started crying, and she screamed, the magick tearing from her body. Another girl, one across the circle also screamed, her magick tearing her up as it raced out of her and into the leader. S/he whispered a few more words, unknown to any person, and the magick from both him and the girls flew into the middle of the circle, spinning like a tornado. S/he yelled four more words:
"LET HER BE ALIVE!!!!!!"
ï¾
Morgan returned from her mortal day, feeling sick and tired.
Just exhaustion, she told herself. Returning to her mother's and her rooms, she found Maeve sitting on her daughter's bed, sobbing.
Morgan raced over to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "What's the matter, Mama??"
Maeve looked at her daughter. "It's coming," she whispered. She flung her arms around her daughter's shoulders. "Everything's going to be okay, even though you feel sick. Everything's going to be fine."
"What are you talking about?" Morgan asked her mother.
"Do you feel sick?" Maeve suddenly asked, putting a hand to Morgan's forehead. She immediately withdrew it, gasping.
"I do feel sick," Morgan admitted. "But what has that got to do with the price of eggs?"
"Honey... you'll find out soon enough. Just go to bed."
Morgan climbed into bed, letting her mother sit next to her and stroke her hair for a couple of minutes. Abruptly, she felt a change of the air around her, she heard her mother crying, and then she lost consciousness.
Morgan was swimming in a sea of green, then a sea of yellow, the red, then colours she didn't know existed. She looked up at the orange sky and frowned. The sky wasn't orange. It was blue. And the sea was greeny-blue, not maroon. The sea opened up, and she fell, screaming, her white nightdress swirling around her. She felt closed in, boxed in. Everything was black, everything was close. It was stuffy and hot.
She wrenched her eyes open and tried to scream, but her voice box wasn't working. She lifted a hand up and saw rotting skin turning pink and fresh; she saw her fingernails growing, and felt her leg muscles tighten.
Morgan Rowlands was inside a stone coffin, clothed in a fully black outfit.
A/N: MWAHAHAHA!! This is the chapter the story's named after! *Hears someone say 'duh!' in the back row. Waves a hand and lightning strikes them, reducing the nasty audience member to dust* This is the absolute, most important two chapters of the story, this being part one, the other part two. I've actually never done this before, so *gives thumbs-up and smiles stupidly* wish me luck!! *Kisses and bows* Just a small note: A reviewer (Dream Seeker) noted that in the second or the first book that Wiccans don't believe in Satan, therefore, there is no heaven or hell. That may be, but only Wiccans don't believe in the divine worlds, so who's to say they don't exist? The point I'm trying to get across is the fact that Morgan's done so much, so many good things (as has Maeve) that don't you think they deserve to live in heaven? Just because Wiccans don't believe in them doesn't mean they don't exist. Thanks for the little reminder, Dream Seeker. I was wondering if someone was going to pick that up. Also, just for Dream Seeker, this is set about three-quarters of the way through Eclipse, when Alisa's fighting the Dark Wave for the first time. I thought I mentioned that in my former A/N, but apparently not. Hardly anybody reads this anyway... *sighs*
Special thankyou, thankyou, thankyous to:
Dream Seeker x3- No-one's reviewed my stories more than once! Thanks a bunch!!
In_awe_of_you (IOW, my friend Claire)- Thankyou for checking this site. It made me feel so special that you actually took the time to look. Luv ya!!
Princess Elspeth- I've already thanked you thousands, millions of times, but don't ya think it's a bit biased, you reviewing my stories?? You should spend your time reading others; you know I'd just send them to you when I've written them anywayz!! Oh well, luv ya anyway.
Thankyou again to all who reviewed, and please, review again! I really hope you guys like this story, and where it's heading!
--Dancing With Lightning
Under Your Spell- Part 1
Two years had passed since Morgan's death, and the Rowlands' had moved on. Mary K, at sixteen, was driving Das Boot to school everyday, as a symbol of remembrance for her sister. Mary Grace always wore her daughter's watch, so she'd have a memory of her daughter. And Sean always wore a cap of his daughter's, every weekend, every day.
Maybe they weren't as over it as they said they were.
