Chapter One: Morrigan
I was walking down the stairway of the cathedral, down to the basement to retire for the night where a large nest of others like me sleep so our magic doesn't harm the others around us, when I felt it. The familiar and unearthly chill.
Wyatt's voice was like winter's breath on my neck, cold and sinister, as he materialized behind me and took my hands to place them behind them behind my back.
The action was made to be sure I wouldn't hit him. But we both knew I wouldn't...Even if my arms weren't taken, his magical influence alone was enough to paralyze me. Damn my inferior magic, I thought, why do you suffer under his? Stand up from under him, damnit, do not surrender!
His hands began to caress upwards and stopped mid-elbow as if hesitant and then began to slide down. "Ducan..."
I cursed my inferior magic as Wyatt's grip tightened then relaxed. "Ducan," he began again and I forced myself not to relax at his voice. I forced myself to remain steady and stiff. As long as I was stiff, my magic could remain at a decent aura to let him know of my unease without my body outright saying it and making me into a coward.
"Either relax or I shall force you to do so against your will."
I stiffened again, this time in real fear, and it was my undoing. I could more feel him grin than see it, as the intensity of his magic's influence rose to choking levels and then forced itself upon me.
I choked my breath and then just as I fought to keep my eyes open, under the mind-numbing but searing pain, when his arms snaked around my waist and I could feel his sharp-toothed grin at my neck as he chuckled. "You asked for this, you refused to follow orders."
I tried my upmost to glare at the wall in favor of seeing Wyatt's pale ice-like eyes. I felt the air grow colder as his magic continued to force itself on me. I bit my lip, careful of my acute teeth as my magic growled. It didn't like to be suppressed and under him, it was livid.
Taking a great bite of courage, I conjured up my magic into a tight ball and, knowing the consequences would be dire should I fail, I threw myself forward and kicked him backwards the necessary two feet to withstand the backslash I knew would be coming.
This was going to hurt...
Wyatt's grin was all too smug as he caught my booted foot to my dismay and didn't allow me the needed distance. I inwardly cursed his faster reflexes as his hand began to run up my calf. His silver hair lifted in an unseen breeze as his eyes grew brighter and whiter ad his pale skin grew even paler as his magic continued to dominate the room.
Not for long, my magic insisted and right as Wyatt cocked his head to smirk, I shut my eyes, the cursed marking over my eyes coming on fire as my eye color shifted to a unearthly luminescent green.
Then I threw it: the fiery ball of black and cerulean flames.
Wyatt blinked, seeing how I had delivered such a powerful blast of magic in such a tight space and with us so close together, he tugged my leg harder as the blast flew forward--only to throw us both forward.
My breath caught as I saw my magic, all of its lethality avoided on us both, as it exploded into tiny bits of color against the stone wall and left a nasty black smear across the wall.
No! My magic cried within me as I found myself being thrown backwards and into the long flight of stairs behind me. But just I threw out my hand, my magic swirling about to create a hasty cloud to catch me, a swift cold breeze wound itself snug around me and swept me from harm.
I gaped as it delivered me back to safety and then swirled about lazily and then just fell to the ground and sputtered out. That isn't good, I thought and I could hear my magic agree. Magic doesn't sputter. It only explodes or is retracted back into its wielder's nestle to wait for its next opportunity.
My nose caught the scent of blood and I looked up from the vanished magic to see Wyatt, leaning against the farthest wall, eyes squeezed shut as blood poured forth from the corners of his mouth and sweat beaded along his brow.
His whole shoulder was red, his white collared sweater quickly becoming red and his black scarf actually starting to shift to even darker shade. The silver blessed cross he wore flashed gold and black as I walked up to him in horror. It was sensing my magic on Wyatt's wound and was warning me to stay away as black and gold sparks began to surround him to keep me from him.
His curse is creating a barrier to keep me away? I looked at Wyatt's wound and listened to his rapid breath of anguish. I hadn't meant for that much magic...
I tried to pull my magic from within me but it growled and snapped at my mental grasp. It wouldn't allow me to help. It was denying me?
I frowned, and tried again and this time with much more demanded force. My magic snapped but I gained a hold and a small wisp of black appeared to swirl about in my hand. I made my way closer and I saw Wyatt open his once-pale eyes to reveal their complete grey color. No white whatsoever and the sight unnerved me.
Wyatt wasn't like me, he could remember all of his memories and he didn't have scars like I did. He was born a Fate, Winter as if it wasn't obvious, but rather than use it for good, and he had joined with or employer centuries ago before my supposed birth.
When I had come along, he seemed eager to have me within his district and at first he seemed like any other attentive overseer as I climbed up the ladder. But then I became a representative of my own district...
Now we get where we were now.
For some reason, I found him infuriating and my magic was nearly always either ineffective around him or worse, I wasn't able to feel it at all. That was scariest and upon my asking, the director and employer said it was because Wyatt was a Fate and his magical influence outweighed my own. He told em to get over it and get out of his office.
I had but just to prove him wrong, I had challenged Wyatt while we were alone. And though it stings my tongue, although I tried to fight, I lost pathetically in the end. While I recovered, Wyatt kept looking over me, at the web of scars I don't remember getting and knowing something as his face would darken...
