Dear diary,
I died. That feels very weird to write. But it happened.
I was dead.
Now I'm not.
A few hours ago, it was February 14th, 2017. There was snow on the ground and I died.
Now it is August 15th, 2016, and it is going to be 80 degrees outside today, and I am alive.
I know what happened...happened because of this journal. I didn't have it before, and the charm seems like something Death would like.
Yes, Death, she wasn't at all what I would have expected. You think of Death and imagine the image of the Grim Reaper. A tall, foreboding being wearing a black cloak and carrying a scythe.
Death was nothing like that.
Death was bright and bubbly. She wore pastels and chibi skulls. Her hair was bubble gum pink.
Certainly not what one would expect of the being who guided dead souls and oversaw the dead to be so happy.
When I first saw her, it was moments after I had died, so I was already in shock, then was even more so when I saw her and learned who she is.
She'd been there, I guess, watching over me for a while. I'm not sure how long ago she took an interest in me, but it has been years. At least it was heavily implied she'd been watching me for years, possibly since I was a child.
Apparently, it wasn't my time and the events that had taken place weren't supposed to happen.
Which I'd like to agree with, getting stabbed in the heart by a loved family member shouldn't have happened.
But it did.
There was so much that I'd learned about and never acted on in the months coming. Things that wouldn't be erased because they'd happened years ago. Like that, my powers were bound and only a powerful event could undo the binding, or a coven performing an unbinding ritual.
A powerful event like, for example, my death.
Or the fact that no one thought to explain to me that my powers were bound when my father died, because I inherited most of my magic from him and not my mother. So I had been thinking for years that I was a failure of a witch because I couldn't tap into my magic. When I literally had no access to that magic. Because my mother's family had been trying to get me to tap into the magic similar to their family, when my magic is not like theirs. Yes, I have enough of a connection that they were able to channel me, she is my mother after all, but not enough for me to do anything on my own.
They chose to try and convince me I was meant to be different and keeping me away from my father's coven that could have unlocked my magic. It should have happened when I turned thirteen, when most witches come into their magic. Instead, they neglected my magic, and me by not doing what they should have done.
Instead my power has been growing and pulsing, looking for a way out, a ticking bomb. The magic having no escape could cause a witch to slowly die an agonizing death, burned from the inside. Many witches could live an entire life and many would think they'd just died of old age. But those with more power, die much sooner.
Death revealed to me had I not died when I did, and had my magic been kept bound I would have died before I reached 25.
When I woke up in my childhood bed, I could feel a tingling under my skin, like something is waiting to burst out of me. My magic, I can feel it.
It wants to be used.
I guess there was a blessing in me dying.
But I am nervous, as Death warned me I wouldn't be alone.
Someone else died moments after me, had time not seemed frozen to me. And they are somehow important...To me.
What makes me nervous is the person who probably died, is also the person who ordered a knife through my heart.
I need to think, and be somewhere more comfortable. For the last several months I haven't felt comfortable in my home, I found out just after Christmas about my magic. I never confronted my mother or my grandmother. And both live here in this house. Both are asleep just down the hall.
What interesting restart to my eighteenth year of life…Or is it unlife?
~Lost and Confused Morrigan
I set my pen down and look over at the clock on my phone, it isn't even five yet. I woke here in this time just after three. The witching hour, how convenient a time to be brought back to life. I'm not tired, I probably should be but the sudden feeling of magic flowing through me is energizing. I need to do something and not be here.
I'm not entirely sure what I am going to do but I just need to be somewhere else. Maybe once its day light and people are actually awake I can ask one of my friends if I can stay with them.
Neither my mother or grandmother can really say anything, I am 18.
Today.
I turned 18 today; it is my birthday.
I shake my head and start to quietly move around my room. First I get dressed in comfortable shorts, t-shirt, with a sports bra. Then I throw my dirty clothes into the hamper by my door. I grab a small duffle from my closet and start tossing in a week's worth of underwear, socks, several t-shirts, a pair of sweatpants, sleep shorts, and some more shorts, and one pair of jeans for just in case. There is just enough room in the duffle for me to put my lap blanket in it as well. I tuck my laptop away into my backpack, along with a brand new sketch book I got last week in this time, I had been waiting to use it till my other one was filled. Art pencil bag, and my regular writing utensils bag. A blank notebook, my new journal.
