The swamp seemed to be an entity all on its own. The trees were tall and wide, boisterous trunks swayed back and forth - as if the ecosystem was breathing, in and out, out and in. Many beasts called out from the swamp’s belly. The messages from the beasts varied much like a busy city market, after a while each noise seemed to be an addition to that of a roar, growing louder and wilder - soon deafening to any who dared venture closer to the marshline.
The wind whipped about the trees, culling the tall grass that grew at the base of each one - bending it further and further almost to the point of snapping, and yet they would spring back upward, tall and attentive. Abhora stepped onto the cobblestone path, it’s stones weathered and missing many of its brethren - making the path appear foreboding and lost to the ages. Before venturing too far the elf lifted her feet from her heels, leaving them behind as some sort of token for whoever was to wander upon them, if anyone ever would. Abhora stopped at the marshline, the warm waters licking at her bare toes, the Duckweed and Mondo grass tickling at her ankles. The cobblestones lead down into the water’s depths. Abhora’s milky, blue eyes scanned the treeline, her strawberry colored hair danced along the breeze, it was nothing of its usual stature - it was wild, and untamed - it whipped about her shoulders like a serpent dancing before its prey. A deep, cleansing breath slipped from the witch’s mouth as she knelt down, her knees breaking into the waters below her, the submerged flora curling around her.
“ With this air I cleanse myself..” she leaned her head back, as she spoke softly, the wind whipped around her, a swirl of leaves and tall grass surged around the witch for but a few moments.
“With this fire I cleanse myself…” with her head still leaned back, she swayed from side to side, feeling the energy surge about her, suddenly a purging flame erupted from the palms of her hands.
“With this earth I cleanse myself…” she then reached into her pockets, and as she pulled her fists out she threw her arms about - spraying the area with salt.
“With this water, I cleanse myself…” she reached her hands into the waters before her, she then collected enough to fill her palms, then reached upward - she released the waters onto her face - baptising herself within it’s cool streams of droplets. The waters rippled around her, the energy surging once again.
“ All energy that no longer serves me, or my purpose - leave me. I thank you for your aid, and now I release you.” As the witch finished her spell the energy seemed to make its presence known once more, erupting from her once again, the roar that echoed from the swamp’s belly quickly silenced. It was aware of the magic that was being dealt.
After several minutes Abhora picked herself up, and slowly made her way through the marshes, it’s calm waters rippling around her legs. As she broke through the treeline the silence of the swamps seemed to be even more worrisome than that of the roar which commanded it previously. The elf continued on anyways, her robes skimming along the waters. After following the path before her for quite some time the marsh would turn into solid ground, her feet dug into the mushy soil as she glanced about the area - unsure of where the Abbey was. She thought to herself, “The boy was confident that the Abbey was within this area of Bogwater…” she hummed to herself for a moment before a giggle slipped out as she thought about the boy wanting a palm’s worth of salt, and a claw from a lynx as payment for showing her the path to the Abbey. The witch shook the thoughts from her head as she came to a clearing, the trees began to thin, the forest grew brighter - but only by a smidgen. Suddenly, and without any warning the roar of the swamps screamed out once again. Abhora staggered forward, her foot caught onto something and she barreled out of the forest, she raised her hand outward to catch herself though she missed, the elf would roll into a rock with a loud thud. Abhora laid flat on her back as she stared out at the sky, the dimming swampland sky appeared a faint yellowish brown, clouds scattered across the way.
“What am I doing here?...” she thought to herself, “You would never seek advice and knowledge from a group known as the Brotherhood in your youth - you’re of Quel’dorei blood, mother would be disappointed…” The elf stared at the clouds, more focused this time, perhaps the focus would draw her attention away - alas it would not. “ Mother...what would she think of me now? Would she…” her throat would tighten, her eyes began to swell, “ Minn’da...forgive me Minn’da…” Abhora’s throat closed, her eyes swelled even more so, the tears ran down her face, trailing down the side of her head, curling about her ears and onto the ground. This fit of anguish would last several minutes, eventually she would collect herself. “The path is often dim and full of horrors, though the secrets that lie within may prove worthy.” she whispered to herself, a mantra that her own mother used to tell her. Abhora pulled herself up and off the ground, tendrils of her hair clung to the knap of her neck, her eyes were wide and filled with wonderment. Much to her surprise, a massive building stood alone within this clearing, it sat in the middle of the valley. It’s stones may have once been a beige but, the stones were weathered and stained. Many of the foundation stones looked to have been recently repaired, though it still appeared as if it could be empty, forsaken, a memory. The Abbey had, what once could have been two towers but only one sibling had survived, along the side of the building would be an overgrown platform, many various flora had taken over the stones that formed it. Abhora would stand before the abbey, taking it all in. What a strange place, perhaps this was once an Abbey, but it couldn’t be any longer.
