Morrigan froze in place just before the treeline. She eyed every plant and searched for potential predators. Her training did not prepare her for this. She found herself in one of the most hostile places imaginable. The scariest sight was the razor briar, a beautiful thorned plant with a rose like flower colored black, red, and copper. She knew of the plant by reputation. Razor briar possessed a potent toxin, its thorns can penetrate steel, and here she was with no clothing at all.
It wrapped around the crimson bark of trees and covered patches of the forest floor. While hazardous, death would be painless. The toxic thorns could sting, but rewires your brain to perceive pain as pleasure.
Morrigan tilted her head. A low enough dose could make the journey easier and less painful. She pushed the thought from her mind and stepped forward, choosing each step carefully. Her destination neared, but she still had a long way to go. At the center of the scarlet isle was a temple, a palace where The Red Maiden lived.
A drop of rain kissed the skin on her arm, then her shoulder. She turned to look, and saw the rain drop’s unusual color. In The Wetworks, it rained blood. It flowed down her back, leaving behind a sting as it blistered her skin. Morrigan took a sharp breath of air, clutching the wound that formed. Another drop fell, the blood seeping in between the exposed muscle. The wound healed in moments.
Morrigan’s breathing increased, as if her body knew she had to run before she did. She broke into a sprint, her eyes shifting from the ground to what lied ahead, and back again.
The rain fell quicker, and every drop that slipped past the canopy above made her cry out in pain when it touched her skin. While the wounds healed as fast as they could be made, they didn’t make the pain easier to bear.
She finally stopped and took shelter under a nearby tree. A few stray drops reached her skin, and she tensed up, wincing from the pain. She curled up, trying to make her body as small as possible. She surveyed the strange land around her, her eyes stopping on a large stone with a symbol painted in blood on its surface.
Morrigan didn’t know what it meant, but she recognized the art form. It was a blood sigil, enchantments even more potent than the standard variety. She stared at it, trying to determine its purpose when a sudden realization hit her: Someone else was near. Blood sigils took effort, and required the blood of the one who casts them. No one would bother with a sigil unless they intended on staying near it for some time.
The rain was slowly getting heavier, too heavy for the trees above to offer protection. She ran forward, bracing herself for the pain. The rain melted the skin away, healed it, then assailed her body again. She reached the sigil, brought her hand up to touch it, and jumped when she heard a woman’s voice call out to her. “Oi,”
She spun around, blinking when she saw an old woman in red robes holding open a door.
The old woman beckoned her inside. “Come on now, the rain is only going to get worse.”
Morrigan shook her head, leaning in the opposite direction. Another drop of rain hit her skin, the pain persuading her to take the woman’s offer. Morrigan ran to the door, slipped past the old woman, and rushed inside. The woman closed the door behind her and reached for a large red blanket hanging off the wall. She wrapped the blanket around Morrigan, and gestured for her to sit.
Morrigan moved slow, reluctant to obey. She took in the sights around her, and found she had a reason to be suspicious. Human bones, organs, and severed limbs decorated the far wall, an area that seemed designed to prepare food given the stove and cooking ware nearby. She could feel static radiating from the cloth of the blanket. She looked at it and saw sigils embroidered in the cloth.
Morrigan glared at the woman, backing away and moving to take off the blanket. When she revealed herself, the wounds caused by her exposure to the rain were gone.
The woman shook her head. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be standing right in front of the door.”
Morrigan heard a strange squelching sound from above. Morrigan dared to look up and saw dead eyes staring back at her through a crack in the ceiling, a corpse being cut on by someone upstairs.
“Had your fill, so I’m spared?” Morrigan asked
“Not at all,” the woman said, laughing. “Food doesn’t spoil here. If we wanted you, we’d have you.”
“Then why are you trying so hard to reassure me?”
The woman nodded, “We lost lovers enjoy good compony.” She pointed to the ceiling above, “That one was not good company. Damned heretics.”
“Heretics?”
“You’re not the only one to fight The Fiery Lock, Ms. Heron.”
Morrigan narrowed her eyes, “How do you know my name?”
“The Maiden told us. asked us to aid you, she did.”
“She…” Morrigan stopped and prepared for the answer before continuing. “She speaks to you?”
“Every day, love.” The woman said as she sauntered over to the stove, grabbed a bowl, and filled it with whatever was cooking in a cast iron pot. The woman brought it over, handed to Morrigan, and sat down.
Morrigan took the bowl, but shook her head. “Absolutely not.”
The woman scoffed. “It’s not made with meat. It’s a stew we prepared with vegetables from the garden outside. It will have a strange metallic taste, but you’ll get used to it.”
Morrigan took the spoon in her hand. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was.“I-”
“Shut up, and eat. You’re not immortal here. You have needs. On all the blooded saints, I vouch for its contents.”
Morrigan sat on a dusty couch and brought a spoon full of the stew to her lips. The taste was delicious despite the iron aftertaste.
“My name is Joan.” The woman said.
Morrigan heard of the lost lovers, worshipers of the maiden who chose to live in her domain. They adapt to The Wetworks and learn its secrets. They have been known to assist pilgrims seeking an audience with The Red Maiden, but their hospitality is always brief. Morrigan nodded as she spoke, “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. Now, you can sleep here for a time, after you eat of course. I’ll wake you when the rain stops.”
