#ic canon

[explosively-psycho-a]

((Baku hating smoking is kinda canon. Just a note from last night.))

@crxckedxce

@redxriiot

[inkedwolf-archive]

Kul’Tiras Awaits

Mac waited as several others boarded, bodies pushing past her on the dock even though she was well out of the way. Murmurs and shouts set the tone. So many were anxious to get to Kul’Tiras, that bustling harbor having been hidden away almost as well as Gilneas since the tragedy that befell Theramore. A kingdom of its own, independent of the Alliance. What was more, it was ruled by women. Something about that satisfied Mac to no end. If there was one thing that the more masculine sex didn’t understand is that men go to battle when their home, honor, or pride is insulted. Women, on the other hand… Women wage wars. Give a woman a cause, any cause, good or bad that she truly believes in, and no force on earth would keep her from laying utter ruin to those that would defy her, harm her, or see her in chains.

It was an odd thing to think about, but her mind had few other places to wander where she could truly let it roam. Her mind was in control, careful control. The past pair of weeks she had been slipping. She wanted to hate the man that betrayed her trust, yet try as she might, she simply couldn’t. Her dreams had plagued her. Dreams of what could be, nightmares of the attack. Honestly, she didn’t know what was worse. Dreaming about something that happened but couldn’t be stopped. Or dreaming about what could have been if things hadn’t ended. Both were destructive in their own way. Her near slip was enough to make that more than apparent. She needed to get away. To let go. She could never forget, but she could damn well try to do what she did to all things she had cared about in her life. Bury it. Bury it deep and keep living.

She stood there waiting in the salty breeze, letting the warmth of Stormwind wash over her. Summer reigned here, however, in the northern reaches winter ruled supreme. It wouldn’t be long before the last traces of warmth were but a distant memory. Her hair whipped about wildly as she stood there, her long raven locks dancing in the wind, not even the weight of the tiny braids and decorative feathers keeping it from flailing about. Her clothes were her favored leather garb, only to accommodate the cooler climes, She had packed fur lining in her bags. Something to don once they reached the frigid port city.

As the last of few stragglers boarded the galleon, Mac finally stepped aboard the vessel. She wasn’t fond of the sea, she much preferred her forests and well-guarded land. Still, there was something utterly serene about the glittering surface and the sun setting on the horizon, painting the sky like a canvas, letting the colors shine against the waves like jewels on the surface. She wondered if the lodgings she booked would have a view. The journey was an easy one, with the wind on their sides, they would reach Kul’Tiras in a pair of days easily, yet Mac didn’t relish the idea of being cooped up in a windowless cabin. She also didn’t enjoy the idea of being shoulder to shoulder with the overabundance of passengers. 

Looking around, she assumed most people present were traveling over steerage. Perhaps, for once, Mac truly was the stuck up noble she was born and bred to be. She refused to pack in like rats in stacked hammocks and hay strewn corners in the deepest levels of the ship. Perhaps another journey, but not this one. Not so soon after the horrors that happened in the tunnels. The last thing she needed was to pack herself in with a bunch of innocents and provoke the bitch that lurked in the depths of her mind. The vessel would arrive as a ghost ship, were she reckless enough to venture that far below deck. No. No steerage for her. She wanted her space. She wanted to breathe. And by the gods, she wanted to lose herself to distraction. 

At the mere thought of it, she heard just that. Some manner of distraction barreling down the pier. Splintered would, the collision of bodies, people taking a tumble into the water. Mac spotted a streak of black and then a glint of azure colored eyes and right away she knew what was happening. It seems her guest had once again found here. The ship had already left the pier, a few feet away but distancing itself quickly. It was then Mac the impressive leap. She watched as Tryn soared through the sky, taking a single step back as he started his breakneck descent, landing right in front of her.

The people in the immediate vicinity too a step back, hushed whispers and panic spreading through the crowd. Mac didn’t move. Instead, she looked Tryn over and quirked a brow as he spoke. She hummed with amusement and shook her head. He was bossing her around as if he had a say. “..No leave again. Tryn worry.” She could have agreed to ease his mind, however, the words that left her lips had a different intent. 

“You’re late…” She said with a gentle smirk, looking around to the group of spectators that were still giving Tryn a wide berth. “C’mon, love. I booked us a cabin.” 

@theruneslayer

[karicharbonneau]

The Interview.

“Thanks for coming in and it was great meeting you.  I have more interviews to do so I will let you know in a few days how things go.”  