I think I blinked because suddenly I was engulfed in black adn a memory of anger flickered in the back of my mind. I was confused. Why was I angry...?
"Ducan?"
Wyatt's voice snapped me back to the present and I realized my hand was bleeding. I gasped and pulled my hand from the cross's dark barrier, it was black now, from my blood most likely, and hissing violently.
"Ducan," Wyatt growled and I looked at his face as he wiped his mouth. His eyes looked better but his shoulder remained red and still growing. He glared. "Don't do that, someone might get seriously hurt."
My ire piqued. "I thought you were dying!" I shouted, and then glanced at my bloodied hand. "Why is my hand bleeding?"
He rolled his eyes and then glared at me. The barrier shivered and then was sucked back to the cross as he stood. And walked away, never bothering to answer my question.
"Hey!" I called after him, "I asked a damn quest--"
Wyatt glared at me from over his wounded shoulder, "Bite your tongue, Morrigan." I blinked, what had he just called me? Why did his voice suddenly sound so alien on his tongue, his British accent gone? "It would do you well."
With a swirl of frost, he was gone, and I was alone on the stairway.
I blinked and the memory of anger came back but this time I saw me:
I was somewhere dark and afraid, afraid yet angry. Very angry. I could hear thumps and screams and loud explosions but I remained still. I thought I heard that name 'Morrigan' called but then--
"Ducan!"
I blinked again and myself lying on the ground, Wyatt looking at me, pale eyes worried. "Are you quite alright? I saved you from the stairs but I believe you expelled too much magic when you attempted to strike me and--"
I blinked, "Wait! You're unharmed!" I looked at him, even took a careful sniff. There was not a scent of blood on him anywhere...
But he..
"Harmed?" He frowned, "Why would I be harmed, your spell hit you, Ducan."
I blinked. What?
Wyatt frowned, "Don't you remember? Look at your shoulder, it's a mess..." I did as he said and my breath caught as I saw the magical frost wrapping holding back untold amounts of blood form outpouring onto the ground. My shoulder was injured...
But I knew I saw his...
I looked up, I was sitting against the wall. But how? I thought and then with a start, I reached within myself for my magic and for a split second my mental grasp found nothing but air. Just as fear was beginning to eat me alive, my magic snatched my hand as if desperate and I saw a face.
It was me again...
Intense fear, I was so afraid. Fire was all around me and I coughed, as my hand went out blindly to find something to hold me up as my knees wavered. But against my will, something shoved me from behind and I heard an angry chanting outside barely muffled by whatever wall was keeping us apart.
Something fell on, hot and burning and heavy, and I screamed--
"Ducan! Calm down, relax, stop, please stop!" I felt a cool breeze caress my face and my eyes sprang open. I was now surrounded by people and fear pounced on me like in that memory. I made to spring back but my shoulder came alive with fire and I choked on my breath a cool hand was placed on it.
It pressed firmly and I cracked my eyes open to see a white-haired man, staring at me intently as if I was something he couldn't figure out.
"Who are you...?" i asked and his pale eyes widened. "Ducan?" he asked and my face contorted in disgust. Ducan? Who the bloody trivial Hell was Ducan?
"My name," I snarled, "is Morrigan." I reached within myself and pointed at him with a considerable amount of magic. "Do not forget it." I glared at his hand, still touching me, still touching my bare shoulder. I wanted to bite it off. "And get your filthy hands off of me!"
My magic crackled a warning and he forwned, "Ducan?"
I finally snapped, my patience worn to frazzled strips. "My name is bloody Morrigan!" I screamed and my hand swung back only to swing back to slap him across his face. It never touched him however as he held my arm in a tight grip, now glaring at me.
"Ducan, I shall ask you to calm down one last ti--" I cut him off and snarled, magic building up and then upon a finger's flick igniting to explode behind his ear and knocking him backwards a few feet.
"I told you," I snarled as I made my way to get up. "My name is Morrigan." I glanced at myself, seeing myself in unfamiliar black leather pants and gold chains connecting to seemingly random places with a skimpy matching top that left my arms bare and useless black gloves with even more gold chains.
I huffed and snapped, a dark V-neck dress with draping sleeves and small dark fingerless gloves. I sneered as the white-haired man picked himself up from the rubble. I outstretched my hands, black and cerulean magic coming to my fingertips eagerly as he glared at me. He wiped dust from his hair and started, "Ducan, that's wasn't very nice. I could have been--"
"You wanker, my name is Morrigan!" Another blastof magic adn I saw his eyes widen as he finally assessed the situation. I saw him vanishin a swirl of snow and then he was beside me, holding my hands again as if he knew me.
"Ducan, what is the matter? Do you have a fever?" I saw him mean to lean in and I met his head with my own in a hard bash. He growled and tried to cast me aside in anger as he rubbed what could only be a sore spot.
"Ducan..." he growled warningly and I scowled, "My name is bloody well damned Morrigan!"
With a final swing, the floor and the walls were ripped up with my magic and he blinked. He obviously hadn't been expecting that. I grinned as I held my hands up.
"My name," I began with a smirk. "Is Morrigan," I said as I glared, "And do not ever forget it, you ugly albino wanker."
With that, I threw all that my magic and collected at him.
~I have never been more satisfied to see a man die by own hands~