Morrigan wandered through the halls of the compound, stumbling over bodies, and debris. She stepped on something round. She bent over to pick up a pomegranate, one of many to spill from a bowl on a nearby table. She felt along the guard rails at the top of the stairs and recognized the ornate engravings. Morrigan wondered if the mansion looked the same now as the last time she was there.
It felt the same. It even smelled the same. She grew up in this place, dedicated her life to what it represents. Since she left, she often fantasized about what she would do when she succeeded Gemma. She thought that she'd destroy it, burn it and start over.
That night left a stain on the memories of the compound and it would never wash out. As she stood over the bodies of the faithful, she felt conflicted. She hated the compound, but this was not what she wanted.
She could hear Tyler, no matter how lightly he stepped. He followed her and watched her every move. He was terrified, and desperately tried to hide it.
"This was my home." Morrigan said, gently pressing on the surface of the fruit in her hands.
"What?" Tyler asked. He stepped forward, and when she turned to him, he quickly stepped back.
Morrigan could hear it in her voice, how it shook and shuddered. "What?" Tyler didn't answer. She reached out and he backed away. "Tyler," she whined, stepping forward to chase him.
"You're still in the passion?"
"Yes," she cried, the tears flowing. "It's not always anger, or hate."
"But-"
"I feel-" she paused, rubbing her hands through her hair while her voice broke, "I feel so fucking much right now." She waited for a reaction, and when it never came, she turned away. She reached along the walls, searching for something and after a time simply gave up, covering herself as she turned to Tyler and asked, "Do you see some clean robes on the wall I can wear. They'd be hanging up somewhere on this floor." She found the robes in her hand in seconds.
He should be scared, she thought, slipping into the robes. While she felt more comfortable, she felt no less exposed. I'll be the death of him. We don't have a chance in hell.
"I thought you had no control." Tyler said.
She stepped in a pool of blood and took in a sharp breath. "Of course I don't. It's compulsive, but why should that make what I feel any less true? It's always me, regardless of what I do."
"I'm sorry."
Morrigan scoffed. "It's not your fault. Don't be sorry. Maybe I'm not being fair?" She held a finger out to him, raising her voice. "Why is everyone dead? What did you do?"
"The cult revolted against Gemma. It may have been our fault, but the will was there all the same."
Morrigan nodded and her nostrils flared. Her eyes gave the slightest twitch as she replied, "Do you know how much this hurts?"
He spoke fast, but again, he misunderstood, "I thought you'd be proud, or at least grateful."
"This was my home. These people were family," she screamed. Clutching her head with both hands and keeling over. Her thoughts spilled forth, an argument with herself in plain view, "but I am proud. Fucking cowards couldn't do this on their own. They still can't. I only wanted to kill Gemma. This is not okay."
"Morrigan?".
"You brought me back?" she asked.
"Yes, I-"
"What if I wanted to die?" she said, weeping. "What do I do?" She felt lost for the first time in ages. She couldn't handle the possibilities. Should she kill those who never bothered to help her before, their apathy leading to her prolonged suffering? She could start fresh and leave The Fiery Lock to its own doom. How could she choose one among countless paths to walk?
Tyler kept silent, her words likely hurting more than she intended. It was hard to think straight, but she could tell he was hurt. She knew this feeling well, though it was strange being caught on this side of the problem. Tyler did this to help her. He did this to save her. He made something for her, and she hated it. She had no idea how he managed to do it, but he did. "Thank you. I'm sorry."
"I didn't mean to upset you," he said.
"I know," she replied with a halfhearted smile.
Tyler walked passed her, presumably looking outside a window, "Why is the sky red?"
"What?" Morrigan asked.
"The sky. It's blood-red."
Morrigan answered, "Gemma's losing the fight. She's called The Maiden for aid. The rains will begin soon, followed by the red miles, an avatar of The Maiden." Morrigan said. She walked down the stairs, and out the front door. The sounds of spells and static echoed around her.
"I don't think you should fight." Tyler said.
"I never said I was going to," She replied, sitting on the front porch. She heard the creature roar in the distance, Gemma fighting with all she had against the very women she trained. She felt along the skin of the pomegranate and began to peel it. "You seem different," she said as Tyler sat beside her.