Morrigan nodded, finishing her food. She felt exhausted, despite the blanket’s attempts to revitalize her.
Joan reached out, took the bowl, and laid a pillow down at the head of the couch. Morrigan laid down and almost instantly fell asleep. She woke up feeling better than she had in years.
When Morrigan opened her eyes, Joan sat in a rocking chair on the other side of the room. A large man sat across from her, digging into a plate full of meat. Morrigan sat up, and Joan immediately stood up. “It’s time to go. The rains stopped an hour ago.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer,” Morrigan said.
Joan smiled, “Not at all, love. All things must end.”
Morrigan nodded, removed the blanket, and neared the door. “Do you know the way from here?”
“Aye,” Joan said. “Head north, out the door and to your left.”
“Thank you for everything.” Morrigan said, opening the door. She stepped out, turned left, and started walking. She felt strong, well rested, and ready to handle the next trial The Wetworks had to throw at her. Every step taken was careful, but quick. The razor briar started wasn’t as dense as it was before. Even the trees seemed further spread out. After a mile, or so, she came across what she knew to be The Vineyard.
The Maiden’s Vineyard is a strange place. Her training insisted that this should be passed as quickly as possible. The entire area was flat, the ground being made of obsidian. Neatly laid out across the expanse were large red mounds.
In the distance, she saw her destination. It looked like a step pyramid with a tower on top. Endless waves of red hair ascended from the top of the tower to the sky above.
She moved fast, passing rows upon rows of the mounds without a second thought. She fidgeted her fingers, slowing down and waiting for the danger she warned about. Nothing came. She came to a stop, looked to the nearest red mound, and slowly approached it. The Vinyard has claimed more pilgrims than any other trial, yet no danger presented itself.
As she got closer, she realized the mound was made of a thick layer of red hair. She hesitated. A human hand could be seen tangled in the hair. Morrigan followed the color of the skin. She could see a body beneath the writhing locks of hair.
These were not mounds containing unfathomable horror. These were cocoons. She knelt to the ground and parted the hair, revealing the face a man in deep slumber.
She lifted the man’s arm and noticed something attached to it. She looked and saw red fibers embedded in the man's skin. The fibers skewered the flesh, embedding themselves into the nervous system. The man gave a smile, one that disappeared almost as it was made. His eyes darted from one side to the other beneath his eyelids. He was alive, and dreaming.
Morrigan placed her hand on his forehead, tried to get a glimpse at what he was dreaming about, and felt a sudden pain shoot through her entire body as countless lifetimes flashed before her in a single instant. She fell back, tried to regain her faculties, and shook away the dizziness caused by so much information.
These were pilgrims, much like her. They were placed in a coma, an endless dream allowing them to live every imaginable fantasy, every life possible. When their life is over, the are reborn. They build new worlds or simply live countless lives. They lived in an endless simulation for eternity.
Morrigan stood, fidgeted with her hands and pressed on. When she reached the edge of The Vineyard, she trembled at the sight. She stared in terror at a thick growth of razor briar, and not a single patch of clear earth to step on. The briar surrounded the palace, making it impossible to reach.
Morrigan sighed, refusing to subject herself to the thorns that covered the ground. She looked around for some way to fashion clothes, or at least some way to shield her delicate flesh from the razor briar, but nothing caught her eye.
She was so close. She looked to the sky and saw the clouds thickening. She needed to find shelter soon. The rains would begin within the hour. She cursed having her sight again. It would have been easier if she couldn't see. The thorns seemed more jagged, longer, and she could see the toxin dripping off.
She raised a foot to take the first painful step, then she stopped. She heard something, distant yet too close for comfort. A requiem drifted along the still air. She held her breath. The roses… They were singing.
So sorry about the declining comment quality and rate. I really wanted to read through your new work today but I just got slammed with work. Anyway, I still can find the ten minutes to read through, I just will have to go with more generalized comments. Primarily, the thing that caught my attention most within this chapter was the sentence structure and formatting. You've either over-edited it to the point of feeling stagnant or it is in need of another editing pass to clean up the prose. It wasn't "bad" enough to be distracting, just noticeable to the point that, with my critic's mindset, I noticed it. A lot. Another thing, mostly a subset of the previous note, is that your tense is really wonky in this chapter. I don't know if it's something I just noticed or even whether or not I just couldn't think straight; however, you keep switching between Morrigan's actions, which are in the past tense, and describing things in the present tense. "She heard something" vs "They build new worlds or simply live countless lives." The latter should probably be "They built new worlds or simply lived countless lives." This kind of thing is scattered throughout the chapter. Other than that, I like the inclusion of the Lost Lovers as well as further exploration of the scene. I would suggest mentioning more about what Morrigan had previous learned as well as attempting to create a smoother weave between action and the description of the scene -- whatever balance you can find between all 3 elements. Beyond that, some of this feels like it would be a horrible existence to live in as well as continuing to uphold the bloody setting due to being in a literal world of blood. Good work, sorry I couldn't say more.
wow, ok yeah. i thought about throwing an authors note on here, but didnt want to ruin the comment. I plan on fixing this. This jis a barebones chapters and it really needs more. Im finding this problem more and more. its why i didnt publish a chapter yesterday. its REALLY rough.