The First Dark Witch

Chapter 8 - Omens

Chapter VIII - Omens

“Wake up.”

Lenora heard the voice with its low and haggard tone. Her eyes opened to find herself in a clear and empty room. It was the attic, she could deduce. Her attic. Notwithstanding, there were some details that were too noticeable to ignore. The furniture was gone. Plants and herbs which had once dangled from the vaulted ceiling had vanished. Mabel and Esadora weren’t asleep on their bed in the corner. Lenora herself laid at the center of the room, instead of her typical spot on her straw bed, hair down and without a shift or any item of clothing to be mentioned. She felt no cold despite the bareness of her body. The air had a static atmosphere about it. Something felt off.

This isn’t real, she realized. The dreams about the banshee had always begun more or less the same as this one. With dread, her grandmother’s words remained clear. She was to not run away from the tortured soul. No matter how frightened she became.

She sat up in the dark room and began scooching herself slowly to have her back against the wall. Just as she had begun to feel comfortable without clothing, the temperature shifted to that of a frigid unpleasantness. With only the moonlight to shine some brightness into the room, Lenora saw the fog of her own breath. Chills sprouted on her arms and legs. 

The banshee was near.

Every hair on her arm stood up in anticipation. A tingle crawled up her spine. Lenora was too terrified to seek it out; too terrified to run away. In her own heightened paranoia, everywhere she looked it felt as though something had moved out of her line of sight. 

It was like something or someone had been watching her.

Lenora stopped scooting herself once she realized that the room had gotten longer and that the wall was still as distant as it had been since she had begun to move. Her blind spot wouldn’t be protected. So she would wait again until something had made itself known. She could only hear her own heavy breathing, all other sounds remained stagnant like the air surrounding her. It felt too confined in her dream despite her fear of being too exposed at its center.

A buzzing noise sounded in her ear before popping, making Lenora rub the side of her head from the ache. A window shutter closed violently with a clash, all light from the moon taken away. She could see nothing. Lenora fought the urge to scream but curled her legs under herself so that she could prop her chin onto her knees in a tight embrace. She fought the urge to run but where would she go if she had no light to guide her? 

Boom! Her body shook as a jolting sound broke the silence to her right. Boom! This time to her left. She closed her eyes at the third and loudest BOOM but once her eyes opened again, the attic was no more. She was in the middle of a brightened forest. Holding her breath, waiting for the terror to approach once more, she refused to let the serenity of the moment sink in. The scene was idyllic in comparison to the darkness that encircled her before. Standing up, still unclothed like she had been in the previous moment, she began to walk atop moss as she looked up to the trees, light beaming in pockets from the warm sun above. This was the same location where she had summoned the nuckelavee. She could see the tree with the dangling branch. The air was no longer still. All senses appeared peaceful. Calm.

Until the tingle on her spine returned.

A guttural snarl made a noise behind her. Within the same moment, the sunrays faded as a cloud blocked the daylight. Turning around, she saw flies swarm a dead creature. It was small but she could smell the distinct whiff of what it was. She walked towards it, drawn to the odor. She could feel the flies inspect her as she drew closer, unbothered by their presence. She could only focus on the dead animal.

Upon closer inspection, the animal was skinned and beheaded with only muscles showing as blood soaked the moss beneath it. The body was that of a pine marten. Lenora could feel the blood leave her face, a cold sweat breaking from her every pore. Her heart began to pound - she had no desire to look anywhere else and glanced at the animal with…

No, she thought. Not even in your dreams, Lenora. Never again.

“Wake up,” the eerie voice called out again. Lenora clinched her eyes shut. The flies buzzed with a deafening hum as they fed on the pine marten. She felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach from the dread. Deep down in her heart, she knew that the tea leaf message, the banshee’s warning, and the gargoyle’s viewpoint had all aligned. Slowly turning to look behind her, she saw the banshee lurk by a nearby tree only several meters away. The hooded figure was gray with white hair falling down just under the cloak that hid her eyes. She could only see the banshee’s lips as they dangled to show nothing but a toothless and tongueless mouth. Its nose scrunched as if to gnarl but had been unable to do so. Lenora shook, feeling the temperature drop further. She could see her warm breath mist in front of her just as it did in the attic. The banshee had no such breath and stood completely still.

