𝑼𝒎𝒃𝒓𝒂 ✩ Druig (ON PAUSE)

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞.

𝑺𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒎, 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒔
𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟏𝐬𝐭 [ 𝟏𝟔𝟗𝟐 ]

The words appeared meaningless, after all, Milicent Pythias resided amongst shadows. She herself an umbra.

It was incredulous. Nobody loved her now, that wouldn't change as life prevailed.

❝You can't be seriou—❞

Restriction of her airway incited shortness of breath. Milicent's hands shook, reaching for her own closing throat.

❝The cursed raven shall reap, love.❞

Their eyes met, a war raging between sea and soil, whiskey and azure orbs.

❝Agatha-❞

The witch grew agitated, provoked by Milicent's desperation. Her blue eyes squinted, head cocking to the side.

❝You don't know of pain! You merely cause it.❞

Her words had been laced with venom. Cutting Milicent's pleads short.

❝But, you will know pain,❞ She nodded her head, her fingers twisting.

❝For it will consume you.❞

The woods were desolate, only Milicent and one of few who accepted her. But that was before things changed. Now, her best friend was her enemy, unleashing dissension upon her.

❝If you do this—❞ Milicent gasped, desperate for air.

Opaque veins shot up her arms, headed for her neck. Purple clouds danced around her, exerting all energy within.

❝You're no better than them—❞

She exhaled, brown orbs glassy, her once rose-tinted cheeks drained of their pigment.

❝Then the people b-burning o-our kind!❞

Milicent's words had enraged the blue-eyed woman, her orbs turning an immoral purple.

❝No better? You're one to talk ❞ She spat.

Her best friend approached, hands wielding the purple haze around them.

They stood close, breathing laboured. Milicent was helpless, her hands bound against wood.

❝I would never hurt you, what he told were lies!❞

Milicent's voice shook. Nobody would hear them, it was the witching hour.

She was bound to the post her coven met their end upon. Her fate was akin to theirs

❝No! You tell lies, that's all you've ever done!❞ 

...or so she thought.

Milicent watched her adversary, studying each intricate movement.

Her enemy circled around the post, boots producing a loud thump as they met oak. She was challenging Milicent, writing her fate with ancient words.

❝For she the one who stole my love from heaven and above,❞

Her chanting started soft, words hypnotic.

❝The cursed raven shall reap,❞

She projected malicious beams in Milicent's direction.

❝She shall reap all of love,❞

Her chanting grew louder, echoing throughout their vacant surroundings.

❝When skies fall dark and souls detract upon the setting sun,❞

With each word came a dreadful incline, a reminder of who Milicent Pythias would become.

❝The cursed raven will reap, the one whose yet to come.❞

Milicent was the last barrier of malediction, someone to be feared. Her power was ancient, originating from the very beginning of time.

Her adversary was no match, if only she knew that herself.

❝AUGHAAAHA!❞ Milicent screeched.

Black veins covered her skin, brown eyes turning jet black. She felt like she was burning from the inside out.

'Surgere pure meus. Mortem tuam longe.' 

Milicent's voice grew hoarse, her figure slumping as she called upon the shadow world.

(Purity will rise. Your death, O very far off.)

Thunder boomed in the distance, the sky opening its floodgates as lightning struck. 

Her bounded wrists snapped, sending ominous shadows out with them. Milicent was free of her constraint

❝Umbra Pythonissam, you're too late...❞

...but not of the curse.

It was set in stone, ❝The cursed raven shall reap, love.❞