Post by Alyson Bludwyne on Aug 27, 2017 20:20:34 GMT -5
Place: Culloden Moor, Scottish Highlands
Time: 18th July
Characters Involved: James and Alyson
She stumbled through the fire before she could do anything to stop her father and landed face first on a cold dusty stone floor. Her fingers reached out instinctively, rubbing the dust through her fingers. There was a lot of it. Where had her father sent her? Why? A low growl left her throat as his presumptuous actions. When she returned home, she would ensure such actions never occurred again. Her father he may be, but she was now a true Shadowloved and as if in answer to that declaration a delicious dark presence unfurled in the dark recesses of her mind. It flowed through her body, strengthening her. It’s voice echoed in her mind, a smooth cackle of amusement as it observed where they had landed.
“Well, this is an interesting choice of room,” it said, amused at her silent question. “Oh, you don’t know where we are? I can’t say I do either. It looks rather abandoned. There’s a door to your right though. I suppose we should try it before despairing too much.”
Alyson pushed herself up, her hand reaching out for the wall to orientate herself and then walked gingerly along it until she reached the wooden feel of what must be the door. It would surely be too simple if it just opened but as her hand pushed, it creaked as it swung wide revealing the dark grey stormy skies of the Scottish Highlands.
“Aaaah, Culloden. An interesting choice for a prison.” Alyson started. Prison?! Again that sultry laugh, “You didn’t guess? He thought you were lost like all the others. Gone mad. He thought to contain you before you killed him in your insanity. Anyway. Shall we apparate? I don’t fancy the look of those clouds over there.”
“I can’t,” Aly finally spoke aloud, her childlike voice wispy and faint.
“Can’t what? It’s simple. Just turn on your heel and imagine your home.” There was a pause as it figured out what she meant, “What do you mean you can’t do magic?! You’re a witch! Only a true Witch can succeed in the Ritual. How can you be a witch if you can’t do spells?!” the voice was suddenly no longer amused and seductive but icy and angry. Most would have cowered in terror at the darkness in their head, stormy and destructive but Alyson had spent all her life taunted about her lack of magic, had spent years controlling lesser Shadows. She would not be controlled. Her own presence rose up pushing at the black strength in the corners of her mind, forcing it into submission.
“I am Shadowloved and you will obey. I will get us home. And I will make my father rue his decisions.” Her voice brooked no argument and silence reigned once more in her mind. She wished for her little shadow as she set out forward, unsure of her path but determined as she always was. Surely there would be someone out there. Almost instantly, the skies opened and the rain fell but there was a spark of an aura on the hill and she pushed onwards in it’s direction. The thundering water washed away the blood from the Ritual so that when she finally came closer to the other poor person stuck in this torrent, she was clean. Soaked and shaking, but clean.