“Mama!”
“Hm? What is it, dear?” A woman with long, silver hair turned to face her daughter with a tender smile carrying the warmth of a tight embrace. Her startling blue eyes conveyed a sense of pride and joy, but also an inkling of loneliness as if she’d resigned herself to a fate she did not desire.
Her daughter grinned, clinging onto her mother’s arm tightly. It was rare that her mother was home for so long, and even rarer that she actually had time to spend with her daughter. The child rubbed her cheek against her mother’s arm, grateful for the presence of a parental figure at last. She had no idea where her father was or if she even had a father in the first place. Ever since she was born, it had always just been the two of them.
“Mama, tell me a story! I wanna hear about the time you—”
Three sharp knocks came from the door, interrupting the child’s sentence. While she might’ve cried and complained before, this was something she had long become accustomed to. Even on days where her mother was home, work never stopped chasing her. She had no idea what exactly her mother’s job was, but fantastic stories always followed her mother home.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. Give mommy a second, okay? I’ll be right back.”
The young girl nodded, giving her mother a bright smile to emphasize that she was alright. Of course, her mother saw through the gesture with ease. It was obvious, after all. No child could truly be alright with having their mother being taken away again and again, especially during the rare moments that they could spend with each other. With a heavy heart, the woman returned her daughter’s smile with one of her own, patting her daughter’s head before heading toward the door.
“Morgana.” The door opened to reveal a short woman carrying a long and thick staff that was twice her size. Intricately carved and ornately decorated with a generous assortment of gems and precious metals, the staff was a stark contrast to the woman’s simple sense of fashion. Her gleaming eyes were that of a metallic silver, and her hair was a dark blue reminiscent of an expensively dyed leather wrap around the hilt of an equally expensive sword.
“Merlynne.” Morgana responded with an equally flat tone, placing her hands on her hips in an effort to convey her annoyance. Her bright blue eyes pierced into Merlynne’s silver, attempting to probe the shorter woman’s true intentions for visiting her abode. It wasn’t as if this was the first time Merlynne had dropped by, but her every appearance heralded distasteful news.
“How rude. Are you not going to invite me inside?”
“Why would I?” Morgana raised an eyebrow. “You know I’d never place sharp tools next to a child.”
Merlynne’s eyes narrowed, clicking her tongue in annoyance. “Is that what I am now? A tool?”
“Weren’t you always?” Morgana laughed humorlessly. “To merely breathe does not equate to living, Merlynne. I thought you would know that best.”
Merlynne paused, her eyes searching Morgana’s stone-faced expression. Outwardly, the silver-haired woman bore no hostility, but Merlynne could sense the irritation brewing within Morgana, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to be unleashed. Merlynne would not give her the chance or the satisfaction. After all, she hadn’t come to banter nor provoke Morgana.
The pitter-patter of light footsteps echoed from within the house as Morgana’s daughter left her seat, heading toward the front door in an effort to discover the reason behind the prolonged delay in her mother’s return.
“Mama? Who’s—” The child flinched instinctively as she laid eyes on Merlynne’s form, cowering in fear. She couldn’t even breathe. It wasn’t that the woman was profoundly revolting to look at, nor was Merlynne’s visage particularly frightening. Though her silver eyes and bright blue hair were certainly unusual, they weren’t nearly enough to frighten anyone.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Rather, the problem laid in Merlynne’s very existence. The child had no idea why, but she knew instinctively that Merlynne was not simply another human. Though she bore the form and shape of a human, she was undeniably something else. Something sharp and rigid, yet paradoxically flexible. Something that could be used to keep peace, but also enact terrible violence. A weapon that surpassed all others.
A blade that cut perfection and sang sorrow into the hearts of those unlucky enough to face its edge. That was what the child cowered away from, for Merlynne’s seemingly bladelike qualities despite her small stature and gentle form were simply too much for a young girl to handle. Merely looking upon Merlynne’s face made the child feel as though she were mere inches away from death.
Morgana stepped in front of her daughter, shielding her from Merlynne’s vorpal visage. “Dear, how about you head back to your room? Mommy will be with you in a bit, okay?”
The child gasped for air, her shaking body finally responding to her commands once she entered the shelter of her mother’s shadow. Still on the ground, she scrambled desperately toward the direction of her room, forgetting her desire to spend as much time with her mother as she could before the day ended. The only thing her mind and body understood right now was the desire to live, and that meant getting as far away from Merlynne as possible.
Merlynne grimaced as Morgana’s daughter disappeared behind a wall, her sharp gaze softening for a second as her eyes dropped to the floor. Her grip around her staff tightened, causing her fingers to cut through the thick wooden implement as if it were no harder than butter. The wood slowly repaired itself as it absorbed the ambient mana in the air, but that didn’t matter. The very fact that Merlynne had been able to damage it was a grim reminder of her true nature.
“...As always, you’re right, Morgana.” Merlynne said bitterly. “I... I should have just stayed as I was.”
“Perhaps so, but it wasn’t your choice to make. It was hers.” Morgana shrugged.
“So it was. Do you think I made it on the list of her many shames? Of course, I wouldn’t be able to surpass her greatest shame seeing as I was the one who redeemed her in the end, but I’m surely up there, yes?” Merlynne’s words were merely a reflection of her desperation. There was once a time when even children could look upon her without shying away, but those times were long gone. Even so, she wished she could at least garner something positive from her current condition.
“Who knows?” Morgana shrugged again, oblivious to the depths of the other woman’s emotions. “I’m not as old as you are, and I wasn’t there in the first place. Shouldn’t you be asking yourself that question? Or maybe you can ask her yourself now that you’ve decided to aid Dame Castellia with the Lake.”
Merlynne snorted derisively. “Don’t even get me started with that. She’s just foisting off her responsibility onto me because she doesn’t want to deal with everything it entails. I shouldn’t have anything to do with it in the first place.”
The two women stood across from each other, separated only by the threshold of the door to Morgana’s house. A lone moment of silence fell between them, both of them knowing the other was taking the moment to imagine a future where things turned out differently. It was more pertinent for Morgana to imagine a future where she could avoid her inevitable fate, but she knew it was nothing more than a fantasy. Worse yet, she knew it was coming.
“So... What did you come here for, Merlynne? I doubt you’re here just to scare my daughter and talk about things that could have been.” Even as Morgana asked, she already knew the answer. She simply wanted to hear it from Merlynne’s lips.
There was a long pause before Merlynne responded, the mixed emotions in her eyes belying the internal turmoil that she fought. Even so, Merlynne knew it was something that must be said. Something that must happen, else the world itself would come to a close. She touched a hand to her chest, the place where her heart should have been if she had one in the first place.
“...It’s time, Morgana.”
“...Already?”
Merlynne nodded somberly. “Yes. Tonight, she intends to begin the ritual of parturition. We must stop it at all costs.”
“I understand...” Morgana replied simply. She wished she could say more, but she didn’t know how to express the tempest of emotions and regret that swirled within her.
“We need the power of your Oath.”
“This will be the last time,” Morgana said.
“...Yes. This will be the last time.”
Without another word, Morgana stepped out of her house and closed the door behind her. She always knew this day would come. She just didn’t think it’d be so soon.
I’m sorry, Medrauta. Mommy... can’t be with you anymore.