It Was Only Supposed To Be Night Flight Training.
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So this ficlet is about the raids caused by the My Inner Demon video. It was supposed to be 500-750 words long but I got carried away by the angst.
Word Count: 3760
So warning for lots of angst.
TW: Blood, Gore, Non Human Humanoids, zombies(?)near Death, Panic Attack sort of? Corpses, Animal Injuries, Human Injuries, etc.
I think that’s it but I might have missed some so anything in those vein of warnings, just be careful.
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Morgana was stood on a faded beaten track that led into the Western Forest. She had donned a dark green cloak to try and keep away some of the night's chill and to protect her from thorns, should she accidentally wander too far into the forest. She gazed at the fringes of the forest. Watching, waiting.
She held her left arm outstretched with her falconry glove on. Her Red Kite eyass, Ceara, rested on the glove, watching the forest with interest. Ceara shuffled her feet and ruffled her feathers every so often, impatient.
Eamon stood beside Morgana, flank pressed up against her leg. He was wearing the leather collar and armour Morgana had gotten him since their last jaunt in the Western Forest.
Morgana tilted her head to the side, she needed to double check something. “Ceara, mind hopping down and holding onto Eamon's collar for a minute, please?”
Ceara gave a squawk of affirmation and launched off the glove into the air where she then circled around Eamon and latched onto his collar.
Eamon made a grumbling protest but Morgana ignored him in favour of double checking all the equipment she had brought with her.
She rifled around in her bag for a few seconds before spotting the pouch of sand, the bag of pretty stones and crystals, the small jar of honey, the hag stone with the cord wrapped around it to make it a necklace, and the bone ring carved with ancient protection sigils and runes. Morgana quickly slipped the ring and necklace on, mumbling “Better safe than sorry.” as she did so. She then double checked that her two daggers and their sheaths were still tied to her belt. She also checked that her quarterstaff was still slung over her back.
Eamon barked at her.
Morgana huffed. “Yeah, you're right. I probably should have my quarterstaff out in case we stumble across anything unfriendly.” She pulled her quarterstaff off her back and held it in her right hand.
She closed her bag up and outstretched her gloved left arm again. “Ceara, back!”
Ceara trilled and returned to resting on the glove.
Morgana clicked her tongue and walked off the beaten track and into the sparsest part of the Western Forest, Eamon close behind.
As they walked, Eamon made a series of barks to Morgana.
Morgana glanced at Eamon with a raised eyebrow, concerned. “Oh, Eamon. It'll be fine, the raids have started to die down and we're only going to stay on the fringes of the Western Forest to get Ceara acclimated to flying in forested areas at night. We'll be fine and anyway, what are the odds that the raids suddenly increase and intensify tonight and we get caught up in one.”
Once at a wide clearing, Morgana stopped. “Here looks nice. Shall we start with some…” A sudden wave of dizziness washed over her. She swayed slightly and Eamon rushed to help keep her from falling over. Ceara screeched in alarm.
Morgana crouched down and focussed on her breathing until the dizziness passed, which luckily only took a few seconds. She patted Eamon on the head. “Thanks boy. I don't why I felt so dizzy all of a sudden. I think I'm fine now though.”
Eamon stared at her unconvinced but nodded, his stare clearly conveyed a silent "I told you so".
Morgana huffed as she straightened up again only for Ceara to fling herself off the glove and fly deep into the Western Forest.
Eamon yelped in surprise.
“Ceara!” She gasped, brain processing what just happened. “No, no, no! Come back! Ceara! Stop!”
But Ceara did not stop or come back.
“Eamon, I know I said before we arrived that I wouldn't venture too deep into the Western Forest alone again, but we have to go after Ceara, she's only two and a half months old. She'll die out there without us.” Morgana pleaded, eyes shimmering with the unshed tears of panic and desperation.
Eamon grumbled something under his breath before nodding again, it was probably something along the lines of "We'll die out there." But Morgana didn't quite catch exactly what he said, so she wasn't sure.
Morgana nodded, feeling filled with determination. She quickly summoned a crow with her magic and ordered it to follow after Ceara.
The sparkling silver crow shot off after Ceara, Morgana and Eamon sprinted after it to keep up, hot on its heels. The crow led them further and further, deeper and deeper into the Western Forest. If she hadn't been so concerned over the fate of Ceara, she might've been worried about accidentally offending a Fae or attracting some unwanted attention from the forest's inhabits as she and Eamon followed the crow. Or maybe she would have been more concerned over the steadily worsening nausea she was feeling, the deeper she went and the longer time in the forest she spent. They were so deep into the forest now, that it would have been nigh impossible to see had it not been for the faint glow of the silver crow. They had to backtrack a few times, which certainly didn't help, as Ceara had flown through areas where Morgana and Eamon could not follow on foot.