Once again, she waited for the banshee to chase her down but it did not move. Lenora greatly desired to run but stood her ground. It’s only a dream, she thought. It’s not real.

The flies continued to drone on. After what felt like an eternity, the banshee did nothing. Lenora gathered enough courage and dried her throat. She would not run from it. The smell of the pine marten became overwhelming. Her finger twitched. Her nose flared.

“Wake up,” a sound called with an echo. Lenora saw the banshee’s lips move, its voice husky and just above a whisper.

Lenora opened her mouth to speak. No sound came out. Instead, she began to feel a warm trickle of liquid escape her lips. Reaching up to her mouth then looking at her hand, she jolted back at the sight of blood. Her blood. She couldn’t scream. She tried. No sound escaped. Gagging on the blood, she felt something creep upward from her throat. The banshee merely watched, an emotionless spectator.

Crouching down to her hands and knees, Lenora heaved until whatever was caught in her throat had been completely expelled. Blood dripped onto the ground beneath her as well as on her chin and down her neck. With a strained cough, she managed to get the thing that was forcing its way from her body out of her mouth as it tumbled to the ground. With wide eyes, she surveyed the blockage in disbelief.

It was a heart. With every pump, blood would spew from the open arteries. Lenora opened her mouth to scream again. This time a shrill cry broke from her throat. Tears escaped her eyes. Warm tears. 

Red tears.

She swatted at her eyelids to get the bloodied tears to stop. More crimson liquid escaped her mouth. Lenora began to gouge at her eyes and screamed mercilessly at the pain that she was now inflicting on herself.

“Two more dark moons,” an echo pierced her ears, “That is when you will die.”

Lenora continued to claw at her eyes, the pain too much that when the banshee echoed her words, she could only wish that death would take her now rather than two moon cycles away. Her eyes were nothing but shreds by the time she had finished with her gashing. Her sight was gone and there was nothing. Only her screams.

Only the sound of flies that continued to swarm, now congregating just above her discarded heart and eyes.

Only the scent of the rotting pine marten nearby.

Only the banshee.

...

“Wake up!” Lenora screamed as she glanced around in a fright. Without a shift on, she searched around herself like a maniac. There was no blood. There was no rotting animal. There wasn’t a banshee looming behind her. What had stood out as peculiar was that she wasn’t in the attic anymore but laying in the forest instead. Her teeth chattered. It was just before dawn approached and she felt a chill in the air. Her arms covered her chest. In the dream, her nakedness was a state of being. Wide awake in the middle of a forest, her nakedness was instead simply cold and revealing. She didn’t even know where she was within the Cantermar Woods. How far had she traveled in her sleep? Whatever the case was, she had traveled so deeply within the forest outside of Liriel that she was sure that finding a familiar landmark was undoubtedly probable. Without further ado, she stood up, wrapped her arms around her person again and began to limp around the forest in the hopes that she’d find a landmark soon before waltzing back into Liriel in her present state. It wasn’t even a full moon - generally, Liriens were fully clothed unless a coven celebration called for otherwise.

She meandered her way through the forest, settling on the idea that if she were to make it back to Liriel after all of the villagers had already begun their day, it wasn’t something that they hadn’t all seen before and that they already thought she was peculiar anyways. On top of those two certainties, Lenora knew of multiple ways to enter into the village that didn’t include a road. She could traipse in undetected for the most part. Either way, she’d still be the center of gossip so it didn’t truly affect her notoriety.

Lenora supposed that whatever she did in life, it simply wouldn’t matter. Any attempt of appearing conventional was impractical. 

The first light trickled from above the treetops. She continued to walk aimlessly, not recognizing her surroundings just yet. Still not worried, she kept her eyes downward, being sure to walk where she wouldn’t prickle her bare feet from the overgrowth of the forest.

