There was a saying that to fight a monster, one had to beware of not becoming one oneself. However, this analogy fell apart when duty was forced onto someone without them asking or fully grasping what it meant. Normally, Morgana did not wander this close to the Wyldwoods; however, this forest and the Silent Forest, her own chosen place of hiding, were so close together that their boundaries ended up blurring. And ever since the Aspect of Recompense had spotted signs of occult activity, she had decided to keep close tabs on it.
What Morgana saw deeply saddened her. To hunt the darker spirits of the Wyldwoods seemed to be this group's calling. An arguably noble cause for Demacia had grown complacent when it came to dealing with the supernatural. Most people lacked the knowledge of how to protect themselves from demons and monsters lurking in the dark. But where there was a vacancy, someone would always rise up to fill it.
Unfortunately, there was a big difference between choosing to hunt demons of one's own accord and having that expectation thrust upon you. Morgana absentmindedly wrapped her hand around one of her chains, heavily binding her wings to her back, making it almost impossible to spread them out properly. She knew what it was like to have expectations placed upon you while you were still in the cradle. Mihiria might have never said her expectations out loud, but her gifts spoke loud and clear. Ever since she could remember, Morgana had been straining against what she could wield, forcing her feet into the cool soil before she ever opened her wings.
It was her luck that she had never died for those expectations. However, it seemed the children being thrust into the Wyldwoods were not given such luxury. As Morgana watched ritual after ritual, her ominous purple eyes locked onto a little child - a boy's spirit, marred with a girl's soul, trapped in a body, which could be either - who had found themselves forced into the ritual by none other than their own mother. The Aspect wanted to show herself, pull the child away to safety, but her self-imposed exile held, even as she watched the youngling buckle, scream and spasm as runes were carved into their flesh with a silver nail. They had then been sent away into the woods, still bleeding, still high on emotions, still vulnerable and open. It was a test, and Morgana wrestled with herself.
She kept following the blonde woman with the heart of a boy. It was unclear how Morgana managed to keep pace, always staying out of reach. She watched as the young girl-boy made their way through the woods, across beaten-down paths, over gnarly, thick roots and underneath branches with thick, wet leaves stroking their shoulder blades. The red of the wounds sang through the air, calling demons from far and wide. So far, her little protegee handled themselves just fine; however, Morgana knew things would not stay like this. Eventually, something more dangerous than a shadowy dog would find its way towards them.
After a particularly exhausting brawl, the young, freshly made monster hunter dropped to their knees by the riverbed and dumped their hands into the water, splashing their face. That back had only recently stopped bleeding. Morgana sighed softly. Looking around the bushes, she spotted the red flowers of a poppy in bloom. Picking it out, she cleared out the seeds until she had a small handful of them.
Morgana stepped out of the brush and headed over towards the river. Her chains clinked against each other. Her wings rustled in their confinement. Her dress swayed in the rhythm of her steps, deep purple with fur along its edges. Stopping beside Corvinna Locke, Morgana held out the poppy seeds and said, "I know this won't help much with your test, but maybe it makes the first night easier."
Everything hurt, and tears ran down Corvin's face. No, Corvinna! He immediately shut down the name her mother gave her, trying to remember what she believed inside. I'm a girl, I'm a girl! but, he had to be a boy. Had to be her son. Yes, she… he, needed to make her proud! His arm rubbed against his face, trying to push away the tears only to smear blood over her face and she sobbed silently even more. He had to keep moving. He didn't know which way was home, being dropped blindfolded and his wrist tied and he had to find a tool.
The ritual burned into his skin, each blade carved a curve, a line, a mark. All he could hear was his mother's whispers under her breath as she cut into him. "You better not make a sound, do not insult our family name. You are a man, and you will act like one. Hold your tongue, you better bite it off before you cry or scream," And under her… no, his silent breath he nodded and said 'yes mother'.
Now, all he had was himself, and the giant nail in his hand. It must have belonged to some traveling Merchant and dropped from a cart. It was a bit old and rusted, but still useful.
She ran through the woods, knowing the dangerous that lingered around every tree trunk and pool of water. Stay alert, Stay alive. Bring suspicion as a weapon and trust nothing. No one is a friend, everything is an enemy. Corvinna knew the blood would pull not just predators but demons from the woods. Her pain would call like a sweet platter of delicacies to the hunger of these creatures. Then there were the corrupted monsters, creatures turned by the darkness of the wyldwoods. And then, the predators, wolves and bears, snakes, natural creatures untouched by the darkness.
Each step cut into her feet, as she gritted her teeth. Don't cry, hunters don't cry. What did Niles saying. "Chin up boy, you won't be a hunter like Shauna if you keep joking around. One day your silliness will get you killed; faster then thorns piercing your feet," WHY DID NO ONE WANT HER? Boy. Son. Failure. Useless. Pathetic.
That anger lashed out as she killed a wolf she tangled with. She had to survive! Not for her mother, not for Niles, not for anyone else….
Well, she would survive for Shauna. She couldn't leave her alone. She didn't care what these hunters and occultist said; being a lone hunter would lead to death. Caring for someone could not be the end of the world. Shauna brought such light, such hope; the only one who called her a girl! who liked her as a girl. She would survive for her, she had to. No one else would, and she would not let her be alone.
Dropping down to the water's edge, Corvinna looked at her reflection. Blood streaked across her cheeks and nose, blood crusted all over her chest and shoulders. Her body shivered involuntarily, the pain burning down to her bones. She inspected the water, making sure it was no poisoned or cursed and started to splash it over her face, washing her hands. But a sudden sound caused her to jump up, grabbing her nail and growling.
"No, no, this is a trick!" Suspicion crept over Locke's eyes, staring at this winged woman. A demon must know she prayed to her often. Just talking to the winged protector, seeking a calm and hope to know she wasn't alone. Kayle was the one of justice, righteousness. Locke didn't think the white sister would feel the loneliness as people flocked to her like swans. But the Veiled Lady, people were silent of her. Perhaps, Morgana was just as lonely as this little girl forced into a world she didn't want to be in. A demon must notice, feeling the safety Corvinna felt around Morgana. "Lies… tricks…"
Yet, Corvinna stood there for a moment, staring at Morgana. Something shimmered, just barely around her form. She didn't feel like a demon, move like one. Her mother would condemn her immediately for even thinking she could have help. Corvinna should reject all help given to her; a hunter survives on their own. "Your… not a demon," Corvinna said, and looked confused at her own words. How did she know? She wasn't sure, but she could sense something, something not demonic.
Carefully the young occultist took a few steps forward, and reached out. "You aren't a lie, I don't…. your real?" Looking down, she noticed the poppy seeds. "These are used in herbal medicines and salves in my home," With such gentleness, Corvinna took them from her hand and made sure they were clean before chewing on them.
"Are you the real Winged Protector? Or, am I just… imagining this? Maybe a spirit that looks like her?" Corvinna asked, hoping to hear the truth. To many spoke lies; poisoning the ears of so many. Even this young hunter had to be careful not to let the words stain her soul; sometimes she wasn't successful as the pain made her hate herself.