Eventually, they reached a large rock in the forest with Ceara sitting on top of it, looking awfully frazzled.
“Ceara?” Morgana called hesitantly.
Ceara immediately perked up and dashed over to Morgana as soon as she spotted her, landing carefully on the glove.
“Ceara what happened? Why'd you get spooked?” Morgana asked.
Ceara warbled fearfully.
“Wait, what?” Morgana stared blankly at Ceara. “What do you mean bad thing? How could you have seen something suspicious this far away? We're completely lost in and way too deep into the Western Forest right now.”
Ceara flapped her wings and cawed.
“Well, I suppose that's fair… Wait, what's that?” Morgana's attention was grabbed by what looked like strange green and red glows a little ways away from where she and her two- three animal companions were huddled.
“Woah that's so cool!” She mumbled, completely enamoured by the pretty light show, not realising that with the lights, her nausea had grown worse and her skin had started to itch. “So co— hoLY KING'S EYEBALLS!” Her voice went up a pitch as she near screeched, sounding not too dissimilar to when Ceara screeches. A dark shadowy, mostly humanoid figure was lumbering towards her through the trees. It has come from where the pretty lights were coming from.
It was then that Morgana noticed how nauseous she was feeling and how staticky the air had become. Her mind raced. Her pulse quickened. She instinctively reached to her back for her bow. She grasped thin air. She had left her bow at home. She didn't think she would have needed it. Not when this was just supposed to be flight training. And now she was face to face. Face to face with one of the Enemy's minions. She felt sick. Her heart racing. Breathing quick and shallow. Her hands shook. Her grip tightened on her quarterstaff. Knuckles turning white. The creature— the thing stumbled closer and closer.
She willed the crow to attack. She stumbled back a few steps. The crow swooped down and attacked. The minion became distracted. Morgana's heart thundered in her chest. Her heartbeat was so loud in her ears. The static at the edge of her vision was becoming more and more visible. She felt frozen. Whether in fear or something else, she wasn't sure. But she was unable to move. The minion and the crow fought. She couldn't bear to watch. But she couldn't stop watching. Everything was a blur. Moving too fast, too slow. The minion hit the crow. The crow shattered into hundreds of thousands of silver sparkles. Morgana's felt a knot tighten in her chest. Had it become more difficult to breathe? She couldn't tell. Not over the pretty glow of the ominous lights. Not over the pounding of her heart. Not over the static slowly creeping over her vision.
The minion lurched forwards. It swiped. It hit. Blood. She was bleeding. Morgana could see herself bleeding. Cloak half shredded. Tunic ripped. So much blood. How deep was this wound? She couldn't focus. Extreme pain lanced through her. She fell to the ground. A massive black with green eyes cat- not a cat thing pinned her down. Where were Eamon and Ceara? Were they okay?
She was still holding her quarterstaff. Her right arm wasn't fully pinned down. She had a chance. One chance. One wrong move and she'd die. But with the correct move, she would survive. She inhaled— She was breathing again, that was good. And slammed the top of the quarterstaff into the unprotected throat of the feline beast. Pain. The beast screeched. It scrambled off her. Morgana clambered away and grabbed a tree for purchase. Using it to help pull herself up. She could move again. The beast was prowling around her. Circling her. Morgana raised her quarterstaff before her and bared her teeth. She quickly summoned a silver version of the creature she was facing. It failed to form. The beast attacked. Morgana countered with the quarterstaff. It tried to pounce. She whipped out one of her sheathed daggers and stabbed it in the stomach. The beast hissed and stumbled back.
It tried to swipe again. She slashed at its paw. Blood dripped down her dagger. Down into her hand. Morgana felt sick. She tried to summon a wolf. A giant silver wolf formed between her and the beast. The wolf attacked. With the beast busy, Morgana frantically glanced around for hair or feather of Eamon and Ceara. There. They were fighting the minion. Eamon's muzzle was stained red.
“Eamon! Ceara!” Morgana called desperately. Ceara turned and immediately swooped over to her. Eamon landed one last attack, downing the minion, before sprinting towards her. The beast was still busy with the wolf. It looked like the wolf had the upper hand. Morgana inhaled deeply and tried to calm herself down when she noticed that the lights had gotten closer. Countless minions were storming through the forest, towards somewhere. She felt so very sick. A raid. Had she jinxed herself? Had she gotten caught up in a raid? There was no escaping now. This would be the end for her. Hundreds of minions everywhere. She struggled with the cat beast and the one minion. No, she would die before she could take on what had to be hundreds of minions.