I put my usual rings on my fingers, and decide to put the necklace I'd been given after my father past away on. He'd worn it everyday, it was given to him on his thirteenth birthday. Not sure when I'll be back, push comes to shove I can just wash the clothes I have packed should I need to.
Silently I slip passed my mothers room, and into the bathroom and brush my teeth quickly, slipping my overnight bathroom bag into my duffle. The duffle is quite full now.
When I open the bathroom door I resist the urge to sigh in relief, neither my mother or grandmother have woken yet. Their lights remain off and the house is silent. Down stairs I go missing every step that makes noise. I turn and head to the kitchen and grab a granola bar on my way to the garage door.
I slip my car key from the hook and slip out the door into the garage. I walk around the garage to the side door leading outside. This will allow me to avoid the front gate, which is rusty and possibly spelled to make a louder noise to wake people in the house.
I finally allow myself to let out a sigh of relief as I walk down the driveway. There is a slight chill as it is still dark out. I don't mind it, as I walk to my car parked by the side of the road. Tossing my bag into the back seat I shut the driver side door, put the keys in the ignition and I'm off.
Honestly I'm not sure what I am doing, but I'm more sure of leaving than I am of encountering anyone in my family. I guess dieing puts things more into perspective. Well dieing and being brought to life by a cosmic being puts some stuff into perspective.
Life is to short not to thrive.
And in the other life I lived I was existing, doing what others wanted of me and expected of me. Not this time. This time I will live, not for anyone else but myself.
Okay and maybe I'll live for Death. She did put in a lot of work for me to be brought back to life, going to Time to set the clock back. I guess I know who my main diety is. Death. Something feels wrong inside, like a tugging, when I think of only devoting myself to Death. Like there is someone else just as devoted to me as she is. I wonder if she could tell me? Why would a second cosmic being, or god, be interested in me? I'm still confused as to why Death is so interested in me to be honest.
Slowly I bring the car to a stop. Unconsiously I've brought myself to the woods. Where I was last night. Except instead of snow covering the ground there is grass and dirt.
I lean over the center counsel and open the glove compartment, I dig around and pull a flash light out. Then I grab my satchel bag, and exit the car. The sun won't be up for at least another hour if not two. I set the bag onto the hood of the car and dig around my backseat, finding a light sweater, putting it on to fight of the slight chill. With the sweater on I sling the satchel across my body, and turn the flash light on.
Lone girl walking in the woods in the dark. I'm such a horror movie trope.
Though I'm not scared. I've walked these woods thousands of times, both by myself and with others. I know exactly where I'm going, so there is no need to rush. No lives to save this early on this particular morning. Just taking in the darkness with a new perspective. About a mile into the woods, only about a fifteen to twenty minute walk to the location I have in mind.
To where I died.
The walk feels both like it is going too fast, and also like it is taking forever. My heart stutters in my chest as I reach the clearing. Witches have used it since the original founding of our town. After all a town founded by witches on the run from witch hunts would choose a space within nature. To feel the connection with the land. And this location, though ways away from the town center, is the heart of the towns founding. I know this as my mother's coven taught me the history of the town, as well as my dad's best friend, and while looking through Lilith's family grimoire.
My friend Lillith, not the Goddess.
Before I had been told about the significance of this location but couldn't really tell anything special. But now...With my powers unbound, I can feel it. See it.
The ley lines converge here, creating a pentagram through the land itself. There are five large trees, that tower above and just out of place of the others. The five trees act as the pentagram points.
They...They shimmer. Is this how my brother and sister witches see all the time? Or is it because I'm pulsing with magic that needs to be released? Magic which I don't know how to release.
I walk through the clearing to the large stone just off of center. The large stone has acted as an altar for many spells, rituals, and meetings. It was certainly used as an altar last night. Removing the satchel bag from my shoulders, I set it down on the altar. Brushing off dirt and ashes from the altar. Hopping up I take a moment to situate myself, sitting with my legs folded under myself. I hold the flash light between my lips and I start to pull things from the bag. My sketch book and art pencils.
