There was a girl who was cursed with the inability to age, she’d go through time wondering if she would be killed and released from her pseudo-immortality. When she first turned 17, poised to inherit her family’s fortune. However, she was attacked by a creature pulled from another dimension. It had blood red eyes, coarse needle-like fur tinted red, serrated fangs that would skin any animal, and the claws that were as sickles. It slashed out her stomach. The pain as her various guts spilled out became overwhelming and she fainted, soon to die. She heard a strange language course through her head and change her somehow. Her endowment ceremony was half a day ride away and she was ended so fast and brutally.
Her family ordered her body to be prepared for burial. They stitched her back together best they could and dressed her in her finest clothes under the watch of guards order to kill at any misstep. Once she was prepared, her family commissioned an oak and ash wood coffin with a purple velvet inside. The funeral went on and her family grieved in a nearby noble homestead.
When she awoke there was nothing but blackness. Unsure of where she was her kicks indicated that she was underground. Holding back a scream she teared up at the thought her family had buried her by accident. She sat there quietly waiting for death to take and it never would. After days and days of wait there were multiple thuds from above. The grave was cracked opened and two graverobbers saw her moving and blinking and panicked back to their lord intending to keep this a secret. When she rose the realization that who she was is now dead washed over her. she came up with a new name, Mersala. Mersala stowed the things her family had buried with her in a box and walked to a near town seeking charity, but the villagers refused and even attacked her once or twice. Mersala ran from the town into the woods and happened upon a rundown, leaky, abandoned shack or so it seemed. When she entered the place was cleaner than her former abode. A woman with clean straight hair, clear skin, and pleasant breath greeted her with familiarness as if they’d met before. Mersala wondered who this strange woman was. This woman gave her clothes and some food, but the realization that this woman was a witch hit hard.
“Were you the one that summoned that dreadful beast”, Mersala asked dreading the answer.
“Why yes, your father insulted my coven. So I killed you, and cursed you with a form of immortality.”, The woman said so casually.
Mersala screamed and ran from the house, but she went no where. Every path lead back to the unaltered manor and caused more panic.
“My name is Cyra. I thought you’d like to know, considering you’re trapped in this dimension until I release you. Right?” Cyra said amused, and sitting on her porch.
Out of breath and unable run any longer Mersala fell to her knees losing consciousness. Cyra seeing this picked her and laid her in a couch wondering what to with her. Cyra knew that Mersala couldn’t be seen any where with a large number of nobles. She “died” and the dead rising would lead to a witch hunt and cause undue panic among both humans and mystical beings. As time passed Mersala awoke.
“My head hurts, servants bring me some elixir!” Mersala demanded.
“You’re dead to your family!” Cyra yelled from the other room.
“This isn’t a nightmare then?” Mersala said with a tremble.
“No, and quiet yourself I’m trying to brew a potent potion.” Cyra scolded.
Mersala screams and a loud explosion is heard throughout the manor. Unamused and covered in ingredients Cyra decided to throw out mersala and leave with a single magical grimoire. It Was covered in runes archaic to most, but now one of Mersala’s few possessions. With no idea on how to read this spell book she sat in front of the broken old shack facade that tricked her so easily before. Mersala got up and attempted to open the door to avail.
Mersala knew she had to change her looks and her mannerisms. Her presence in most places as she was would cause hysteria. She went to a local tavern cloaked and tried listening to hunters searching for a witch near the township. Armed with this information Mersala tracked her to lair.
“Leave me be, I’ve left you” The frightened witch said.
“No, I’m trying to learn this language, but they were going to find you here. Can you help me please?” Mersala asked.
“Give me your cloak and take me away from here.” Said the witch.
Mersala guided this poor woman to a nearby township where no one was hunting her. when they stopped the witch took her to a local sanctuary and began to teach her the dead tongue and the many dialects. Mersala took this knowledge and began to cast spells to aid her new identity. She changed her hair from brown to red, cut it to a pixie cut and turned her brown eyes to a lovely blue. Mersala relieved that she can now relax and not have to constantly follow noble mannerisms. She made herself out to be a lost maiden insearch of a job. She checked with many inns, shops, and taverns. Mersala hopes were almost gone until a man in his forties approached her.
“Would you happen to be Mersala?” Inquired this stranger.
“Who are you?” She asked cautiously.
“This would help, I’m Octavius and the witch you saved is a very good friend of mine. You could use help learning the more advanced spells. Come work at my shop and I’ll let you stay in the storage.” Octavius said with a welcoming smile.
“How do I know I can trust you?” Mersala asked.
“She’s staying with me now if you’d like to see her again.” He said insisting.
Desperate and longing for shelter she agreed and followed Octavius to his shop where he sold general wares to normal customers and potions to the magical customers. The witch she saved was a messenger with a powerful coven and her name was Archy. Octavius was more than truthful and allowed her to work at his shop. Archy approached Mersala with some questions.
Archy inquired, ”What is your situation? I mean you weren’t part of a magical household, you couldn’t read or speak our tongue” as she gestured to Octavius and herself.
Mersala answered, but it felt as if she choked on every word, “Well, it’s a long story.”
Mersala recounted every step of her journey after her meeting with the dreadful beast and Cyra. Octavius and Archy sympathized with her and explained that Cyra is the most powerful sorceress and no one can break her curses. Mersala faced with this new life has much to learn.