Morgana backed into the tree. A flash of brown hair caught her attention. One of the minions. She took a step towards the lights and the minions and could scarcely stifle her gasp and mutterings in time. “No, no, no, no, no, no…”
It couldn't be. He was dead. But it was. It had to be. Surely. No, that minion was too familiar for her comfort. She had to be dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or both. She couldn't be though. It had to be him. Her brother. Her dead brother.
“Connor…” She whimpered, terrified of what this could mean. His eyes. They were septic. No longer those sea blue eyes that changed shade with the ocean. Just black and green and septic. She felt her heartstrings rent. So much rending pain. She shuffled backwards with uneasy steps. A crunch of a twig beneath her boots made her heartbeat and breathing stutter in sync. Fear coursed through her veins as Connor and three other minions stopped marching and turned their heads to stare blankly at her. It was at that moment she felt the sharp sting of the wolf shattering into silver sparkles. She stepped back, quarterstaff raised. Eamon was growling and barking. Ceara was screeching like a banshee.
Morgana was glad there were no Fae right now, she didn't think she would be able to cope with a Fae and four of the Enemy's minions converging on her. The static was getting worse. She felt so dizzy. So sick. She collapsed onto the ground, onto her knees. Her hair came loose from its plait and formed a curtain, blocking her site. She sobbed. Tears streaked down her cheeks.
She was going to die.
She was going to die.
She was going to die.
She was going to die.
She was going to die.
She was going to die.
With the last of her strength, she tried to summon as many large and powerful animals as she could muster with her magic. The cacophony of animal calls was deafening. She looked up and through her hair and the blood dripping down her face— when had she started bleeding from the head?— she could vaguely make out the shapes of Eamon and Ceara circling her and protecting her. She tried to call out to them. She reached out an arm for Eamon. She tried to tell her summoned creatures and Eamon and Ceara to not kill her brother. She could not speak. Her vision became overlapped completely by the static, rendering her blind. She collapsed again. From her knees, she fell to the ground, half curled up on her side. Hair splayed out like a halo around her head. Blood pooling at her side.
The static was slowly overtaken by the darkness.
And then it all went dark, not just her vision.
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The raids on Bally Owenath ended at the break of dawn.
It was midday by the time Anemone and Aiden burst out of Morgana's house. Both had only gotten a few winks of sleep as they had been busy fighting the raid that had attacked the village last night and then spent the morning switching between resting and repairing the village.
“Morgana! Morgana! Oh, where the fuck have you gone!?” Anemone yelled.
A few villagers stared at her but most were too busy repairing buildings, putting out fires, calling out for their own dead or missing loved ones, or catching up on their missing sleep to care.
“Her falconry glove. It's gone! As is Eamon's collar and armour.” Aiden called out from the garden.
“Don't tell me she went out to the Western Forest last night…” Anemone whimpered, eyes wide with what that potentially could mean.
Aiden gulped. “If she did… the raids came from the Western Forest.”
“We have to find her!” Anemone looked towards the Western Forest.
Aiden nodded to Anemone and the two split up to go gather their gear and any other equipment they would need to venture into the forest to find their friend.
It took them barely five minutes each for the two of them to get fully geared up and ready to go. They left the village and went across the rickety bridge to the other side.
The twins were stood on a faded beaten track that led into the Western Forest. They gazed at the fringes of the forest. Watching, waiting.
“How are we going to find her?” Aiden asked in a small voice.
Anemone glanced at Aiden and grimaced. “I don't know.”
He pursed his lips. “Ah.”
“Yeah.”
A shadow flew over them with a familiar sounding caw. The shadow swooped down onto one of the tree branches near them. The sunlight revealed the shadow to actually be Ceara.
Anemone grinned. “I think we may have found our ticket to finding Morgana!”
Ceara shifted on the branch and flapped her wings. She cawed again and tilted her head towards the Western Forest.
Aiden smiled in relief. “I think she wants us to follow! That must mean Morgana's okay!”
Anemone opened her mouth to say "If she's okay, then why didn't she and Eamon follow Ceara out if the forest." But closed her mouth and instead decided not to say that, once she saw the hopeful look on her brother's face.
It felt like ages, following Ceara. Eventually, they came across a big rock surrounded by fallen trees. The area was covered in blood. A fight had definitely happened here. Two corpses littered the ground. Anemone and Aiden immediately recognised them as minions of Anti.
Anemone felt her heart plummet. Minions meant bad news. And if Morgana had to face an entire raid on her own so deep into the forest. Anemone didn't want to think about the implications of that.
Ceara landed on one of the still standing tree's branches. Beneath the tree was a humanoid looking shape hidden by a torn cloak. It looked like Morgana's cloak...
Anemone crouched beside the cloak and gently lifted up a corner of the cloak. Once she saw what lay beneath, she dropped the cloak and covered her mouth with her hands as she gasped. Blinking back tears she addressed her twin. “Aiden…”
Neither noticed the pair of eyes watching them. Nor the missing ancient bone ring. Nor the opened and empty jar.