Kari stood from behind her desk in the office of the back of her shop.  She offered her hand to the portly woman in front of her.  She shook hands and allowed the woman to leave the office before she exhaled slowly and slumped back into her seat.  Kari was a perfectionist.  Interviewing for someone to run her shop was a nightmare.

The planner before Kari had a circled name waiting for her when she finally looked to see who was next to be interviewed.  “Liniael Riverbend.  That has to be Elvish… “ She muttered to herself as she took up the application and read through it again.  There was a reason she picked this one last.  

Twenty minutes later, the lean Ren’dorei with purple hair sat before Kari in her office. The elf was reasonably attractive, and if the void hadn’t touched her, it was reasonable to believe she was stunning once.  Now just a shadow of who she once was.  

“So, Miss Riverbend. I see you have no experience in managing a business.  You haven’t worked in retail before.   Though you have some skills in Alchemy?”  Kari asked the woman.

“Yes, Ma’am.  In Silvermoon, I worked filling orders for an alchemy shop. I’ve never been out front, so to speak but I can read recipes and follow them.  That is under the advisement of a trained Apothecary. I haven’t had any formal training.”

“To be frank, this application is pretty lacking.  I don’t get the impression you’ve done nothing over the years but fill orders. You are also Ren’dorei.  May I ask about that?  I am interested in how you came to the city.”  Kari questioned.

Liniael nodded “I was a priestess before the third war.  After, I found new ways to fill the emptiness in me when the Sunwell was destroyed.  Most went to fel but I… I embraced the light’s counterpart.  I lost everything because of that, was banished from my home and brought back into the world of humans again.  I have nothing now.  I know some alchemy, so I applied. It was a long shot, I know, but I need to eat.   The Alliance, while accepting, isn’t terribly trusting of a Ren’dorei who specializes in mental manipulation.  It tends to turn people off.”  The woman sighed heavily.

Kari, on the other hand, perked up at the story.   She needed no more, and she stood and offered her hand “You got the job, Miss Riverbend.  I will also be taking you on as an apprentice and start training you to become an accredited Apothecary.”

The elf blinks at the outstretched hand “Are you… are you serious?”  She stood to shake Kari’s hand without question.  She asked, “But why?”

Kari smiled as she shook the woman’s hand “I know a thing or two about having no one and doing what you have to do to survive.  All it takes is one person believing in you and giving you a chance.  I want to give you that chance.  Alchemy, at it’s highest forms, is spells woven into liquid.  Not much more.  I want to see what you can do with that mind of yours.”

Kari walked the woman out to the front of the shop and said: “Welcome to The Lavender Parlor.  We open in one week.”

[inkedwolf-archive]

Part Three: The Shattered Glass

Missed Parts One and Two? Feel free to check them out on my blog! Just follow the links below!  

Part One 

Part Two

Natalie didn't announce herself as she stormed into her father's study, everything about her a maelstrom of emotions, anger being the driving force of the storm. Confident steps carried her over to the desk where she slammed down the stack of papers she had pulled from the business archives.

“Did you even read this when you signed those papers all those years ago? Does she know?” Her voice was quiet but the softness did little to hide her fury.

There was a low hum of annoyance as her father rose from his seat, arthritic hands reaching across the desk to fan the papers across the mahogany desktop. Picking through the pages one by one he found document her was looking for and pulled it to the top for his daughter to see. “Look at the signature. Compare it to the one you received in the letter.”

Natalie didn't need to look. She has watched the woman sign several documents, so much so, that she was creating a stamp for her to spare her hand from the onslaught of paperwork that came with new business. 

“She writes like her mother?” Natalie asked, confused by the similarity.

Shaking his balding head, her father sat back down with a loud huff. “She is the same woman who invested all those years back. Her mother, I knew as a boy. Brutally murdered. Macaela actually looks more like her father. I was there when she was wed. Same woman, untouched by time. So yes, she knows. Truth be told, I never thought I would see her again. Now that’s she’s here, give her what she wants. Don’t give her a reason to take control.” 

“Don--” Natalie reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose, forcing herself to take a moment and count to ten before she spoke. She was rarely like this. More often than not she was calm and collected about everything. This, however, was her future and her livelihood. “She owns us. It’s all hers. You took her money and used every last copper to open our business.”

