The Clacuwist -- The Battle of the Wist
Channel: The Sacred Isle - Folklore and Storytelling
Date: 2022-01-31

Join me as I recount the ancient battle of Sister verses Brother; I recount the story of Nihtgena as she tried to silence her brother Wūscfrēa.

This is told int he style of an Old English epic. 

Artwork by me.

Born of fire, these fatherless fraternal two of Niht
From the day they first breathed this darkened air
Conflict was their nature as it was built
betwixt their bones; siblings and rivals.

Like whisps of smoke sailing into the night,
The brother of the sister floats forever on,
He brings that waking dream, Nobleman of  the Wist,
And known to ethereal edgelands as Wūscfrēa.

Sister to her brother thy name is Nihtgena,
Silently stalking, slithering soundless, 
Through the darkness in search of those who
In the midst of slumber accept her unwelcome touch.

O how their mother morns more sorrowfully,
That melancholic ache of watching such siblings 
as these never reconciled because of the divine will of nature;
of this, the unbreakable bindings of the inclination of twins. 

As light grew short and the shadows grew long,
Those days where the shining splendour of Sigel
Flickers and wains, for soon she will ride the edges of night.
The before winter had started and Nihtgena plotted.

This sorceress of putrid dreams, the things that leave us forlorn
And when we wake we tell ourselves they are nothing more
Than conjurings, but our souls know otherwise; though we try to ignore,
Within and without we wonder, is this an omen of dread?

“I tire of this chase that my brother gives to me,
Always over my shoulder does he watch, unpicking at my work.
Now is the time when those things of darkness wake..
And for the unwaking would to come. O  the workings I will work!”

For this was her promise, the night would be hers,
To take away such hope and magic as those mysterious
And shimmering of places, those dreams of life to come
That is, this, the very Wisting of the morrow.

“This promise I give to those that will serve me,
I will give you the minds of the weak for you to torment in their sleep,
No more will you have worry that the Wūscfrēa will control
This place and that.. It will be ours” She called into the shadows.

“Come to me and I shall give you voice, I shall give my workings.
Your voices will be heard even though those things
That did make thee did not wish to give you voice and
So spell-binding you could not make”

And like a moth to the flame they came to her dark beacon.
She warned unto them, “Be quiet my friends, my mother does listen 
to the whispers  you make. For she loves my brother so.
She loves this wretched but righteous fool to readily.”

“Gather to me my dark crawling imps!” was her battle cry.
“for we shall wander the night, slight and silent are our footsteps
Foreseen our plan is not and we will sidestep the flow
Of divine will. Blood means nothing, for we make our family.”

And with this binding she did make a line not born of blood,
But born of those things that one daren’t dream of but 
By her will, be forced to dream of. To make her turnings
Of twisted tenured and hopeless loss.

Stepping forth into the world, this brood of descent did walk;
Keeping to darkened corners, those cracks and broken places.
They writhed and withered withing the walls 
They blew the putrid whispers to pollute mankind’s sleep.

Standing before her throng, The Nihtgena called out. Rousing them 
As if to a crescendo of bleak -- these things that should not
Be upon this living world. The things that for generations
The spells of humanity have held back. Her voice strong and loud.

“Half take the night my new family of shade, 
Take my working with you and shower all with sadness.
And the other come with me, for tonight we shackle
My brother, lest he take back from me what we have built this night”

To seek out her brother they did, capture him they did
“Hold him tight, my family of imps
Hold him tight and into the night we will take him”
And she bound him bonds of the unspoken.

“See my brother, for even though you are like smoke,
Those things that are the unspoken will hold a soul like thee in place. 
Those unspoken things that you yourself do not know, 
Let them strike thee, I take thy magic and hold thee!”

“But sister I implore” were his words to her 
“What trespass did I make against thee?
What things did I do that would make you bind me so?
For all I have done and do, I do because of you.”

“Shut thy mouth, I bind your voice” said she to her flesh
“Your magic I take, you shan’t spake unto the world
And with no words, no working you can make.
You will not unpick my spells again”