The Witch's Wall

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

Buried deep beneath an icy mountain, nestled away in the corner of a frozen expanse of caverns, was a well-furnished cave. It housed bookshelves made of icicles, a table formed from snow, and an impressive, throne-like chair molded out of opaque ice. Glowing crystals in the cave walls illuminated the room, each frozen surface gleaming with reflected light. One wall consisted of an expansive, perfect mirror of ice in front of a strangely comfortable looking sofa formed from snow. Half-reclined upon this couch and studying her own reflection lounged a witch with dark gray skin and frost-white hair. Her single right eye cast a pale blue glow upon the mirror - the left side of her face bore nothing more than a scarred and empty socket, the cheek marred like a frozen lake covered in cracks.

This ice witch glared at herself intently. Outwardly, she seemed still - frozen. But inside her mind raced as she intentionally delved into her past, dredging up old memories and forgotten emotions. Her intent was neither to indulge in nostalgia or self-pity, but rather to sharpen her mind and forge a shield that she might raise about herself in the case of intruders. A mental barrier. Her teacher had taught her how to enter the consciousness of others, and instructed her on the principles of building a wall around her mind. Now would come the hard work of constructing it, brick by brick.

At first the witch had thought to form her barrier with pleasant memories and happy emotions, but those proved to be rare and weak. With grim resignation, she turned to the wealth of unpleasant thoughts that dwelt within her mind, determining to start at the beginning of her life and work her way to the present.

Childhood memories were few and faded. The witch was born human in the coastal capital of Oren, in a long-ago and far-away world. Her father was a sailor, her mother a fisher-woman. She had few memories of them that remained. Her father teaching her how to swim, her mother giving her lessons about the Creator. But her mother fell ill and her father was lost at sea, and the remainder of her youth was spent in perpetual hunger and cold with her brother. Hunger. The most base of all human urges, that which could turn a civilized man - or woman - into a snarling animal. A potent feeling, and one she knew would surface again. She laid the foundation of her wall with hunger.

She cast her mind forward to another memory, far clearer this time. Her younger brother, just fifteen, had enlisted in the White Rose, a militant order of Oren. They took him in, but not before beating him near senseless. The young woman – Gabrielle had been her name – was pained to see her brother in such a state, yet she could not interfere. He passed this hazing, and asked if his sister might also find shelter in the Order's keep, perhaps as a servant. She had nowhere else to go, after all. The grizzled commander accepted.

As the young siblings were led away to be shown to their small chambers they were assaulted with degrading shouts. The pair were Southerons, humans with a darker complexion than most. Gabrielle's skin had been a rich, dark brown then, her hair jet-black. Yet the fair, blonde men looked upon her in disdain for reasons she never did understand. She had been fully human, yet even then they hated her. Amid the jeers directed at both siblings were other shouts that fell sharp on Gabrielle's ears. "Wh*re!" one man shouted, a noble she thought, not one of the hardened soldiers like the rest. "I'm talking to you, b*tch!" he yelled again, chasing behind Gabrielle as she followed her brother and the commander who led them. Neither of them took notice, and anger sparked within her. "Look at me, wh*re!" the noble hissed, catching up to her. Gabrielle spun around to face him, fists clenched. "Don't call me that!" the girl yelled back.

 

A bad decision. The man's hand struck out to slap her across the face, sending Gabrielle reeling to one side. "You dare address a man with such a tone?" the noble asked, face scowling. The blow to her pride stung more than her reddening skin. Her outrage bubbled over, and she drew back her fist to punch the sneering man squarely in the nose. A worse decision. The surrounding soldiers sided with their fellow man and were prepared to escalate the conflict even further, until finally the commander stepped in. He barked at his men to return to their business and the noble swiftly left while nursing his bruised nose. Gabrielle's brother chastised her for her foolish and rash actions. What was she thinking, talking back to a man, let alone striking a noble?

 

Brought back from the memory, Gabrielle – older, colder, and gray – could still feel the shame and outrage bringing blood rushing to her cheeks. Shame. Anger. These formed the next layer of her wall. She imagined them forming crude blocks of stone, but still only high enough for an intruder to trip over. She would need more.

 

((Started out writing some RP of Gabrielle creating her mental barrier, resulted in recapping her life story through memories. I'll be continuing this in other posts and adding it to her character bio.

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

For the next several months Gabrielle and her brother had lived and worked with the White Rose. Her brother trained, sparred, and was sent to cut lumber for the keep's construction. Gabrielle still dealt with cries of 'Moor!' and 'Wh*re!' near daily, but she learned to drown them out. She tried to find a way to make herself useful in the keep, and was directed to speak with the lead servant, Tanith. This woman was a strange case. She was a dark elf, married to one of the founders of the White Rose. The Rose were infamous for many things, but one of them was their loathing and habit of murdering dark elves. Yet Tanith was an exception, and it seemed that all of the men loved her. They loved this inhuman, gray-skinned creature more than they could even be bothered to acknowledge a pure human girl. Gabrielle never did understand it, and the confusion and hurt grew every time she saw these soldiers address the elven woman with respect and tenderness while she was meet with jeers and lewd remarks.

 

She tried her best to not offend Tanith, however. If she wanted work and a place to live she would have to ingratiate herself to the dark elf. Yet their interactions were fleeting. She tried to catch the woman's attention and ask her where she would be of most use, but Tanith seemed to avoid her, simply telling her not to touch anything. Gabrielle grew frustrated. Late one night, while she and her brother were catching up, they overheard angered yelling. Tanith told a man that she thought the Rose were trying to replace her with the new girl. The man – one of the commanders, Gabrielle believed – said that was not at all true, and the girl would be removed if needed. Gabrielle slept poorly that night, anxious with the thought that she might be thrown out to fend for herself again, all because of an elf. Yet when morning dawned it brought something far worse than what she had feared.
 