She sighed softly as she wiped at her face, the back of her hand smearing under her eyes. From the corner of the eyes she saw something. Her long, slender ears flickered as she scanned the area - not catching notice of anything.
“Show yourself.” she commanded to what seemed to be nothing.
A figure stepped out, and into the doorway. They wore a dark colored robe and a white, apothecary style mask. They stood silently, calmly, irritatingly.
“I presume you’re a member of this Corvidian Brotherhood? I also have come to know that you’re looking for me, Abhora Cloudbane….” she called out.
The figure made no sound, no answer, no reassurance. “It seems as though your abbey is no longer functional - perhaps your order has...moved recently? Is, is there a new abbey?” she asked, her eyes returning to the stained, broken stones that misshapenly held the building together. No response.
After some time the figure turned and walked further into the broken abbey. Their robes swept the stone floor behind them, swaying from side to side until they disappeared within it’s dark halls. “The path is often dim, and full of horrors…” Abhora thought to herself as she released a cleansing breath before stepping into the abbey. Her bare feet clung to the stone floor, with each passing step her feet would slowly peel off the stone, and cling to the next. As she ventured further and further into the seemingly abandoned abbey she would take notice of the faded stain-glass windows, their designs - how they sparkled against the interior stone walls, their faded colors seeming to all meld together. The abbey was filled with many halls that seemed to go on forever, twisting and turning, each one joining another as if it was all but a massive maze. With the twilight night arriving one would notice the already dim hallways darkening.
Abhora would snap her fingers, she then murmured a simple term “Aralalr.” (Flame) an orb of flame erupted into existence, it hung above her head like a fond, familiar friend - it illuminated the halls - the light it spread licked at the stones, serpents of light curled and searched about the walls of the abbey. The elf further wandered within the twisting halls, soon she began to hear a low hum, as she ventured further the humming would grow, it grew louder, and began to encompass the whole abbey. Abhora would come to a sealed doorway, from the inside voices continued to ring out, a collected choir of voices searched and filled every space within the abbey, it took all the witch could muster to hold back the noise within her mind. It seemed similar to that of laboratory rat in a maze, searching, curious, adamant to find the final part of the puzzle, to finish what it had started. The voices pushed at her mind’s barrier, searching for the final piece to break it, to consume it. Abhora pushed at the door, the wooden frame rattled against its hinges - bound and incapable of being opened with such minor means. “ Baise!”(Open!) she shouted. “ Baise!” though it seemed such a simple spell would not work. The more she tried to use such spells, the louder the choir sang out, her body would begin to weaken, she struggled to keep upright, her focus was dwindling, her flame familiar would begin to falter, it’s bright light dying, it quickly faded into a simple ember - and then nothing. Abhora fell to the ground, her body no longer having the endurance - “What magic is this?” she thought to herself. Her mind’s barrier had been breached, the siren’s call of voices broke through - it ensnared her mind, her magic - her being. As the witch’s mind began to fade, her eyes grew cloudy, she began to murmur, “ I-ilda, Ilda onos a-andus, dela na…” ( M-mother, Mother of witchcraft, guide us.) As her vision faded, the ensemble of voices would become a soothing tone, an inviting one, one as familiar and, and safe as a mother’s bosom. Then, a pitter pattering of someone’s feet grew louder, drawing closer until the door was unlocked.
“Awaken.” a deafening deep, and hoarse voice called out. Abhora stirred for a moment, her face cold, and clammy - it stuck to the stone floor. Her eyes would flutter open, her vision slowly coming to - as the moments passed, she could muster enough knowledge that she had been dragged into the room and left there until she was awoken.
“It seems as though you have freely wandered about our abbey - and yet - I do not recall inviting you inside. Quite….abrasive if you ask me.” A voice rang out once more, this time it clung to the walls, filled the room, it was loud, it was proud, it was demanding. Abhora laid there, still, still not quite convinced that she had been duped. After a few more moments Abhora would begin to sit up, her cheek peeled off of the stones below her.
“If we are going to be discussing niceties I would like to bring up whatever magics you used to one, lure me, and two, bring me down.” Abhora looked quite rough, her face was covered in dirt - her hair wild and wisped about like a tangled bird’s nest. Robes clumped together like that of an old kitchen wench’s towel. She looked broken.
The voice remained silent. Abhora glanced around the chamber, she would begin to notice it was not just the two of them within this room. The room’s inner walls were covered by that of dark robed inhabitants, their faces concealed by that of white Apothecary masks. “G-get on with it. Whatever it is you wish to do, you might as well do me a favor and make it quick.” Abhora shouted, a tinge of fear in her eyes.
