Moyra’s Tale, Part 3

Her world is dark, a sea of black that seems to extend forever and makes her feel claustrophobic. She tries to speak, to call out but her voice won’t work. Or perhaps the darkness is strangling it. The thought passes through her mind so quickly it seems to be more an instinctual feeling than anything. The darkness begins to rob her of more than her voice, and her lungs burn as she struggles to find breath. No! I won’t cave to you so easily!

She closes her eyes and pushes back against the darkness surrounding her. Her hand closes around something solid around her neck and she gradually pries it free. It does no good, and she fears she’s about to die from the invisible force strangling her. Show yourself! her mind demands.

The force recoils as her outstretched hand glows with a brilliant light. She gulps in the air, keeping her hand out to keep the still unidentified force away. Slowly she straightens as her breathing evens out, and she stares with wide eyes at her hand. Nothing appears to be on it, nothing to cause the light, and she frowns in confusion.

She raises her other hand to examine it and her frown increases. Instead of light, a darkness surrounds it. It wisps like smoke but is so much heavier, black and colder than any ice. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she whispers. She brings her hands together and the darkness suffocates the light until she separates them again.

“There are many things which will not make sense right away,” a woman’s voice floats down to her.

She looks around, suddenly finding herself standing on a green hill in a very unfamiliar place. “Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?”

A woman’s figure approaches her from the mist, slowly becoming less transparent the closer she gets. Her arms are open as she stops. “Moyra, my child.”

Suspicion fills Moyra’s green eyes as she takes in the woman in front of her. The only word she can think of that would describe her is regal. Her dress—no, gown—looks like it has been taken from a Renaissance painting, and her long black hair is bound intermittently with golden bands. “Who are you? What is this place?”

“I’m your mother,” the woman calmly replies. “Your birth mother. Oh how I’ve longed to see you, speak to you all these years.” Tears shine in her eyes, and she clasps her hands in front of her. “Your father and I were faced with a terrible choice that no parent should have to endure.”

Moyra shakes her head. “No. No…No!” She throws her hand up as if to block the words. As she does, a spear of the dark energy shoots from her hand and narrowly misses the woman before her.

“Careful, dear,” she gently admonishes. “The dark forces and shadows are nothing to dabble in lightly. They can have severe consequences.”

Moyra stares at her hands again as tears stream down her cheeks. She slowly lifts her gaze to that of the mysterious woman. “Who am I? What’s happening to me?”

The woman closes the gap between them, folding Moyra in her arms as she’s been wishing to do since she’d last held her child those many years ago. “You’re my daughter,” she murmurs softly. “And your life is about to change very drastically.”

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