“Yeah?” He asked, sounding cautious.
“I— I think I found Morgana…” Anemone choked out.
Aiden turned around and scrambled over to Anemone “Great! Where is sh— oh.”
Anemone lifted the cloak off of Morgana completely.
Aiden fell to his knees. He buried his face in his hands.
She was so very still. Eamon was beside her. His chest rose every few seconds, indicating he was still alive though.
Anemone leaned forward to move some of Morgana's hair out of her face. Her eyes were closed. If Anemone ignored the blood staining Morgana's tunic, she could almost pretend that she was simply sleeping.
Anemone froze. Was that her imagination, or did she just hear the faint wheezing of breath? She frantically placed her fingers on Morgana's neck, to check her pulse.
At first, nothing and then she felt a very weak heartbeat. So very weak, but a heartbeat nonetheless.
Anemone cried in relief. “Aiden. Aiden, there's a heartbeat. She's alive!” Then it dawned on her. “We need to get her to a doctor as quickly as possible
. And we need to get Eamon to a vet or at least to someone who can help him.”
Aiden lifted his head from his hands and hugged Anemone. “I'll grab her stuff and carry Eamon.”
She nodded. “Then I'll carry her. But first we should check for injuries so we don't hurt them when we move them.”
Aiden nodded.
After a few minutes of meticulous injury checking, Anemone and Aiden picked up Morgana, Eamon, and her possessions she had brought with her into the forest.
Anemone looked up at Ceara. “Can you lead us home?”
Ceara, who had been silently watching them, squawked and flapped her wings.
“I have no idea what you're saying, so I'll take that as a yes?” Anemone muttered.
Ceara cawed and took flight. She circled around them a few times before slowly flying off in the direction of the village. Anemone and Aiden tried to follow Ceara as quickly as possible.
When they arrived back in the village, it was late evening. Morgana was rushed to the local doctor and Eamon was rushed to the local veterinarian. Luckily all the village folk and animals who had been injured during the raid had received treatment from the doctor and vet respectively during and after the raid, so there was no wait for them to receive treatment.
Anemone had gone back to Morgana's house to put Ceara back in her mews and to then had been planning to check on Eamon at the vets so Aiden was sat in the waiting room of the doctors alone when the doctor approached him.
“I've got some good news and some not so good news about your friend Miss Morgana Spewraith. Which would you prefer to hear first?” The doctor asked kindly.
He glanced at his sister and then to the doctor. “I think we would prefer the good news first.”
The doctor nodded in understanding. “Well then, the good news is that Miss Spewraith should be able to recover in a matter of weeks. All her injuries were shallow or superficial and she hadn't lost too much blood. Although from the signs, she recently cast a spell that nearly used up all the magic in her soul. It's likely that she'll fall into a coma, or may have amnesia should she wake up. Just make sure she does nothing strenuous for the first week, and no using any of her magic either, she needs time to recover her magic or else she'll lose it permanently.”
He nodded, feeling his heart plummet. “Oh… and the bad news?”
The doctor grimaced. “Before I tell you the news, I need to double check something with you two first. Now you said that you found Miss Spewraith in the state you brought her in, in the Western Forest this morning correct?”
Aiden frowned. “Yeah. We believe she went into the forest sometime before the raid started and got attacked by some of the minions. The area we found her in looked like a fight had taken place.”
The doctor nodded solemnly. “My magic focus allows me to find abnormalities. Normally I use it to find unseen injuries, or unknown allergies, or to work out what is wrong with a patient. However whilst treating Miss Spewraith, I noticed an anomaly to do with her magic. Or well the magic residue on her, more specifically.”
Aiden paled.
The doctor continued, “I've treated patients who were affected by the Overnight Defence. The magic traces- the residue, is the same as what I've detected on Miss Spewraith.”
“So you detected The Enemy's influence on her then?” Aiden asked.
The doctor nodded. “Look, no need to worry, she's a watcher, it was bound to happen sooner or later.”
Aiden bit back a scathing remark and pursed his lips.
The doctor smiled. “Oh by the way, whilst she still hasn't woken up yet, she's well enough to have visitors now.”
Aiden smiled hollowly. “Thank you, can I see her now?”
“Yes, just follow me.” The doctor walked through a door and Aiden followed.
Once in the room, the doctor reminded him not to touch anything and to call if she needs help or wakes up and then left him and Morgana alone in the room.
Aiden grabbed Morgana's hand and whispered to himself more than to her. “What happened to you in there that caused you to nearly use up all of your magic to cast a spell? Why'd you even go to the Western Forest last night? You could've died…”
He sighed. “I— I'm sorry, just… Please wake up, please be okay.”
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@dumbthinmint