Victoria: Rosemary, Thyme, and Wolfenite
She fought to see the face of the figure with the flowing dark hair. The sword in the woman's hand glinted in the moonlight even though its blade was black as pitch. There was no face to be seen as Victoria fought through the brambles and thorns of the forest, only a deep stretch of shadows where the hair parted. The only thing distinguishable was those piercing green eyes.
Victoria crept closer. Shadows fought and grabbed at her ankles, and just when she thought she'd be consumed by them, she broke free with a cry. The girl's back turned to her now, but Victoria persisted. Right before she could reach out and touch her, something gripped Victoria's shoulder hard, sending shards of needles across her collarbone.
"Get away!" she screeched, flailing wildly. The thing's grip only tightened and spun her round. She gasped, unable even to scream. The guard Michael smiled at her, his teeth all black and charred like rotting wood. His eyes had lost all their pigment and stared blankly with milky white pupils so similar to her mother's it made her skin crawl. Blood dribbled from the corners of his mouth; his neck twisted at an odd angle. Half of his hair was shorn clean off, revealing peeled back skin and exposed bone. She wanted to vomit or scream or run or anything, but she couldn't move. Her feet felt as if they held lead.
"Come to the woods," Michael hissed, his breath hitting her in waves of decay. His crooked fingers snatched her wrist and pulled hard. She fell...
And woke sweating and panting. The sun was still low in the sky behind her curtains. She had not yelped as she had done last time, so still held anonymity. She was grateful Gemma had not rushed in again. The castle was quiet, still caught in the throes of night.
Victoria flung her blankets off and caught her reflection in the window by her bed. The woman who looked back shocked her: wild hair standing out at odd angles, green eyes bloodshot and fearful, gown twisted. She watched her mouth frown. Her eyes narrowed in determination. She went to the table by her bed and rummaged through the drawer until she found a candle. She held it up, flicking the wick nervously. Then she hurried over to her door, opened it as quietly as she could, and poked her head out into the stale air of the hallway. The dim glow from one of the candelabras lit her face. She went to it, held the candle's wick up to the flame, and waited. Soon, a thin flame engulfed the wick. Victoria cupped her hand over it and darted back to her room, shutting the door behind her without taking a breath. She sat the candle upon the table.
Turning from the flickering flame, she started for the opposite wall. A large purple tapestry shaded the object she sought. Victoria took a deep breath before gripping the drapery and flinging it off on the floor dramatically. Her breath had picked up, and she struggled to focus her eyes on the thick, black coated mirror that now stood uncovered before her. Her own reflection gleamed back at her in its long oval shape. The other Victoria was frowning as she was now. Then, she saw the image's face twist up into a smile. Victoria closed her eyes hurriedly, willing the image away. It was not herself she wished to scry, but Michael. She had to find out where he was and what had become of him. Did he exist now, bloodied and half dead, as he had in her dream? Both subjects: Michael and the girl with the black sword had intermingled, overlapping into one dream. That meant something important. It had to.
She spun and went to the candle, glad the weak flame still persisted. She picked it up and turned back to the mirror, careful to keep her eyes from the glass. She nearly tripped over the tapestry lying crumpled on the floor. The flame wavered, and she bit her tongue. Blood pooled in her mouth. She swallowed it.
"Damn it," she hissed lowly, using her free hand to raise her skirts up. She tiptoed over the tapestry and went to the back of the mirror. Already she could feel the air shifting. Magic was afoot. If she wanted to get this done alone and without Gemma, she needed to hurry. Her mother would be able to sense the change the procedure brought. She sat the candle down behind the mirror. Then, she stepped back toward the front. Her brows furrowed, and she concentrated on her reflection. The mirrored Victoria frowned at first, mimicking her features, then she smiled broadly again. She tilted her head and raised her brows.