The forest began to come alive with the greeting of the sun. Tiny critters began to start their daily tasks of searching and storing food. She smiled at two chipmunks that chased one another down a tree trunk. While staring at their interaction, watching their back and forth and stand-offs, a glimmer of light caught her eye as whatever it was, shined against the sunrays. Lenora’s surroundings illuminated warm hues - accentuating the spring colors that were beginning to bud. Temporarily blinding, Lenora held a hand in front of her eyes as she stepped closer to the item that had caught the sun’s attention as well as hers. Kneeling down over dead leaves that rested underneath an oak tree, it didn’t take much digging as she pulled up a neglected gold necklace from the ground by the chain. Its pendant, the source of the light playing against the sunrays, was an amber stone with a round, ornamental, gold casing sealed around it. Behind the amber, it was completely gold with an engraved rune pounded into the fine aurelian surface. Her heart stopped at the engraving. That rune was for her family and spelled “Nettle.”

This was a lost family heirloom that she was meant to find. Its fate landed in her hands and now rested over her heart as she draped the chain over her head and had it hanging from her neck.

Looking around with satisfaction anew, she took a moment to gather her bearings before treading forward. She did recognize something as her head rattled from doing a double take. In the distance behind the overgrowth of new forest leaves, she saw a large boulder. In one of her many moments of venturing into the Cantermar Woods, she was reminded of once sitting on that boulder to relax. Exposed to the sun, she had rested on it due to the heat that it emitted on that distant and cool fall day. Feeling the bitter cold of the morning still, she walked over to the boulder, its surface already mirroring the sun’s brightness from what she could see. Making her way to the boulder, she reached the side that was tilted, crawling to the top for a moment to warm up before walking the rest of her way home. She knew where she was now and making it back to Liriel wasn’t too pertinent now that she was offered some form of clarity.

Resting her back against the stone, her skin began to warm from the open air. No longer hunched over with her arms covering her chest, she raised her arms over her head to stretch out. A calmness settled over her as she brought one hand down to thumb at the necklace that rested on her chest. Staring up at the orange and pink sky, Lenora took this opportunity of repose and tranquility.

Large wings flapped just below the boulder on the other side of the rock that had fallen at a sheer drop. Eyes widening, she turned herself over to peer over the edge, half-expecting it to be the gargoyle berating her again. Glancing down, her heart lifted at the sight. There - below from where she sat at the top of a boulder - was her black-winged horse at the center of a circular rock formation as it shook its neck and let its tendrils on its spine wave dust in the air. Within the sunlight, all signs of its true nuckelavee nature had faded away with the moon. Resting on her stomach with elbows supporting her upper body, she watched as it stood with such exquisite glory.

Clicking her tongue to get the nuckelavee’s attention, she then whistled when it jolted upon noticing her presence. “It’s me,” Lenora said as if they had known each other for lifetimes. Looking at one another from their spots, neither made any sudden movements as they studied one another. It made Lenora wonder why a supposed demon-horse of the underworld would answer her summoning. If it had anything to do with her father - all signs pointing to him, whoever he was - she was still satisfied with keeping him a mystery for the entirety of her life. Why seek him out to discover more if it would only bring her pain? She just wanted to be left alone.

Alone with her familiar and her family for the rest of her life.

“Onyx,” Lenora breathed, letting that name hang in the air. The horse’s ears perked up at the name in recognition. Fighting back tears of joy, Lenora sensed a connection grow between the two of them. “Onyx. It means protector of evil,” she said softly to the nuckelavee. It whinnied in what she could imagine to be a happy reaction to what she decided to call him. She turned her body to crawl her way quickly down the boulder, wanting to interact more with the being that was sent to her.

If only it were ever that easy.

By the time that she rounded the boulder to the circular rock formations, Onyx had vanished. Dejected once again, she let out a huff of frustration and saw a shadow fly over her head. Just as she raised her head to observe, an ivory linen landed squarely on her head. Pulling on the fabric, she saw that it was a shift. Perching himself on the boulder that she had once occupied, Lenora placed the linen over her lower half, looking up to Abaddon in agitation.

“Get your shift on, woman,” Abaddon instructed, glancing down at Lenora with a resolute tone, “If I am to watch your every move until the day you die, it’s time that we have a talk.”