Settling my myself comfortably, I begin to sketch. I'm not sure what I am going to sketch I just let my hand move the pencil across the paper. Allowing myself to doodle and then an image is brought to the forefront of my mind. And as if of its own accord my hand moves and connects lines, adding shading. Occasionally, I grab a colored pencil to add a bit of color.
Sitting there in the clearing over the span of an hour an intricate image is formed. The image my hand creates brings the moment to the forefront of my mind.
A Moment that I saw frozen in place as Death spoke to me.
On the cold ground, my body lay, blood pooling in the surrounding snow. As I look at the final image I've drawn, and all I can think that somehow my death was beautiful. My eyes are closed, it looks as though I was at peace, no doubts, no fears. Which I guess is sort of correct, if I hadn't been sent back through time.
My eyes lift from the drawing and land on the spot where in several months I had lay. For me it was simply last night, for everyone else it won't happen.
I feel the tug in my chest, ever so slightly like a phantom blade. My hand rests over my heart, as I remember the feeling of the blade entering my chest and piercing my heart. It was quick in reality, but for the few seconds that it took, it was painful. I'm not sure which was worse the physical pain or the emotional.
Now it won't happen, I'll make sure of it. Not to mention I don't think I'll get another redo.
Setting the sketch book down I jump off the stone altar. Lifting my arms into the air and stretching. My joints pop and snap as I stretch. I hadn't really allowed my body the chance to properly wake up this morning, going into flight mode so quickly. My body wasn't used to waking up and being on the move, at least not yet. Within the next few months it had become more used to surprise waking up and running. Hopefully not this time.
I intend to change many things, not sure if those things line up with Death's plans...Or Fate's. I guess only in time will I know. Speaking of my plans. After taking a few minutes to stretch I pull my journal and pen from my bag. I flip to a new page.
Death said that I wasn't alone, so who came back through time with me?
What potential side effects will happen?
Will my memories be rewritten as I change events?
Can this other person be trusted? I would hope so since Death went threw so much to bring me back.
Where will I go?
I do not wish to burden my friends and they also still have school. I graduated last year, early, my original plan from the other timeline was to attend an extra year at the school. But now I do not think that is what I will do. Not this time.
Who can I tell?
Can I commune with Death to ask questions? Will she even answer the questions if I can?
How do I get my fathers spell books? I'm not even sure where they are at.
Ugh...
I toss my pen down as I stare at the words on the page. So many questions, and I'm not sure who to get the answers from. For all the studies I have done, I have no knowledge of actually doing things in practice. Like communing with spirits, or deities. An ability that would be really useful right now.
My hand slaps down on the altar in frustration, I let out a groan.
"Don't hurt yourself," a masculine voice says from behind me.
I grab my pen and spin around, my pen held to stab someone, if I need to defend myself. Preferably in the eye. Because I hadn't heard anything, so someone had managed to sneak up on me. That or I'd been super focused.
My pulse moves faster as I stare at the man from last night, he'd ordered my death. And here he is no more than 10 feet away, and I hadn't even noticed his approach.
I really am a horror movie trope!
"Who are you?" I ask, my body tense.
He tilts his head to the side, grey eyes analyzing me. His stare feels like he's trying to see into my very soul, and I don't like it.
"Devlin," his slightly accented voice says.
The way his voices curves around the name sends a shiver down my spine. Like fire licking at my skin. The phantom blade in my chest shifts, ever so slightly. My jaw tightens.
"What are you doing out here?" I ask, glancing to either side of him.
Trying to see if others had come with him. Thankfully I don't see anyone, but sadly he's standing there. All I can think is I really hope it isn't him.
I watch as he squints his eyes, then relaxes them. He shoves one of his hands into his pocket.
He gestures towards me with wave of his hand and he says, "Isn't it fair you share your name? You asked who I am, now I ask who you are."
"Morrigan," I say, sending him a little curt smile, "And before you ask what I'm doing out here, I was drawing."
His mouth curves up, "Really looked like you were about to take frustration out on that altar."