“We do not wish you any harm, We intend to make you better. Often we break a bone so that we may strengthen it. A bone that has been broken is made stronger for it, and so will you.” This voice was young, feminine, and alluring - it called out like a siren, it wrapped you in it’s arms and pulled you near. “ You have passed the first trial - you were lured by that of your curiosity, and thus you sought answers. Now, it is time for the second, a trial by fire of sorts. I am sure you being a witch will be fond of such. Now, stand.”
Abhora pushed herself off of the floor, her feet staggered which caused her body to sway. “W-what is this trial by fire?” I...J-just tell me.” the witch still appeared to be drowsy. The robed figures held out their hands - their hands open, palms facing the center of the room, facing Abhora.
“Face what is to come, and we shall see.” Yet another voice rang out ,this time it was manic and quick - as if speaking to themselves. Suddenly the figures began to chant, their voices melded together, their bodys swayed but their hands stood firm in place. After a few moments the stone chamber began to rattle and quake - it shuddered Abhora’s body - she attempted to stand tall but her feet would struggle to keep her upright. A strange blue magic began to appear, it spiraled about the room, it danced among the stones of the ceiling until it swooped from it’s haven above and floated before the witch, her face became illuminated by the wisp. The magical wisp continued to manifest into something greater as the choir of voices continued onward. It shifted and morphed into something, familiar. Abhora would soon realize this was old magic, this was something of forgotten knowledge, lost to many. The choir rang out even louder, the wisp was nothing of benign power, it was a wraith. Its spectral arms reached out in a sort of inviting hug towards the witch, it’s dark robe concealed most of its body. Abhora would stagger backwards, her feet smacking against the stone floor.
“Deal with this entity, and you shall prove that you’re worthy.” Yet another member of the choir called out, this time it was soft and mousey. It was as if a child had been shouting it out. Abhora found her footing and then let out a blood curdling scream, “Aralalr!” Soon flames began to erupt from the witches throat - the flames lapped together, it spun and wove itself into a being all of its own accord. The being of flame hissed and sparked, it grew twice the size of the witch who conjured it. The serpent of flame protectively curled about the witch, it’s head danced back and forth - waiting to strike at the wraith. The spectral being floated silently as it watched the serpent - as the flames leaned back for a strike the wraith lifted it’s skeletal hands, its long and slender fingers pointed up at the flames - The witch’s beast would strike at the wraith, though before it could reach the being a barrier erupted from it, forcing the flames to curl back, deflecting the attack. Abhora shook her head, her eyes a fiery copper color - “Being of old, I will consume you.” Abhora waved her arms about, her fluid movements flowed like a dance, a dance only she knew. The flame serpent danced about the barrier as the witch commanded it so. It would begin to curl about the barrier, crushing it, squeezing into the magical boundaries. The barrier would crack and sizzle from the intense heat, Abhora threw her arm forward, and in doing so the serpent lunged for the barrier - shattering it - energy surged throughout the chambers. Abhora was pushed back though she dug her feet into the stones beneath her. The flame serpent faded away as the wraith’s energy erupted from the broken barrier. Abhora glanced around the stone room, the Brotherhood’s members stood tall, vigilant against the magics that battled before them. As the witch turned to return her sight to that of the wraith, the spectral being had her within its grip. The witch was forced off the ground - her throat closing, her eyes beginning to grow wide. “ Ri isdiearore isu arshaz datad shanu!”(No ghost will end my life!) Abhora thought to herself, she then reached into her robes, pulling out a small, wooden relic. She thrust her fist and the relic into the wraith’s hood. Upon contact the beast let out a shrill scream, the energies creating the beast would quickly be siphoned into the relic - thus dropping the witch from it’s grasp. Abhora fell to the ground - scavenging for air. As she collected herself she would begin to hear the shuffling of feet. Abhora looked up and saw that the robed figures of the Brotherhood surrounded her.
“We welcome you within our order.” Each member of the order stated, it started with a murmur and it grew louder, and louder until it rang throughout the chamber. Abhora, shocked, weak, and unable to do much more would nod in agreement.
“You are now one of us, and we are you. We are one, and we are no one.”
Abhora pulled herself up onto her feet, she looked at each of the masked figures before her. Her eyes bewildered and quite in awe.
“W-we are one, and we are no one…” she murmured before them. Her spirit, mind, and body had been broken and she had been made stronger for it. She looked to the others as they pointed to a door, it rattled with excitement.
“We have much to learn.” a voice rang out - Abhora nodded softly as she reached for the door handle.
