CONTENT WARNING: blood, major character death with some graphic descriptions, discussion of conflict and murder, horror elements
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Since the last time I tried to write something old-fashioned-style in Divided someone complained it was clunky, the historical character's dialogue is written in modern style but is intended to not sound that way to the ear of the modern characters, hence people not always understanding what this person says.
Morgyn
It is one o'clock in the morning, and not a soul is around- not in the physical sense. This place, according to A Brief History of the Occult, is the former town of Withernham. As the years went on, the houses were demolished and turned into graveyard space.
The former Peteran monastery, and the former 'House of Friends' has been claimed by the past three-hundred years, covered entirely in ivy. There is a worn wolf statue outside of the boarded-up door dedicated to siblings Reynold and Clementia Morgan, with Reynold being considered one of the last living mooncasters. If my predictions are correct, then if I can Róisín back, it will mean a revival of the mooncasters after three centuries.
In the cemetery, I can sense the presence of the ghosts, wandering, walking through this world without aim. The ghosts are stubborn; they do not like to show themselves.
Wandering amongst the tombstones, weathered by centuries of rain and nature reclaiming the stone- I find the grave of Róisín between the graves of two former Eyes of Jacob, Julian Jourdain and Juniper Yarnold. Why would two Jacoban leaders be buried outside of a former Peteran monastery?
She is buried next to her father, Reynold, both graves marked with a wolf statue. Next to their graves is a metal plaque mourning the mooncasters. Someone has still been leaving fresh flowers here. I can hazard a guess as to who.
Before I do anything, I sit in silence in front of both of their graves and pay my respects to them.
The horror of it all...to be the last of your kind, to live in lifelong terror at the thought of your own extinction. To die in fire and flames for something that you did not choose. Even if magic were a choice as it can be now for ascended casters, it would not have changed how atrocious the murders were. Too many people, even in the modern day, will spill another's blood over such trivial reasons.
A simple Necrocall would usually raise a ghost from remains that have been dead for roughly twenty years or less. Given Róisín died many more years ago, I am having to perform the full ritual version of the spell. The components I have should be powerful enough to power both the Necrocall and Dedeathify spells - after all, most who perform Necrocall often follow it up with the other spell...
With the book by my side, I prepare the components.
A salt circle featuring the Sun and Moon.
A black and white candle.
A death flower - one for Necrocall, one for Dedeathify.
An angelfish, which I fished from the water by the greenhouse.
Lastly...a spellcaster's blood, placed in a goblet with some crystals. I make a cut in my palm which stings horrifically and drip my blood into the goblet.
There is a growing feeling of another presence, one trying to communicate with me. Perhaps it is entirely psychological, but I am a spellcaster; I know the truth behind the phenomena many consider to be myths or misunderstandings. It takes me a moment to clear my head of all fear and doubt. A spellcaster cannot fear the unknown; they embody the unknown.
I clear my throat for the verbal aspect of the ritual.
"Róisín Ó Sé, daughter of the great Áine Ó Sé, step through the veil into the realm of mortals! I, Morgyn Ember, beckon you to this world! Allow me to give you another chance at life!"
The blood expands in the goblet, filling it entirely and overflowing until it surrounds me in a sort of storm. I see a vaguely-humanoid translucent figure appear in front of me, starting off looking like a burned, screaming corpse and gaining more and more identifiable detail. Hair begins to flow and a dress appears over her body. My insides are set alight with magical power, my fingers and toes tingling to the point of numbness as the ghost materialises. The candles snuff out for a moment until the ghost appears to relight the wicks with just her finger.
One of the death flowers is reduced to naught but ash, and the blood returns to the goblet. The ghost looks around frantically, turning an orange hue. A bright fire burns within the translucence, and her void eyes gaze down upon me. It worked. By some miracle - no, by my confidence, intent and skill, it worked... The wolf statues look as if they are staring down onto me.
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Róisín. I am-"
"Morgyn Ember," she interrupts. "You are a student of my mother's, are you?"
"What? H-how do you know?"
"I watch over parts of Henford and Glimmerbrook and have done for many years." The way she speaks is a little old-fashioned and hard to follow. "I cannot see into the Magic Realm as it is not of this world, but I see people walk in and out of that portal day and night. And you... my mother seems to appreciate you. I saw her watch you draw. She seemed content in your presence."
But that wasn't Sage Ó Sé. That was...
No.
It makes sense. True witches can shapeshift, like she said. The wolf that was keeping an eye on me the whole time was...
"The wolf is your mother?!"
"Indeed. If my mother trusts you, Morgyn, then I am willing."
Goodness. So the Sage protected me from my parents - and that's why they got me the drawing supplies for my birthday. She did all of that for me. I just hope what I'm about to do is anything comparable to all she has done for me.
"Thank you, a. I apologise greatly for disturbing your rest. I wanted to give you-"
"Another chance at life."