The way he seems to be taunting me makes my eye want to twitch. I force myself to not let my eye twitch. Because I don't want him to get a reaction from me. Certainly don't want him to see it.
Before I can retort, he's speaking again, "Or maybe you've remembered something?"
This time I roll my eyes, there is no way he knows. I hope...Oh Death please tell me he doesn't remember, because if he does… I don't want to die again. Please tell me the person that came back with me is not him.
"No," I ground out.
"No?" Devlin asks, leaning casually back against a tree.
"No." I say.
"So you aren't remembering this very spot, covered in snow and blood?" Devlin taunts me.
"Its you isn't it...You're the one that came back with me." I sigh, my eyes closing as my tense body suddenly relaxes.
I sag back against the altar, eyes dropping to look at the ground.
I hear movement, the sound of his shoes against the dirt. I don't even look up when his feet appear in my line of sight. They are some nice shoes actually, expensive looking. They don't belong out here in the woods. He's only a about two feet in front of me, but he stopped and isn't stepping closer.
He sighs before speaking, "It would appear that for once I am not the one with the answers. You seem to have information that I do not."
The resignation in his voices is what causes me to lift my head. My eyes find his quickly, and he looks tired. Not physically tired, but mentally tired.
"Did you know that Death likes pastels?" I ask, looking into his eyes.
Honestly, I had no idea what else to say, so I've said the first thing that came to mind.
His eyes go wide for a second, and now he's laughing. Apparently those are not the words he expected me to say, and to be fair, they aren't what I expected me to say either. His laughter lasts a minute or so, and still slightly laughing, he shakes his head.
"Is that what happened? Death intervened?" Devlin asks, his voice no longer taunting.
"Yeah," I shrug, "Guess I have made some sort of impression. Not sure why you're here though, to be honest."
He looks at me for a few moments before he nods, he scratches at the stubble on his face.
"I have an idea, or two," He says, stepping away from me.
I watch him as he walks around, looking over the area. Several times he casts his eye out into the woods, not sure what he is looking for, but he seems satisfied.
"Care to share?" I ask.
It is strange, I no longer fear him. It as if I know he can't harm me, and like we aren't alone even if he wanted to. But out here in the woods it is just the two of us. The two of us and random wildlife.
"I did my research before I came to town to complete the tasks given to me. To achieve whatever it is in this town, I was meant to do, or thought I was meant to. They told me my destiny was here, to gain true power." He said, facing away from me, "Every coven, every wolf, shifter, power figure, and witch were looked into. But you... Morrigan Warren a witch who showed no sign of power, named for a goddess of death. Everything said you were weak and an anomaly, showed signs of magic as a child and then nothing. No clue how no one else could feel it, the power of your repressed magic, beating at your very existence, looking for an escape."
My eye twitches, "What does the feel of my magic have to do with this?"
"Because if no one who grew up with you could feel that magic...I shouldn't have felt it." Devlin turns to me, "You know if you hadn't died last night you'd have died soon? Your magic had zero outlet, not sure what fool blocked you magic, but they would have caused your death."
I blink at him.
"That is right whoever blocked your powers, or gave whomever the spell that was used didn't intend for you to fully reach adulthood." He said slowly walking towards me now, "When a child's powers are blocked or repressed, they gave the growing magic no outlet. Hell, according to my people, most witches couldn't even channel you without blood connection. Those with blocked or repressed magic have amulets, or they are channeled by fellow witches. Constantly. Those without an outlet for their magic end up essentially get overwhelmed and something similar to a brain aneurysm happens, you'd have dropped dead."
Taking in the words coming out of his mouth, all I can do is stare in horror. Even though I knew I wouldn't have lived with the block in place for much longer, was very different then having it shoved in me face. I very easily could have died, would have died. I'm not sure what it is, but I know his words are truth.
It was done intentionally.
Someone in my mother's coven intended for me to die. The question is, did my mother or grandmother know? Did one of them make that decision? The other timeline I learned so much, but apparently missed some vital information.
"Why?" I whisper, as a tear escapes from my eye. "What could cause someone to do that?"
Devlin looks at me with a frown on his face. His eyes show signs of what I think is sympathy.
