Malignant Darkness

Morrigan Aurelianos wandered through the dimly lit corridor. Desperately, she brushed a hand on the roughly hewn stone walls, trying to stay on the path. She could feel the presence of the weave in the back of her mind, calling to her, reaching out for her to grab hold; but she could not. It was not as though she had lost the ability, far from it. No, she simply would not do it. Not now. Not ever, if she could help it.

“Have to keep going…” She muttered to herself, “Just a little further…”

She continued stepping forward, keeping her hand to the wall at her side. Her eyes were hazed over, a thin sheet of black shimmering faintly, hardly visible from the outside, but blinding to her. Behind her, the air rippled, and opened, as a figure appeared, broad-shouldered and tall, clad in carmine colored robes.

“Lord of the Dawn! I have come for you.” he called out in a clear, deliberate voice, putting an eerie emphasis on his final word.

Morrigan leapt forward, no longer taking care to hold on to the wall, trusting in nothing but luck that she would not crash into something. The man in crimson stepped towards her ominously, not quickening in the slightest. Her pointed ears twitched at the sound of his slow, methodical foot steps. She heard the quiet noise of cloth rustling, and of energy shimmering. She dove to the floor, just in time to avoid a streak of white fire, surging from the hand of her pursuer. The tug of the weave grew even greater within her, gnawing at her from the inside. With a gesture, she could atomize the man. It would be so easy…

*No! Not for this! I will not! Ever!* She almost believed it.

Another burst of that iridescent, pale flame shot past her, cutting through walls and columns alike, rendering them into nothing.

"Why delay the inevitable? You knew what the consequences would be, you fool!" the man barked, anger filling him.

Morrigan could not help it. Try as she might, she would not be able to escape him. She stopped her desperate attempt to escape, lurching upwards, turning to face her attacker. A smile curled across his face, which slowly vanished as he saw the woman before him. Her eyes no longer held the shadowy glaze, instead now burning with purple light. Morrigan could see him, and everything else, clearly now. He raised a hand, circling his fingers in the air, tracing a sigil.

"Karia Vorn'To-" He shouted, but was cut off before he could speak.

Morrigan shouted, "Silence!", her lone word,, echoing loudly, shaking the very earth beneath her. It was not her voice. Raising a hand, she flung the man to the ceiling like a ragdoll, utterly powerless against her. Channeling yet more power from the weave, her eyes grew brighter and brighter, swinging him around, binding his hands to his back, and swiftly bringing him mere inches away from her, the wind from his flight blowing back her snow-white hair.

Fear crawled across his face, a desperate look in his eye. Before he could speak, Morrigans expression grew cold, as did her voice.

"You and your master may think you know who I am, but I know you far, far better, Asham." Eyeing his forlorn look, a small smile curled across her face. "Don't worry, I won't erase you, like you've tried to do to me. No, I'll only kill you. That way, you can deliver my message: I. Will. Fix. This."

With a final channeling of power, a whip of lightning curled into shape across her fingers, which she lashed around the man's neck, leaving no time for him to plea. His body fried in an instant, dropping to the floor. Smoke plumed off his limp, broken corpse, as Morrigan fell to her knees.

A million scattered thoughts filled her mind, as soon as her grasp on the weave ended. The purple light faded from her eyes, as she clutched her head. She breathed heavily, over and over, panting like a dog. Her body began to tremble, as she reeled back her head, and began to laugh. She could not control it. She could not control… Herself. A mad cackle echoed through the corridors of this place… This place. Where was she? She did not know. Or… Perhaps she had forgotten. She picked herself up off the floor, and continued stumbling forward.

The shadow pulled across her eyes once more, and within it, she saw it. Saw herself. Standing amidst the infinite array of Strands that was the weave, a black iron gate before her. For the thousandth time she saw herself reach up to the cold bars, wrapping Strands of the weave around it, and herself. Then, she saw it all shatter, as a black wave of light shot across the sky over the city of Westbrooke, and across the weave, tainting it irreparably. Because of her. Because in her arrogance, she believed she could control it. To wield freely what the gods themselves feared. In her arrogance, she believed.