The air in the Wastes of Callum was still, but it was not the stillness of peace. It was the silent dread that crept into one's bones, carried on the remnants of long-dead screams. The sky above was dark and swirling with the bruised colors of twilight, but there was no sun to be seen. It felt as if the world had been locked in a permanent dusk, an endless limbo where time had ceased to exist.
Morganna's crimson robes seemed almost to glow against the barren landscape, a stark contrast to the grayed and desolate land. Her fiery hair whipped around her face, and a smirk danced on her lips. This was the kind of place she thrived—a land where even nature had turned against itself. The Wastes held power, old and deep, and if anyone was cunning enough to claim it, that power would be hers.
Lucian trailed behind her, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow. He had insisted on coming, though he clearly questioned his decision now. His hand rested nervously on the hilt of his sword. The oppressive atmosphere seemed to whisper promises of horrors lurking just beyond his sight, something even his noble upbringing had not prepared him for.
"Tell me, Lucian," Morganna drawled, her voice carrying through the thick, unnatural silence. "Do you know why I brought you here?"
He gulped, his voice almost lost in the void. "I assumed it was not my place to question the whims of the Crimson Witch."
Morganna laughed, a sound sharp and cold, echoing off the dead landscape. "Oh, Lucian, ever the obedient little lapdog." She turned to face him, her golden eyes blazing with delight. "No, we are here because I need something. And you're about to learn exactly what kind of lesson the Wastes hold for a man who seeks power."
The ground beneath Lucian's feet shifted, and he stumbled back as the earth cracked open, spilling a pale light. Morganna raised her arms, and her Chaos Magic twisted out of her fingers in spirals of deep red, penetrating the crevice. The light twisted and writhed as though it had a mind of its own, thrashing against the chaos that threatened to ensnare it.
Lucian watched, entranced and terrified. He felt the darkness pressing on his mind, Morganna's magic seemingly alive, chaotic but mesmerizing. He tried to avert his eyes but found he could not; her power demanded his gaze, and it rooted him to the spot. He had seen Morganna destroy entire armies without breaking a sweat, but this was different. This was not destruction—it was possession.
A guttural rumble reverberated through the cracked earth, and suddenly, with a roar like a thousand dead voices screaming at once, something clawed its way out of the abyss. It was a creature unlike anything Lucian had seen. Tall, thin, with limbs far too long, and a face that seemed to blur every time he tried to look at it directly. The being's form flickered in and out of reality, a twisted mockery of what once might have been human.
Morganna looked up at the creature, her expression unreadable. She tilted her head, examining her prize, her smirk widening as the beast bowed its head before her, acknowledging her as its master.
"Welcome, oh spirit of the desolate earth," Morganna crooned, her voice like silk laced with poison. "You have slept for long enough. Now rise, and let us strike fear into this land once more."
The creature opened its mouth, and the sound that emerged was almost beyond comprehension. It was an echo of despair, a cry for the dead, an acknowledgement of the forgotten past—and, somehow, Morganna twisted it all into laughter.
Lucian fell to his knees, his body trembling from the weight of the being's presence. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the sensation of the creature's power pressing against his very soul. When he dared open them again, he found Morganna staring down at him, her gaze full of a mix of amusement and warning.
"Do you see now, Lucian? This is what true power is. It's not about control, or order, or the weak rules your noblemen follow. True power bends the world, breaks it, and reshapes it in the image you see fit."
She waved her hand dismissively, and the creature shrank back into the earth, disappearing as quickly as it had come. The ground sealed itself, and the ominous light faded, leaving only a memory—one that Lucian knew would haunt him until his dying breath.
"Get up," Morganna commanded, her tone leaving no room for disobedience. "We have much to do, and this is but the beginning. The Wastes are full of old secrets, and I intend to claim them all."
Lucian pushed himself to his feet, legs still trembling. He glanced at Morganna, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. "You toy with things that shouldn't be disturbed, Morganna. There are powers that even you should fear."
Her laughter was sharp and cruel, like a blade slicing through the darkness. "Fear? I think not, Lucian. The world is afraid of me, and I intend to keep it that way."
She began to walk forward, the landscape seeming to shift around her as if even the Wastes themselves bent to her will. Lucian followed, reluctant but resigned. He had seen what defiance brought in Morganna's world—an existence filled with pain or worse.
The Wastes continued to stretch endlessly, the bones of long-dead creatures scattered across the blackened ground. But as Morganna marched forward, it almost seemed as if color returned to the world. The air grew heavy, not just with dread but with a brewing storm of her own making. She had awoken something in the heart of Callum, and as always, she intended to use it to her own ends.
Ahead, the ruins of an ancient fortress rose, its silhouette broken and imposing. Shadows moved within its walls, and Morganna's golden eyes gleamed with anticipation. She turned her head, her lips curling into a wicked smile.
"Let's make this fortress ours, shall we?" she said, her tone dripping with malice.
Lucian swallowed hard. He knew what that meant. Whatever lurked within those ruins—whether restless spirits, forgotten beasts, or something far worse—they would bend to Morganna's will, or be torn apart.
Morganna stepped towards the fortress, her laughter echoing as she raised her hands, crimson magic crackling in the darkening air. The earth seemed to pulse beneath her feet, and the ruins shuddered in response, as though they were acknowledging their new mistress.
"The Symphony of Chaos has only just begun," she murmured, her voice full of dark promise.
And the Wastes of Callum—a place where the world itself had already surrendered to despair—were about to become the staging ground for her next act of destruction.