Natalie then pulled out the document she had flipped to initially. “And you agreed to pay her back after the first year in monthly installments. In the event payment wasn’t received on time, you agreed to a twenty percent interest rate. Signed and sealed by several as witnesses… And you never paid. This was four decades ago! Do you know how much money we owe this woman? I couldn’t buy myself out of this debt if I tried!” 

“Oh, we won’t be paying her back. I fully intend to make sure we appease her… for now. And when I’m assured that we are her last living relatives, Lady Marley will have an unfortunate accident. There are a great many dangerous people in Boralus. One wrong turn here can have a tragic end. We will mourn her, and as her only living heirs, our future will be secured for years and years to come.”

[inkedwolf-archive]

War of the Thorns

Shouts woke her. It was still early in the night yet people were calling out, their voices reaching through the thick stone walls. Walking out onto the balcony, she looked to see a flood of people armed and heading towards the portals. They shouted what she already knew had been coming. Horde invasion in Darkshore.  

War. 

She was supposed to be resting, recovering. Her body was bruised but welling up inside of her was an anger like she had seldom felt before. Not for the war, she had lived through many. 

Her attack was still fresh in her mind. She didn't want to be coddled and wrapped in wool as she healed. She wanted blood. She wanted violence. She was tired of feeling like she was nothing. Running back inside she dressed quickly and scrawled a quick letter.

Kari & Sal, 

I’ve been broken over and over again. Shattered so many times, there is nothing truly left of me. War calls. I’ve gone to Darkshore. They need healers and soldiers. I wasn’t meant to mend and gently pick up the broken pieces of myself. I was meant to fight. 

Your Sister, 

Mac

Bloodshed and chaos. The moment she stepped through the portal it was an uphill battle. She watched soldiers fall all around her, the stench of carnage and the metallic taste of blood filled the air. She was a healer but she had lived through war after war. Fighting was second nature. Her blade whistled through the air as she moved, carving through flesh and bone. There was only one thing in her wake. 

Death. 

Wounded where everywhere. Dying on the ground, choking on their own blood. It was a graveyard, the people in it were just taking their time with dying. Mac walked through the sea of groans, kneeling down over and over. The retreat had sounded. Time to flea to the Elven City or fall. Those left here were too far gone. Their brothers in arms had left them to die. 

Alone. 

The healing tents were utter chaos. Wounded everywhere, no one leading the charge to tend to those who were injured in battle. She jumped into the fray, barking directions, creating order out of the chaos, at least to those who were in earshot. Everyone had a job. In the haze of it all, an elf of all things, challenged her. 

“I don’t have to listen to you. Gilnean mutt.” 

Mac was covered in blood and tending to a patient, removing a piece of shrapnel, yelling for someone to bring her supplies. The moment the elf’s words reached her ears, she nodded to the woman next to her, signaling for her to take over. 

Mac’s eyes flashed amber and the moment her hands were free, she spun around and drove her knee hard up into the elven man’s groin. She could feel the tender flesh impact with her knee. Like squashing a moonberry. 

As he dropped, Mac’s amber gaze bored into his. “Save your prejudices for the horde. You can help the wounded... or you can join them. I’m giving you a choice. The rest is up to you.”

Exhaustion had claimed her. She had only been asleep for an hour or so before she heard the screams. Not the wails of pain coming from the wounded. This was pure agony, heartache, and fear. As she opened her eyes, everything seemed hazy. It took her a moment to clear her mind, sleep deprivation taking its toll. When the fog lifted, that's when she understood the screams. Looking around, the air was heavy with it. The acrid smell, the thick haze.

Smoke. 

@karicharbonneau @salvador-nightbane

[inkedwolf-archive]

Origin Story: Macaela E. Marley

Here is a short story for how Macaela became one of the first few afflicted before Gilneas was overrun by the worgen threat. 

Part One

The sun looked as though it had set the forest ablaze. Bright beams of light shone down on the canopy, making the autumn colors all the more vibrant. The entire forest was an explosion of hues no artist could ever hope to catalog or capture in its entirety. It was breathtaking to behold, especially when the breeze rustled through the trees, making the sun glint and gleam of the brightly colored leaves, turning the world into a sea of glittering jewels.

The breeze was crisp, carrying with it the cold as well as the scents of autumn;  the slightly acrid smell smoke from a nearby fire, the musk of dead leaves that had littered the forest floor, the dusty hint of the rain yet to come. She couldn’t explain why the smells wafting through the air were so damn appealing. But they were. She loved autumn.