News had spread through the keep that someone had attempted to murder Tanith, though Gabrielle could not discern why. Later in the rainy morning, amidst the chaos, there was a fight outside the gate between one of the founders of the Order – Tanith's husband – and a soldier. Gabrielle and her brother watched from the wall as the leader burned one of his men alive with magical fire, then took his elven wife and left the Order. Gabrielle's brother was called out to help the others bury the fallen man. After that he came to her, announcing that he no longer wanted anything to do with the Order. And so the pair left, heading out alone once more.

 

The witch shook her head slowly, adding these memories to the wall. More shame and fear – and bitterness. Bitterness at the dark elf woman, at the rest of the humans who disdained her, at the circumstances she and her brother had been dealt by her Creator.

The witch in her lair shuddered, for she knew what memory would soon be coming.

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

The young siblings next found themselves on the isle of the elves. As much as Gabrielle resented Tanith she found that the elven folk were far kinder than her own kin. Without question or even asking for money they provided her and her brother with a home and food. The forest was warm and the ocean winds were gentle, and Gabrielle found she liked it there. But there was one sect that was not so kind. The high elves kept to their own corner of the island, locked away behind massive white walls. She approached their gates once, curious of this reclusive people. She was met at the gate by a fair, blonde man who greeted her with that all too familiar sneer.

"Dirt-skinned valah," is what he called her.

The witch added another brick to her wall.

Then she paused, taking in a breath to steel herself for what was to come. With a determined growl, she closed her single eye, and let the memories overtake her.

One evening in Malinor Gabrielle saw a mysterious figure moving through the forest. It was tall, and very thin, wrapped in a blue robe and cloak. Ever curious, Gabrielle followed the figure deeper into the trees, trying to be stealthy. She was no elf, however, and her footfalls were heard. The figure turned to face the girl, revealing a beautiful dark elven woman's face. Light and shadow around the woman moved as if it were alive, and a sphere of conjured water formed in the elf's hand as she demanded to know why Gabrielle was following her. The girl's reply was honest – she was curious – and asked about this magic that the elf was performing. The robed woman considered this human girl in front of her. With an odd smile she offered to teach her, both the manipulation of light to form illusions and the control of water. Gabrielle had known nothing of magic at the time, and the witch cringed at her past self's foolishness. She accepted with excitement.

The elf explained that in order to take the girl on as a student she would need to perform a ritual first, and asked Gabrielle to follow her into the forest. The witch grimaced as she built onto her wall. Stupidity. The pair wandered through the darkening trees. Gabrielle's stomach tied itself into knots, each step making her more nervous, yet she felt it was too late to turn back now. She imagined to herself what she could do with this magic of illusion: certainly she could make herself appear beautiful to the world that seemed to hate her. Vanity. The witch added a stone. Lust for power. The wall grew taller.

They came to an abandoned tower and went inside.

"Lie down on the table," the elf commanded, reaching within her robes. The witch forced herself to take steady breaths, watching her younger self, practically a child, climb hesitantly onto the table.

"I will need a little blood to perform the ritual," the elf said as she drew forth a dagger. "Don't worry, it will only sting a little." Gabrielle gripped the sides of the table and nodded in compliance. She began to doubt her resolve and wanted to leave, but the woman was already holding the blade above her and so she remained still and quiet. The blade made a shallow cut on Gabrielle's arm while the woman murmured reassurances. Gabrielle winced and squeezed her eyes shut.

"You're doing just fine..." the woman crooned, though her words held a hint of cruel laughter. A drop of warm liquid spattered on Gabrielle's face and the girl's eyes flew open. The dagger, its edge dripping a faint amount of her own blood, was held suspended directly above her face. At the corner of her vision she saw the elven woman, though now she appeared neither elven nor female. The illusion keeping up the guise of a dark elf had been cast aside to reveal the skeletal grin of a lich peering out from the hood. Gabrielle jolted and let out a yelp as she attempted to get down from the table, but before she was able to even raise her head the dagger struck downward, piercing into her left eye. Her vision exploded in red and white, the incredible pain causing her to scream and thrash. The lich withdrew her dagger with a cackle and shoved the girl off the table. Gabrielle huddled on the floor, gripping both hands over her bloodied eye, shuddering and writhing in pain.

The lich stalked around the table and gripped onto Gabrielle's arm. The girl cried and pleaded to be let go, all while searing pain shot through her ruined eye and blood and tears blinded her remaining sight. The lich took no heed and jabbed a sharp, bony finger into the flesh of Gabrielle's arm, carving a figure-eight into the skin. "You are mine now, and I will be coming to claim you later," the lich growled to her, then departed.

Terrified, in pain, blinded, and alone, Gabrielle managed to stumble out of the tower and back to Malinor. One of the few friends she had made in the city found her and called a healer to help. They could not save her eye, and she was left with an empty, useless socket. Her brother sat by her but did not know what to say to help his sister, and she spent the next several days lying in bed and staring at the ceiling with her remaining eye. She had been foolish, and she had lost an eye for it. Meanwhile a lich was still out there and would be coming for her. Fear. Pain. And more shame at her own childish stupidity.

The witch's wall had grown tall. She raised a shaky hand to cover up the empty eye-socket, long scarred over, remembering. The lich never did come back, but even after so many years the memory still haunted her.

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

Updated. [Reserved.]

[Elad™ 560]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.