Exactly on the day of the second year Morgan died, Mary K, Mary Grace and Sean all went to the cemetery to pay their respects. The Rowlands family had lived in Widow's Vale since Sean's Great-Grandmother came, so their family actually had a crypt, where it held stone coffins. Morgan was placed between Sean's brother and her cousin, who had died in a car accident when Morgan was four. That place was meant for Sean when he died, but instead, his daughter took it.
As they were leaving, Bree and Robbie appeared, walking into the crypt and both kneeling on either side of the coffin, whispering to Morgan's spirit which had so happily visited them two years before. At twenty years of age, Bree and Robbie had recently married, and Bree was two months pregnant with their daughters. They were both done with Wicca.
Alisa sat at home, studying for her junior exams, as they were coming up faster than expected. No more Wiccan circles and rites for Alisa, either.
In other words, Kithic had disbanded right after they spoke to Morgan, because they didn't have a leader. Hunter had gone to England with his Da, and they both lived there with Alwyn, Sky and Hunter's Aunt and Uncle.
ï¾
Another three years had passed, Morgan realised as she walked through the white corridors. Five years since she died, in mortal time, anyway. In the divine time, only a month had passed, one month in the divine, but five years on Earth. As she walked towards the portal to cross into the mortal realms as a guardian, she realised she'd never asked where heaven was. It wasn't on Earth, she knew that. But where was it?
Morgan frowned. Why wasn't the portal letting her through? She had to do her job.
"Angel!!"
The black-haired angel appeared next to her, and slipped a white sheet of paper into the portal. It opened, and Morgan stepped through with a word of thanks.
She'd been watching her sister for a year and a half, making sure she was safe. In the first week, Morgan had tried to talk to her sister, but she was invisible to mortals, annoyingly. So she settled to just watch her closely.
IN AN UNKNOWN COUNTRY, AN UNKNOWN DANGER AWAITS...
Someone's face, half-hidden in shadow smiled. It was impossible whether it was a man or a woman, because the voice they spoke in was unearthly, nothing no-one would ever dream of. People around the leader were chanting, their bodies covered in dark, brown- black cloaks, which covered their heads also. Everyone was unrecognisable.
"Anach, got rah," s/he murmured. The rest copied their leader. "Beth, nil rah... morae do toasha, mad da gatto brud da."
Everyone repeated s/he, all knowing what was happening. A girl next to the leader started crying, and she screamed, the magick tearing from her body. Another girl, one across the circle also screamed, her magick tearing her up as it raced out of her and into the leader. S/he whispered a few more words, unknown to any person, and the magick from both him and the girls flew into the middle of the circle, spinning like a tornado. S/he yelled four more words:
"LET HER BE ALIVE!!!!!!"
ï¾
Morgan returned from her mortal day, feeling sick and tired.
Just exhaustion, she told herself. Returning to her mother's and her rooms, she found Maeve sitting on her daughter's bed, sobbing.
Morgan raced over to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "What's the matter, Mama??"
Maeve looked at her daughter. "It's coming," she whispered. She flung her arms around her daughter's shoulders. "Everything's going to be okay, even though you feel sick. Everything's going to be fine."
"What are you talking about?" Morgan asked her mother.
"Do you feel sick?" Maeve suddenly asked, putting a hand to Morgan's forehead. She immediately withdrew it, gasping.
"I do feel sick," Morgan admitted. "But what has that got to do with the price of eggs?"
"Honey... you'll find out soon enough. Just go to bed."
Morgan climbed into bed, letting her mother sit next to her and stroke her hair for a couple of minutes. Abruptly, she felt a change of the air around her, she heard her mother crying, and then she lost consciousness.
Morgan was swimming in a sea of green, then a sea of yellow, the red, then colours she didn't know existed. She looked up at the orange sky and frowned. The sky wasn't orange. It was blue. And the sea was greeny-blue, not maroon. The sea opened up, and she fell, screaming, her white nightdress swirling around her. She felt closed in, boxed in. Everything was black, everything was close. It was stuffy and hot.
She wrenched her eyes open and tried to scream, but her voice box wasn't working. She lifted a hand up and saw rotting skin turning pink and fresh; she saw her fingernails growing, and felt her leg muscles tighten.
Morgan Rowlands was inside a stone coffin, clothed in a fully black outfit.