Current mood:

evil

Possession
Meadhbh rolled out of her hammock and fell to her knees, the dirt floor beneath her still stained the colour of rust. The worst of her wounds, those on her back and shoulders, cracked open and began to bleed again. She'd curled into a fetal position to protect herself from their blows. It had worked, somewhat. She had managed to avoid a vital wound, but they had broken something inside her nonetheless. She moved more like a wounded animal than a human being, crawling across the floor.

Struggling, she pulled out a piece of parchment and her quill, writing furiously, her face blank and emotionless despite what she wrote.

She tucked the document into Salazar's basket, running her hand over his smooth head and then pulling out the smooth violet stone he had curled himself around.

It was time...and it wouldn't take her a coven of five this time. She would be enough. Somewhere in the between-space she'd been in for the last night she realized just what the ritual required. It needed a sacrifice, and she knew then that her blood would just have to be enough. She'd endanger no one else.

She swam to the cave, still naked, the salt water stinging her and forcing her into wakefulness. She walked, straight and unstumbling, even as every muscle screamed in pain, down to the deepest part of the cavern. The circle she'd drawn remained, the lines still glowing a faint purple. Stepping inside, she placed the stone in a small recess on the stone altar, before the pair of knives. One was unassuming and utilitarian, the handle on it white, the blade gleaming in the scant light. The other was much more sinister, its curving blade carved from obsidian, the runes engraved on its hilt taking on the same purple glint as the circle and the stone.

It was the dark knife that she lifted, holding her left arm over the altar and making a single, deep, straight cut from her wrist to her elbow, following the vein. Lifting the other arm, she did the same, holding them over the altar and chanting as her blood ran free, as her head began to swim.

Raising the knife over her head, its blade glistening, she plunged it into the stone, sliding it into the crystal as if it were soft as flesh. The light from inside spilled out around the blade in a flood, bright and violet and pure, beaming out toward the ceiling.

Even as the light broke free, the blackest smoke spilled out of the stone and over the altar, sinking to the ground and curling around Meadhbh's ankles. It appeared as if the shadows themselves had come alive, and crawled up Meadhbh's body, invading where it could. Her open wounds, her femininity, her mouth, her nostrils, all became gateways to the invading force, even as the light collected itself and tried to attack.

When Meadhbh opened her eyes, the light was long gone. The cave was dark, and that darkness was reflected in her eyes. They gleamed black and inhuman; no pupil or iris or cornea existed, they were nothing but a pair of holes behind which sat an abyss.

Meadhbh stood, her wounds closed, and smiled. It was a cruel smile, which twisted her full lips and exposed sharp teeth behind them. The creature that had taken her looked around with her new eyes, and then threw her head back and laughed.