Chapter 15 - CHAPTER 11: The Lady of the Lake

Morwen

The man had been chasing her through the grove, her feet carrying her further and faster than they ever had before. His footsteps echoed behind her. The sounds of his grunts and heavy breathing spurred her on, driving her legs faster and harder. The stitches in her wound reopening, Morwen could feel it start to ooze. The blood dampening her trousers.

Ignoring the pain she ran, her senses heightened, every fibre of her being focused on one thing: escape.

Morwen darted through the forest, Her survival instincts kicked into overdrive as she propelled herself through the dense undergrowth. The drumming of her footsteps filled her ears, pushing her forward. Sweat streamed down her brow, her heart pounding with every step. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw the toad-faced man, closing in on her with frightening speed. Panic surged through her veins, pushing her tired muscles to their limits.

Forcing her legs to go faster, Morwen charged ahead, the forest a blur of green and brown around her. The branches caught her as she went, pulling strands of hair out of her tightly woven braid. She cursed under her breath for not having something to defend herself with; anything to ward off this relentless pursuer.

With her breath ragged and her legs aching, Morwen charged blindly through the dense undergrowth. In her fear-fueled haste, she failed to pay attention to her surroundings. Suddenly, the ground gave way beneath her feet, and her body lurched forward. Time slowed as she felt herself effortlessly carried by gravity towards the abyss.

Wide-eyed, Morwen managed to grab onto a thick root protruding from the cliff's edge, her heart pounding so hard it seemed to reverberate throughout her body. Desperation filled her as she held on for dear life, her legs dangling in thin air. Below her, a ferocious river tore through the canyon, its treacherous rapids roaring with a primal fury.

As if sensing her imminent demise, the root began to tear away from the cliff face, sending chunks of rock plummeting into the swirling waters below.

Clutching desperately at the root, Morwen's hands bled, her nails digging into the bark.

In that moment of suspended vulnerability, her pursuer emerged from the tree line. He stood on the precipice, a menacing grin splitting his grotesque toad-like face. From his belt, he drew a dagger.

Her world spun, and her grip on the root weakened. She suddenly found herself falling, a scream being ripped from her throat by the rushing wind. Everything became a blur of sky and water. Morwen hit the rapids with a brutal force that squeezed the breath from her lungs. Water crashed over her, pulling her down, as if the river itself had swallowed her whole. Her body flailed and twisted, battling against the relentless force, desperately searching for an air pocket.

Water filled Morwen's lungs as she struggled against the current. Her wool coat weighed her down like an anchor as the unforgiving river dragged her along its treacherous path. Kicking out her arms and legs with the last ounce of strength in her body, she fought against the relentless force of the water. Occasionally, her head would break the surface, allowing her to gasp for air before being mercilessly swept back under the icy embrace.

Desperation clawed at her. An image of blue eyes flashed through her conscious mind, a haunting presence that seemed to mock her feeble struggle. Fear gnawed at her insides, threatening to overpower her weakening grip on hope.

Gasping for air, Morwen fought fiercely against the current.

As she swam with all her strength.

She felt a hand reach through the river's depths, grabbing hold of her trembling wrist. Morwen's body was violently yanked, the sheer force of the pull nearly dislocating her arm. Suddenly finding herself on dry land. Still gasping for air, she collapsed onto the rocky shore, her trembling form hugging her chest, coughing up water like a wounded animal. Her lungs burned with pain.

A pair of bare feet approached where she lay, leaving behind wet footprints on the rocks. She lifted her gaze, attached to the feet stood a woman. The sun illuminated the woman's ebony skin, making her glow in ethereal beauty.

Morwen stared in wonder. Her mind reeling as she tried to comprehend what was happening.

"You're alive, thank the goddess." the woman spoke, her voice laced with relief.

Water dripped down the contours of the woman's curvaceous figure, soaking the rocks at her feet. She was thin but not to the point where it was unhealthy, her hips held hourglass curves and she stood a head taller than Morwen. Long, wet hair hung down her form like a garment, a cascade of mesmerising colour that Morwen had never before witnessed. It shimmered like black gold, sunshine dancing in the darkness. In the depths of Morwen's exhausted mind, a flicker of recognition sparked, as if she had glimpsed a goddess of the river, risen from the depths to save her.