The fire within her grows brighter, and the heat is making my forehead drip with sweat...or perhaps that's just the overcharge.
"What happened to you, and everyone else, Róisín, it was cruel, it was undeserved. I only know what I know because of the book your mother wrote on arcane history. I have no words powerful enough to tell you know I feel about it all, but I want you to have another chance at life, and I believe your mother would wish the same for you. You say you have never seen the Magic Realm. It is a wonderful place. If I can return you to life, then you will be able to marvel at your mother's creation for yourself."
She puts a hand to her chest, and the fire within her flickers.
"There is a stone in my pocket that will transport us back to the Magic Realm once I complete the spell."
"But - can you?" she asks. "Can you truly perform a spell so powerful? I have been dead for countless years."
"I can certainly try, and I am confident in my ability."
She puts her hand through my palm, and it burns as she does so.
"Your hand is shaking, Morgyn Ember."
"Not with fear. With anger. Anger at a past I am powerless to change. Things are considerably different now. Not perfect, but different. You deserve a chance in a world that will appreciate you. Do you accept my offer?"
She nods. "Morgyn Ember, I would be more than grateful to return to the mortal realm, and to see my mother again - but only if you are able."
"Very well. Prepare yourself, Róisín; it will take a great toll on you."
"Morgyn? We haven't seen you today. Are you alright? I've made us a good feast with Delicoso. Are you hungry? Would you care to join us?"
"Oh? They've left their door open. Morgyn? Are you in there?"
"No, they aren't in here at all. Maybe there's something on the desk that'll tell me where - One minute - what's that old tome?"
"A spell tome and an ingredients list. One angelfish, one death flower, and a goblet of..."
"No...Morgyn! I trusted that you wouldn't try to- I know exactly who they'd try to bring back! They're going to get themselves killed!"
Morgyn
A powerful light envelopes the two of us.
Róisín's body gradually reconstructs itself. A skeleton of light materialises into bones, and threads of muscle knit themselves around them. Her organs gradually form from magic. It takes the entirety of my focus to remain concentrated on the spell.
The magic charge crackles and sparks around me. No place, no experience, no intoxicating substance - Nothing else in the non-magical world could grant you as exhilarating a pleasure as this.
It is as if I am separate from my own body looking across at myself, cloaked in an angelic glow. Watching a wronged and tortured young girl finally regain the chance to live a normal life once again in the modern era, there is not a word that sums up the experience. The witches of old were correct to think 'wild' magic was almost deific. Last year, I had no idea that I'd eventually be this powerful. I'd gone from an anxious wreck to performing the near-impossible.
Pale white skin wraps itself over the bones, muscles and organs, and long locks of blonde wavy hair grows from her head, flowing in the air-
Róisín
"Morgyn? Are you-"
"Róisín, it worked - you're alive! Thank goodness, you're alive! This is - this is- are you okay?"
"I ought to be asking you the same! You've overcharged yourself, haven't you?"
No, this cannot be - I still remember what overcharge can do to people. I'm not worried about myself at all. This kind, kind person is not well at all!
"Don't you worry, Róisín," they reply, their voice broken up by their struggling breaths. "I'll be...I'll be..."
Magical energy still crackles around them, and they draw what might be their last breath.
"Sir, please! I don't want this to happen to them! I never asked for-"
"Róisín, take the blue stone from their pocket. It will have symbols engraved on it. Raise it high alongside me and I'll take all three of us back to the realm. Do you understand?"
I've looked everywhere for Morgyn and to no avail. Simeon is currently out looking for them. He says he found a tome on his desk and ingredients likely meant for either Necrocall, Dedeathify, or both. If they have done this, they will have ruined the delicate balance of life and death - something not even the true witches were willing to do. If they have not succeeded, there's every chance that overcharge claimed them.
"Mother! Mother, I'm sorry!"
That voice. I haven't heard it for so long that I almost don't remember it until I see her face.
My darling Róisín, as if she had never died at all - and Morgyn, my successor, laying limp in Simeon's arms.
I scream at the top of my lungs and the sound doesn't echo - it merely disappears into the purple void. Whatever emotions I am feeling now, I do not entirely understand them. Aching nostalgia and burning grief combine into something sickening.
"Mother, this is all my fault! It's all my fault!"
Róisín dashes towards me and wraps her arms around me, and for a second, I never want to let her go. All her fault? What could possibly be her fault? It was myself who let her down - who couldn't find her before she was burned. No, Róisín, my darling, it is my fault. It was always my fault.
"Morgyn offered to give me another chance at life, and I said yes! Of course I did - I wanted to see you again, Mother. And now they're - I didn't know it would - I'm so selfish. You must hate me. You must wish I stayed buried in the ground!"
"Darling, don't cry. I'm here. What happened?"
Simeon sighs, looking down at Morgyn and back to me with sorrowful eyes.
"Sage Ó Sé, I have no easy way to tell you this, but... Morgyn Ember is no longer with us."