Even here, on the edge of the ancient wood that many feared, the beauty of the season had taken hold. The Blackwald was known for its dark gnarled and twisted trees. Myths of beasts lurking in those sinister looking trees, waiting to swoop down and claim their prey. Stories passed down from one generation to the next. Tales children know, like the boogeyman.

Macaela sat on the edge of the forest on a large blanket, watching her son play with her Grand Daughter Rose. It was such a sweet sight, she wished she could capture it for all time. Like so many other memories, however, she knew they would fade with the march of time.

Her son was already silver-haired and looking rather distinguished. How long before he with would wither and fade away as well? It was a sad thought. One she pulled herself from as he came trodding back up to her, looking winded, while Rose still played at the edge of the forest.

She offered him a smile. “Feeling your age, darling?” Her son laughed softly, nodding to her.

“That and then some. I shouldn’t have waited so long to have children. At this rate, they’ll be pushing me in a pram instead of the other way around. She’s growing up like a weed.”

The little girl, no more than five was still squealing happily as she plays, her doll in hand as she bounced and ran. Her vibrant copper-colored locks put the autumn hues to shame.

Mac nodded to her son and offered him a sad smile. “They all do. You did.”

There was a comfortable silence that grew between them before her son broke it. “I don’t know how you do it. Sit around and watch the world around you age. Doesn’t it bother you that you’ll outlive your children… your grandchildren… and their children?”

Macaela watched her son, her pale hazel eyes on him. “It’s the price I must pay, darling. It bothers me, yes. No parent should have to outlive their child. That said, I don’t regret for a moment the sacrifice I made. I knew going in that there would be a heavy price. A life saved, a life owed, love. I couldn’t lose you then, so I made the deal, I cast the spell. I saved your life and the price is what it is. It’s ironic that I couldn’t lose you then and the cost was that I will watch you grow old and still one day… have to say goodbye. The gods are clever.”

Her son looked rather unsatisfied with the answer, however, before he could voice as much hoof beats could be heard. Both he and Macaela turned their attention from Rose and one another to the rider coming up fast.

“Lord Marley, there is another one. She was brought into town much like the other two. Bitten by a beast. Fever.”

As he was addressed, Macaela’s son rose to his feet and nodded. “I will be back to town shortly. Since healers cannot find a solution, perhaps someone of the Old Ways can manage. Head back. I’ll be right behind you.”

Macaela was watching him carefully. She could see the burden weighing on his shoulders. These weren’t even his lands, they were far from their home, yet his allies required aid. “Third one this year. Bitten, fever, and then they vanish…” She pointed out the obvious, trying to get his view on the matter.

“Aye.” Was all he said before he turned back towards the forest. Macaela could see the tension suddenly build tenfold, the look of panic in her son’s eyes. “Where is Rose?”

Macaela’s eyes shot to where the girl had just been playing moments before. She was gone and then through the trees, Macaela spotted a flash of those copper curls. “Rose! We told you… No forest.”

“You see her?”

Macaela pointed straight ahead. “Pack up. I’ll go get her. She’s just there.” She didn’t wait for an answer, she just picked up the hem of her skirts and started making her way towards the wayward child with a smile on her face. It didn’t take her long to reach the young girl and when she did, she bent down and scooped her up in her arms, blowing a raspberry on her neck. “You shouldn’t run off like that my little fox. You scared your father.” Macaela was smiling, however, Rose seemed distracted by something else. Furrowing her brow, Macaela looked around. “What is it, love?”

“There was a doggy. I can’t see it anymore.” She explained. “It was really big.”

Macaela chuckled, assuming it was one of the mastiffs wandering through the woods, hoping to snag a hare. “Well, I’m sure he’ll run home. You have playful mutts of your own. Come on, back to your father we go.”

No sooner than Macaela turned her back there was a thunderous howl behind her. Foolishly, her eyes shot to her granddaughter, her scream pulling her attention for a fraction of a second. That delay was all the beast needed. Macaela turned just in time to see a flash of dark fur and a mouth full of fangs. She acted on instinct along as she saw that gaping maw coming towards her. Looking back to Rose frozen in terror in her arms, she called upon her gifts, tossing her granddaughter with all of her strength and calling on the wind to carry her quickly back to the edge of the forest where her father would be.