The woman extended a hand towards Morwen, her touch gentle and strangely comforting.

"I'm Ophelia," the Woman spoke, her voice so beautiful it rang like a siren's call.

Morwen blinked several times, thinking perhaps she was dead, and this naked goddess was here to guide her soul to the underworld.

"Am I dead?" Morwen's body trembled as she spoke.

"Not yet, my lady." Ophelia nodded her head towards the river. "Though if I had not saved you, you would be."

Ophelia's words washed over her like a warm blanket. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as her body finally started to relax, her heart rate gradually returning to normal.

"Thank you," Morwen's voice came out weak and raspy, her lungs still burning with pain.

So many questions filled Morwen's head, "you're naked," was all managed to croak out, her throat still sore from choking on river water.

"Yes?" Ophelia replied with a smirk. Her voice sounded like the most melodious songbird in existence.

Morwen's cheeks flushed with heat, her face reddening as if she had been out in the sun too long. 

The Siren looked down like she was scanning her figure for the first time. The breeze tousled her hair, framing her delicate face adorned with high cheekbones and full, sensuous lips. She was a creature of unearthly beauty.

Ophelia turned her gaze to the river, bending gracefully at the waist as she reached into the water. Her fingers danced along the surface, as if in an intimate conversation with the river itself. And then, like a magical gift from the depths, she emerged with a long gown, the colour of deep emeralds. Its fabric shimmered in the fading light. Easily slipping the gown on, the sight left Morwen breathless. The emerald fabric hugged her curves, accentuating her siren allure and creating an iridescent light that seemed to radiate from within her. she turned to a frightened-looking Morwen.

"Come," the goddess beckoned, "We need to get you dry."

Opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water, Morwen didn't know what to say, eventually just nodding her head. The cold bit into her skin, causing her to shiver.

"You might die of shock, and then me saving you would have all been for naught," Ophelia almost sang with her soft voice.

With gentle guidance, Ophelia helped Morwen up the riverbank, into a hidden grove nestled between towering trees. As Ophelia led the way through the woods, her stride was confident and graceful. As if in a dream, Morwen followed the river-woman. Eventually, they arrived at a small clearing. The air felt different here, electric with magic. A quaint cottage sat at the centre, its roof sloping gracefully. Morwen had heard stories of witches who lived in cabins in the woods and fed on children, the thought sent a chill down her spine.

Inside, the cottage was a tranquil haven. Rustic wooden furniture was adorned with cosy blankets and plush cushions. Soft candlelight flickered, casting warm shadows on the walls. The crackling fireplace emitted a comforting warmth as well that infused the room. It felt like stepping into a storybook.

Ophelia motioned Morwen towards a plush armchair by the fire. The shimmering gown she wore seemed to reflect the dancing flames, casting a mesmerising glow. Morwen sank into the chair, enveloped in the softness and warmth.

As Ophelia busied herself preparing a restorative herbal tea, Morwen's eyes wandered to the walls of the cottage. Intricate tapestries depicting ancient myths and enchanting landscapes adorned each surface. This was a place steeped in lore and magic.

The tea arrived, steam curling upwards, and Morwen gratefully accepted the cup, its heat seeping into her hands. She took a sip, feeling the warmth travel through her body, chasing away the remnants of fear and cold.

Silence fell between them, but it was a comfortable silence. In this magical nook of the world, Morwen felt a newfound peace settling over her, like a balm for her wounded soul.

"I don't know who you are, Ophelia, or why you saved me," Morwen finally spoke. "What are you? Are you going to eat me" she still wasn't sure what to think of her apparently inhuman saviour.

Ophelia smiled, "I only eat the ones I don't like," her eyes sparkling with wisdom. "And who are you? I told you my name, you haven't offered yours."

"Morwen, my name is Morwen." 

"Morwen," Ophelia repeated the name, her voice as smooth as honey.

