❝We both know I don't belong here, we've just been too scared to admit it.❞
Rowena, having grown sick and tired of her bastard son always having the upper hand, decides to resurrect his long dead wife as means of revenge. Only it doesn't go to plan...
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Rowena MacLeod stood, looming over a table covered in various herbs, spices, mixing bowls and spell books, her hands raised above the single, largest mixing bowl as low chants in an unknown language tumbled from her lips. Outside, the wind stirred briefly and the sky developed a grey-ish tinge; an indicator of the storm to come. Rowena's eyes fluttered open and closed as she worked her way through the spell. She wanted – no, needed – it to go perfectly. She was sick and tired of her good for nothing son always have the upper hand... always finding a way to hurt her. Now, it was her turn to get back at him.
The small ring, covered in a mixture of herbs and spices and even a few drops of Rowena's crimson blood, sat snugly in the largest mixing bowl. It was truly beautiful, considering when it had been crafted. It had taken Rowena almost a year to find the damned thing and after searching high and low she had located it in a museum just outside Canisbay, Scotland. The last place she would have looked.
Rowena splayed her fingers and quickened the pace at which she was chanting. The words were no longer mumbled lowly, but now they were shouted fervently. Black had covered the sky and the rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightening had begun. Snatching up the final ingredient in a hand, Rowena threw it into the bowl the same moment a large clap of lightening sounded, the large strike dancing brightly in the otherwise dark sky. Rowena's eyes flew open and she peered at the ring closely, waiting, willing, for something to happen. Rain had begun to pelt against the windows of the building she was currently residing in, sounding like a marching band a hundred strong, and a strong draft blew into the room from an unknown direction.
"You have got to be kidding me." She hissed to herself in agitation after nothing had happened for a few moments.
Suddenly, a violent clap of thunder sounded directly above her and a bright strike tore its way through the ceiling and struck the ground only a few meters away from her. Rowena let out a shriek and threw her hands up in defence as she stumbled backwards, narrowly dodging flying pieces of splintered wood. The strong smell of it burning filled the room and Rowena looked through her fingers at where the lightening had struck, her mouth falling open she saw what was before her. She let out a cackle of surprised delight, lowering her hands and placing them on her hips as she raised an eyebrow.
It had worked.
In the exact spot where the lightening had struck, there was now a naked woman standing. Her dark hair cascaded around her shoulders and she was looking at Rowena with a combination of confusion and fear. Rowena marveled at how beautiful the woman before her was – high cheek bones, plump lips, dazzling eyes – and then at how stupid she could have been to have married such a vile monster.
"What... where am I?" The woman spoke, her voice scratchy and strained after not speaking for so long. Nevertheless, Rowena could just make out the faintest Scottish accent and smirked to herself – it was definitely her. The woman brought a slender hand up to her throat and rubbed, looking troubled as she waited for Rowena's response. She didn't seem fazed by her nakedness, for she hadn't noticed yet.
"It's more of a when and not a where, but I'll get to that soon." Rowena cooed, quickly making her way around the table and towards the woman, snatching up her coat that was lying discarded on a chair as she did so. She wrapped the coat around the woman's shoulders, ignoring her flummoxed expression. The woman pushed her arms through the sleeves and pulled it tightly around her. Loose tendrils of dark hair framed her face and she brushed them aside nimbly.
"What are you talking about?" The woman questioned, her thin brows knotting together. "Why am I here?"
"I'll tell you everything shortly, dear." Rowena promised, patting her hands against the woman's shoulders soothingly. Rowena's eyes shone with a triumph that the woman didn't know if she liked or not. "But first, I need you to tell me one very important detail. Tell me, what's your name, dear?"
The question hung in the air for a few moments as the woman pondered silently. Rowena stood patiently; her mind was destined to be the teeniest bit jumbled. She did, after all, just come back from being dead for almost three hundred years. There was a small frown on the woman's features until she remembered and visibly relaxed. It was something that she knew.
"Catriona..." The woman began and Rowena began to nod vigorously, her curls the colour of fire bouncing with just as much energy. "Catriona MacLeod."