The moment Rose left her arms, Macaela felt those hideous fangs lockdown over her shoulder, digging deep as claws raked down her side. The pain was beyond exquisite, like nothing she had ever felt before. Burning heat and the feeling of torn flesh was beyond anything her senses had ever known. She was frozen in shock at first, but then, as it was wont to happen, her screams found a way to escape, echoing out through the forest in a wail of utter agony. It was too much. The world went black. 

Part Two

Macaela woke up feeling as if she’d been beaten. Her arm ached, throbbing with pain, and she could feel the heat of her blood as it oozed from her wounds. Looking around while groaning, she realized she was being carried, the world bouncing slightly and the warmth of the body she was being held against. Letting her head loll backward, she saw her son, worry etched across his face.

She suddenly tensed in his arms, panic beating back her exhaustion. “Rose?!”

Her son shushed her as she started to wiggle. “She’s fine. She came blowing out of the forest just as I reached the edge. I heard screams and I thought…” He cleared his throat, trying to keep his composure. “You’re both going to be fine. “Rose won’t speak save for saying wolf. I’m guessing that’s what bit you. We’ll get you mended. Don’t worry.”

Her granddaughter was safe. That was all that mattered. She passed back out in her son's arms, letting exhaustion take her. She woke up a day and a half later, feeling like her mouth was full of sand. Her wounds had been seen to, bandaged rather than healed for some reason. Her head was pounding, feeling as if it would split open.

She sat up slowly, spotting her son sleeping in a chair awkwardly and Rose playing nearby on the floor with her doll and coloring on a piece of paper. The moment Rose saw movement, she squealed with delight. “Mac! Mac! You’re awake!” The little girl was leaping onto the bed a moment later to hug her grandmother from the side carefully.

Macaela chuckles hoarsely. Her throat felt like she had gargled glass. “Yes, my darling. I’m awake. I just needed a nap.”

Her son started to stir and the moment he locked eyes on Macaela sitting up on her own, he breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank the Light.”

At the turn of phrase, Macaela wrinkled her nose. “The gods, more like it. I feel awful. Infection?”

As she looked at her son, he saw the sorrow in his eyes as he pulled from her gaze, looking away. Macaela blinked and then looked down at her arm and back to her son. “Bitten… and a fever.”

Her son only nodded before he cleared his throat. “I need to go let the healers know that you’re up. They’re tending to others in town.” He saw himself out quickly, leaving Rose behind with Macaela.

“Papa’s sad,” Rose said as the door closed. “He cried all night, Mac.”

Macaela pulled the girl into her lap with her good arm and squeezed her in a half hug before she kissed the top of her head. “He’s just worried, love. He’ll be okay, you’ll see. Here…” She set her down back on the floor. “Why don’t you go back and color.”

Macaela watched as Rose bounced back over to her art project. She didn’t want to worry the child, but she felt awful. Her bones ached, her stomach felt as if it hadn’t seen a meal in ages. Her skin itched, yet, when she scratched, it felt as if the touch would tear it open. Even breathing was becoming labored. She felt as if she couldn’t take a deep breath and each time she managed, she could hear a raspy wheeze that sounded almost like a low growl.

Scents suddenly overwhelmed her. She could smell the oil in the lamps, the wilted flowers next to the door, and more than that… even the meal being cooked in the kitchens below. Sound was deafening, even the sound of Rose’s crayon being dragged across the paper. Everything has hypersensitive. It was overwhelming. Her head truly felt like it would split open.

She tried to ignore it all but then Rose was bouncing up to her proudly, her paper in hand. “Look Mac! I drew the monster!”

“That’s nice, love.” Macaela’s eyes were closed and the little girl called her out on it.

“Mac, you have to see! Lookit!”

Macaela opened her eyes just enough to see the dark creature on the page. There it was in black crayon with glowing yellow eyes. Not a wolf, but the beast of the stories that were passed down from generation to generation. Half man, half wolf… the hybrid that everyone feared. Mac just sat there and stared, horror seeping into the depths of her mind.

Rose was suddenly giggling. “Mac, lookit! Your arm is all fuzzy where you itched!”

The words didn’t register at first and when Macaela looked down, she could see her ruined flesh and blood coated fur along the length of her good arm. Her heart sank and her stomach lurched as she pushed Rose onto the floor. “Rose… ru—”

Macaela choked on her words, gagging on her own tongue as her body began to convulse. She felt like she as being torn apart. Her world turning red. The last thing she saw was Rose running towards her with her doll, kneeling down to comfort her. 