Ophelia kneeled down beside Morwen, grabbing her hand. As their hands connected, a jolt coursed through her veins, a raw surge of energy like ice cascading down her spine. Ophelia's touch momentarily startled her.

Closing her eyes, Ophelia assumed a posture of deep concentration. Her lips mouthing words unfamiliar to any tongue known to mankind, she invoked ancient incantations that vibrated through the damp air. The atmosphere itself seemed to quiver under the weight of her whispered sorceries.

A tangible shift began to permeate the surroundings. It started as a subtle convergence of forces, the mingling of ethereal and corporeal essences. Slowly, the air grew thick, heavy with moisture, as though the very fabric of reality altered its composition. The atmosphere became pregnant with anticipation, a prelude to an arcane ritual only Ophelia could unleash.

In that charged moment, Morwen felt as if a supernatural river coursed through her veins. The liquid energy poured into her bloodstream, spreading like tendrils, reaching every extremity. It was a sensation both alien and exhilarating, akin to tiny electrical sparks igniting her being.

As the energy surged within, Morwen's senses heightened, catching glimpses of a world beyond sight. Colours grew deeper, language of the wind more discernible, and whispers of forgotten tales brushed against her ears. 

suddenly, the energy dissipated, leaving her cold in its absence. Morwen's senses returned to normal, yet forever altered. As she opened her eyes, Ophelia too met her gaze, a trace of exhaustion lining her face. Silver inked lines marked her skin slowly faded. The task complete, she released Morwen's hand, leaving behind a faint residue of lingering magic.

"What did you do to me!" Morwen quickly moved out of Ophelia's reach for fear she might touch her again.

"I healed your wounds," she said, nodding towards Morwen's leg.

Reaching down Morwen touched her leg where the wolf had bitten her. To her surprise there was no pain. This woman didn't resemble the witches from the stories Morwen had been told, but as she looked at her, she knew there was no other explanation for the magic she had just witnessed.

Curiosity tingled within Morwen's mind like a delicate whisper, urging her to find answers.

"How did you do that?" she voiced her wonder, gesturing with her arms towards Ophelia's person. "The energy healing and the dress from the lake?"

Ophelia shrugged nonchalantly "Magic," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of playful mystery, before adopting a more serious expression. "I'm the lady of the lake; a siren. Magic flows through me like water in a river" Her arms danced through the air gesturing the motion of flowing water.

"But how?" Morwen shook her head, feeling a sense of wonderment

Ophelia smiled softly, her eyes shimmering like the surface of a tranquil lake at twilight.

"We are all born with a little bit of magic in us, some more than others. It just needs to be awoken. Though it always requires a sacrifice. For me It all started many years ago,"

The room grew quiet, the only sound the crackling of the fireplace. Ophelia closed her eyes, as if recalling the memory, her expression a mixture of melancholy and joy.

"I was young, not much older than you," she began, her words flowing like a gentle river. "I was in love, too young to truly understand the depths of such emotions, of course. My lover, a handsome and charismatic man. He swept me off my feet, promising a life filled with adventure and romance. We made plans to run away together, to escape our dreary lives and explore the world. It was a naive dream, but I was young and foolish, and I believed he would never hurt me.

"On the day we were supposed to leave, my lover did not come. I waited for hours, my heart breaking with every passing minute. I learned that he was promised to another. His betrothed was of noble birth, whereas I was not. A union between us would bring no status or fortune, and so, he had betrayed me, choosing the security of wealth over the passion of our love." She revealed, her voice tinged with an underlying sorrow. "Overwhelmed by unbearable pain, I threw myself into the lake. Water filled my lungs, and the world went black. But instead of dying, I woke up again. The water had claimed me."

As she spoke, the scenes vividly unfolded within Morwen's imagination – a young girl consumed by heartbreak, casting herself into the depths of an enchanted lake, only to be reborn anew. Ophelia's words carried with them the weight of centuries, as if she had bridged time itself.

"That is when the magic woke up inside me," Ophelia continued, her voice filled with a bittersweet reflection,

Morwen stared, stunned, as Ophelia continued her story.

