the Morrigan: Original Stories Collection

the Morrigan's Bargain

Captain James O'Donnell had seen his fair share of horrors on the battlefield. He had witnessed the relentless march of war, the destruction of cities, and the faces of comrades lost in the chaos of combat. But nothing had prepared him for the eerie, haunting landscape that lay before him on that fateful night. It was in the heart of World War II, and an alternate history version that had taken a dark and surreal turn. This once-thriving European city now lay in ruins, its grandeur reduced to rubble and ash. Skyscrapers had crumbled into jagged shards of steel and concrete, and the streets that had once bustled with life were now empty and desolate.

The air was thick with the acrid scent of diesel fuel, a constant reminder of the advanced technology that powered the war machine. Neon signs, flickering with an eerie glow, provided the only illumination, casting long, ominous shadows on the shattered pavement. Captain O'Donnell stood among a group of war-weary soldiers, their faces etched with exhaustion and fear. They had been through hell and back, and this night promised to be their greatest trial yet. The intelligence reports were vague, and their enemy shrouded in mystery. Rumors of a supernatural presence had circulated among the troops, whispers of a woman who appeared out of the mist and healed wounded soldiers with a touch.

As they prepared for the battle ahead, Captain O'Donnell couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in his chest. It wasn't just the impending conflict that weighed on him; it was the oppressive atmosphere that seemed to seep into every corner of the city. The fog had rolled in, dense and suffocating, reducing visibility to mere feet. Strange noises echoed through the mist, distant and unsettling. Soldiers exchanged nervous glances, clutching their weapons a little tighter. They had faced enemy fire, but this was different. This was a dread that crept into the soul, a sense that they were not alone in the darkness.

In the dim light, Captain O'Donnell caught a glimpse of a wounded soldier, his uniform stained with blood. The man muttered deliriously, his eyes wide with terror.

"She... she came from the fog," he whispered, his voice trembling. "A woman... a woman in a trench coat. She... she healed me."

O'Donnell exchanged a bewildered look with his fellow soldiers. It couldn't be true, could it? But as they listened to the wounded man's ramblings, a shiver ran down their spines. The city was a battleground, but it was also a place of secrets, where the line between reality and the supernatural blurred. And as the fog thickened, obscuring their surroundings and casting an eerie pall over everything, Captain O'Donnell couldn't shake the feeling that they were about to face something beyond the horrors of war.

Little did he know that *the Morrigan* had arrived, her presence a harbinger of a nightmarish conflict that would test the limits of human courage and the boundaries of the living and the dead.

The night descended further into darkness as the eerie fog thickened, enveloping the city like a shroud. Soldiers huddled together, their breaths visible in the frigid air, as the oppressive mist clung to their uniforms. Captain O'Donnell couldn't ignore the unsettling feeling that crawled beneath his skin. It wasn't merely the cold or the fog; it was the palpable sense that something was amiss, that they were no longer alone in the desolation of war.

As if on cue, the night came alive with strange noises—whispers carried by the wind, distant cries that seemed to echo from the depths of the ruins. The soldiers exchanged nervous glances, rifles at the ready, as they strained to see through the thick fog that limited their visibility to mere feet. Then, it happened. Emerging from the impenetrable mist, a figure appeared—a silhouette in the dim light, a woman in a body-length coal colored trench coat. Her presence was surreal, an anomaly in the midst of destruction.

Captain O'Donnell's heart quickened as he raised his weapon, his instincts on high alert. The soldiers around him did the same, their fingers trembling on their triggers. They had faced enemy combatants, but this was different. This was an enigma, a mystery wrapped in shadows.