[karicharbonneau]

"Lets see... Where do I want to go? Honestly I don't really know. Somewhere quiet, with enough water to have a boat but not too far away from a city. Somewhere we can have a big yard and not feel cramped up. Somewhere we can go to escape and breathe. A real home." Sal spoke.

Kari replied “I’ve never lived in the country.  I mean, Darkshire isn’t a huge town, but I’ve always been in a town.  Though, I kind of like it here at the plantation. It’s quiet.  Even my new apartment is quiet.  No sound of the tram or the forges”. 

“I see us out in the middle of no place along a coast or along a river that isn’t far from the coast.  A nice big house, some outbuildings we can run projects in.  I want a big garden.  I’ve never been a place I can grow my own plants.  No idea if I would even be good at it.  Some place we can lay outside naked and no one will see us.  Someplace big enough that… one day…”  She shrugged and left that hanging.  She laid her head back down.  “I like this idea.”

@salvador-nightbane

[inkedwolf-archive]

Life Event

Mac’s July Challenge

It is amazing how one small act, incident, or event can change the tide of an entire story. These can be good or bad things as we read. A catastrophe, meeting a soul mate, losing someone, having a child. There are so many things that our muses experience that shape the very fabric of their being. Today’s challenge will touch on that. How one thing, big or small, has impacted them. Now, we’ve already talked origin stories, the beginning of your muse. Today we talk about another life-altering incident.

Describe what you consider the most important event of your Muse’s life so far. 

“Ya can’t be much older than I am.”

Mac laughed softly at the comment. Her youthful appearance fooled so many. Even her sometimes when she looked in the mirror. Frozen in time, unable to grow old. It was both a blessing and a curse. She usually hid her strange longevity, no good usually came from telling people her true age. However, as she sat there with Mister Belmont watching the Deeprun Tram come and go, for some reason she didn’t feel the need to hide it from him.

“I’ll be 83 this December.”

As predicted, the usual look and questions followed. He was kind, his rough voice laced only with innocent curiosity and not judgment. The how behind the trick. Mac only wished it was a trick. Some simple thing she could simply stop as she wished. Instead, she explained the truth behind it.

“I nearly lost my son when he was young. I didn’t have the power to save him and I couldn’t bear to lose my child. I turned to those that did, higher powers with the ability to save him… for a price. He was spared, saved by the wild magic coursing deep in the earth. A life saved, a life owed. Ironic part is, I couldn’t lose him there, but the price I paid… He will grow old and eventually die. I will not. In the end, I will still lose him like I would have then.”

Mister Belmont nodded, his following question a simple one. “Does ‘e know what ya did?”

Mac nodded. “He knows, yes. We’re estranged now. It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken to him but he knows…”

                                                 OOC Notes

Though most don’t know it, Mac is actually a Gilnean Witch of the Old Ways. In this slightly obscure version of Lore, it hints that Gilnean “druids” had limited control of natural magic and much like the primitive tribes of early humanity, they worship the wild gods.

Utilizing this lore, Mac wasn’t able to save her son. Her magic being limited, she didn’t possess the necessary strength to heal him. I am a firm believer that when it comes to magic beyond what one possesses, and with gods in play, that there should always be a price.

In this instance, the cost was longevity. Many would see this as a blessing, however, as the years march on, Mac remains frozen at the same age from the day she saved her son. She was unwilling to part with him when death was there with a sharp knife, threatening her son with a short life.

Because of her inability to accept that all things must die and that it was her son’s time, the gods collected her debt owed with a cruel irony. Mac would remain young while all those she truly cared about aged with the march time. Her children, friends, and family would wither with age and eventually die, one by one.

The reason this event is so important to Mac is because it came with lessons that shaped her into the person she is today. For one, Mac is very guarded due to the fact that she has watched so many loved ones pass from this world. She fears getting close to another because she knows one day she will mourn them.

It also gave her a new respect for her gifts. Before, she always took her magic for granted, especially her ability to connect with something greater and perform rituals and spells that were far beyond her own natural abilities. Now, she understands the dangers and the price that comes with tapping into wild powers. She was desperate to save her child and leapt before she looked. While she doesn’t regret her choice in the slightest, she knows the price she paid was a sacrifice not many would be able to accept.

Now, Mac serves as not only someone who can help the desperate who are looking for a miracle, she also uses her story as a warning to the rare few who find themselves at her door, seeking help for something dire. She reminds them that interfering with the natural course of things often has unexpected consequences and sometimes the price that must be paid is too great. 

@gideonbelmont