"At first, I was angry, cursed with a fate worse than death. I raged against the universe for my misfortune. But over time, I learned to embrace my new life. I found solace in the depths of the lake, in the knowledge that I would live forever.

"You are immortal?"

Ophelia nodded.

Silence settled between the two women, the weight of Ophelia's tale hanging in the air. Morwen glanced at her, her eyes filled with a newfound understanding and admiration.

"So you're not a witch?" Morwen said voicing her earlier thoughts.

"Oh gods no, you insult me," Ophelia replied, clutching her chest and feigning shock. "But I am curious, how did you find yourself in the river?" she asked

Remembering the attack, Morwen's thoughts went back to her brother. Zack, she hoped he had gotten away alive. The image of his brave face flashed before her.

I need to go back and find him, was her first thought.

But what if those men were still out there? Biting on her bottom lip, she contemplated the best course to take, unaware that she had completely ignored Ophelia's question. It wasn't until a pointy finger jabbed between her eyes that she snapped out of her stupor.

"yes?" Ophelia drew her eyebrows together, her lips turning into a frown. She poked Morwen's forehead again.

"Stop that," Morwen swatted her away, her mood suddenly changing. Tears sprang to her eyes, her vulnerability surfacing.

"We were attacked, my brother and I. On the road, we were split up, and I fell into the river," she explained between sobs. "Can you help me get back to him?"

"Aye, I could. Where did you say you were headed?" Ophelia wore an expression that was hard to read but carried a hint of determination.

Sceptical on whether she should trust her, Morwen vaguely told Ophelia where they were headed and why, leaving out most of the gruesome details of their journey. 

"Then I will take you to the Tribe of the River. If your brother has half a brain, he will go there too. We will look for him there, assuming he's not dead." Ophelia's words were blunt and to the point, reflecting her confidence in their plan.

"He is not dead," Morwen responded, her voice laced with unwavering conviction.

"Good, then that is our destination," Ophelia's expression softened, a hint of a smile dancing across her full lips.

She rose from the chair, the shimmering emerald fabric clinging to her as she moved. Turning to face the fireplace, she reached out her arms as if in a prayer, and then, as if the flames themselves answered her call, they rose and swirled around her. The fire roared, sending sparks flying, before receding back into the fireplace.

"Follow me," she commanded, beckoning with her hand.

Morwen followed her outside. The air was cold, the sky painted in shades of blue and purple. Stars littered the darkness above, their light shining down upon them. A path lit by tiny fireflies, guided their way, as they ventured further into the forest. The soft glow illuminated the surrounding trees, giving the forest a magical appearance.

"The tribe is a few days' walk away," Ophelia broke the silence. "We will need to travel fast and keep an eye out for your brother along the way."

"Why are you helping me?" Morwen couldn't help but ask.

"Why not?" Ophelia retorted, a mischievous grin appearing on her face.

Morwen thought about that for a moment, unsure of how to respond. She was thankful that Ophelia had rescued her and was now offering to help her find her brother. But there was something else, a nagging feeling in the back of her mind, that warned her not to trust the siren.

"I can take care of myself, you know," Morwen responded, hoping to convey a sense of independence.

"Well, you were doing a fine job of it, when I fished you out of the river." Ophelia's reply dripped with sarcasm, the grin never leaving her face.

Morwen couldn't help but laugh, realising the absurdity of her current situation. She was travelling through the forest with a siren, on her way to find her brother who might or might not be dead, after they had been attacked by a group of bandits. It was a ridiculous scenario, but the reality was that she had no choice.

"How so?"

"There is a darkness rising, I can feel it. And you, dear Morwen, are destined to play a part in it. That's why I helped you," the tone in Ophelia's voice changed, sounding grave and ominous.

"Darkness?" Morwen asked, a chill running down her spine.

"I'm not sure I understand." Morwen's voice was laced with uncertainty, her mind reeling from the implications.

"You will, in time." Ophelia's response was cryptic, leaving Morwen with more questions than answers.