"Out of the way," Victoria said impatiently, waving her hand for the reflection to subside. The other Victoria shrugged and spun around. "Out of the way damn you!" Her voice rose, and she covered her mouth. Her reflection stopped spinning and gazed at her with a bored expression. She sighed and retreated to the side, out of the glass. A whoosh of cold air flew from the mirror, grabbing at Victoria's hair. She closed her eyes again.
Relax. Breath. In. Out. In. Out.
She sensed the moon go behind the clouds. Or perhaps it had sunk, preparing for the sun's ascension. A low hum began to rumble from the mirror. It was time. She opened her eyes once more as calmly as she could. She stared into the dark glass, a depthless black void. There was no reflection that stared back at her. To someone less practiced, it would have been quite unsettling. It used to upset Victoria, but she was well-versed in scrying now. She had done this same ritual hundreds of times.
So why am I so anxious? Why does this feel so strange?
Ignoring the doubts in her head, she cleared her throat and began to recite the incantation to call forth who she wanted to see.
"Sun and stone, moon and glass
Allow this certain visage pass
Through fire, blood, bone, or steel
Show me who I want...
Reveal!"
Slowly, Victoria opened her eyes. At first, nothing happened. The mirror remained as black as a starless night. She remained calm, knowing these thing took time. She had impatiently jumped to conclusions before and interpreted the magic wrong. She held her breath. Her heart beat a thousand times a second, but she waited. She did not even move or blink.
"Michael Buckthrow," Victoria whispered hoarsely. She inched her fingers up to her neck and gripped her throat, eyes widening as the glass began to frost in a light grey smoke. Again, the air shifted, carrying a sad desperate note this time. It felt heavy, foggy almost. She felt constricted and smothered by it. The room did not seem big enough for her or her things. There did not seem to be enough air. She waited, focusing on the mirror, thrumming her fingers along her windpipe.
Something flickered through the haze in the glass. She focused on it, willing it forward. It was fighting to breath just as she was but like a drowning man, was finally pulled through to the water's surface. She gasped but there was hardly enough air to take such a big breath.
Michael's face appeared before her. The same, gaunt, bruised face from her dreams was in the mirror. The image cut off before she could see his crooked neck, and his eyes were closed. He could almost have been sleeping, but an unsettling heaviness had wormed its way into Victoria's gut. She knew he wasn't sleeping.
But how? How had it come to this? She thought of his words to her in her dream: "Come to the forest..." Should she go there now to seek answers? She wanted to go back, search through the trees and try to find him, but she was frightened. She didn't know if she could go alone. Lorik perhaps? Would he go back with her? So consumed was she by these troubling thoughts, so focused was she on Michael's cryptic words to her in her dream that it was quite a shock what happened next.
Michael's eyelids flew open suddenly, revealing glowing red orbs. She recognized them from the Shadow Wood. Her mouth flew open, and she shrieked shrilly. It did not sound natural coming from her lips. She certainly had never heard herself make that noise before. She stumbled away from the mirror, knocking over the table by her bed. She fell back onto her ruffled sheets, scrambling to get away.
Victoria couldn't take her eyes from his. They glowed ominously and blinked several times. Then, his mouth opened, revealing the same blackened ones from her dream. His mouth curved into a sinister smile. Her heart thumped so loudly she thought they could hear it all the way in Dunhelm.
Then, something shifted behind Michael. Two black antlers grew from the top of his head, more like shadows than the real thing. Victoria swallowed, trying to abate her panic and watch. She couldn't look away. His face began to shift and morph, a snout being drug down from his lips and chin. His ears grew longer and tilted upward, pricked and alerted.
"No," she whispered, slowly dragging herself off the bed and staggering closer. Michael's face began to shift and contort until it was covered in a shadowy mass. It was no longer his own face that stared back at her but that of the stag's. "It cannot be," she said breathlessly. Victoria inched closer, cursing her shaking ankles and twitching fingers. She bent without looking and snatched the tapestry on the floor. The Black Stag sneered at her, a knowing impish look passing over his cruel features.