"You could say that," he replied. "What is that?"
"A pomegranate. It's a symbol of The Maiden. Have you ever eaten one?"
"No," Tyler replied. "It looks a little..." he trailed off, as if afraid of offending her as she worked, bending and peeling with care.
"Does it make you uncomfortable?" she asked.
"Yes."
"I felt the same when I could see," she said. "We used to grow them." She removed a section of the rind and gently rolled the arils off and into her hand. She offered them to him, and plucked several more for herself. The taste was sweet, yet tart.
After waiting several moments, Tyler spoke. "Not bad, but it's not my favorite."
Morrigan nodded and drew her attention to the grounds of the compound. The fighting subsided. Morrigan nodded. "Either Gemma's dead, or the ladies-in-waiting are."
"What now?"
"It depends," she said. "If Gemma is dead, fine. If not, then it's down to me. It won't be a long fight."
A drop of red fell to the ground, followed by another. The blood was warm, eating through the snow that covered the grounds. The smell of roses drifted on the air. Morrigan felt her in the static, the woman's age only strengthening her presence. Morrigan shook her head. Despite Gemma's best efforts, Morrigan could hear how heavy she was breathing, how she limped as she walked. She was close to breaking.
Ooh. It's been a few days, not that I mind. We shall see how many flounders I make in regards to remembering the previous events of the previous chapters -- and let's just say I'm already confused by the opening paragraph as I thought the last chapter ended with Morrigan and Tyler in the basement. Nevermind. I just reread your last line which was so small that I forgot you had Morrigan trail away toward the fighting so I guess the opening works. However, I would suggest leaving the chapter off at the moment where Morrigan and Tyler are left alone and then have some sort of loud distraction that makes Morrigan head toward the fighting in this chapter. It creates both more of a cliffhanger and better allows chapters to be read at intervals. The fear component has switch sides. It seems more like Tyler is afraid of Morrigan within the passion than Morrigan is of anything else. If she were afraid of him she simply wouldn't speak unless she had to. If she was afraid of herself, she would likely be more subdued. Almost apologetic instead of simply moving on. The fear aspect suggests a dawning sense of horror in regard to the power she holds despite the grasp of the Passion which, if I recall, would simply heighten her desperation and fear to the point where she would react far more strongly than what you have happening. Realistically, she could even have the internal conflict of whether to cling to Tyler because she doesn't want to lose him versus tell him to stay away so she doesn't kill him/she can protect him from the fight. Conversely, the following internal conflict of where she should go is well portrayed. Morrigan is haunted by her immortality. She was abandoned by her family and the Passion is likely making it impossible to distinguish between grief for all that she lost -- her family, her friends, and her life in some ways -- while she still seeks revenge for the death brought upon the Estate and wants Gemma to pay the price. That aspect is far better portrayed here, not that you should ignore my previous comment as it still stands. The final passage is both great and terrible. I love the language and the imagery in Gemma's broken/breaking form as she begins to suffer the price that comes with what she stole. However, the less well-done aspect is the transition. You don't really do well to transition between your lines of dialogue to the description here. The main problem is "a drop of red...blood was warm" as this suggests a previously introduced source of blood -- my mind went to the pomegranate, "is the pomegranate made of blood" -- which leads to the uncomfortable transition. Perhaps rearrange the paragraph to suggest the presence of the static followed by further description? I'm not fully sure, but it needs a little work. That's about it. My comment kind of seems harsh, now that I think about it, but I still liked the chapter. There were just some some-what key aspects of it that need to be reworked a little bit. Good luck finishing!
Yesssss! Not harsh at all man. Having another perspective is important, obviously, as you've pointed some key plot holes and more. This is an excellent comment that explains itself well. I'll rework it and fix these issues so that it all flows better for what I had in mind here. There are two more chapters, though one would technically be an epilogue? Idk Id like to see your opinion on it. Either way, thanks so much for the comment!
Awesome. I can't wait to see how you wrap this up and whether or not my brain has enough storage capacity to remember any other plot holes that are just dismissed with a wave of an author's hand! That, and this is way more fun to analyze than... The Catcher in the Rye
OOOOF. So many plot holes, arcs less than perfectly finished, themes and motifs unseeded, and more. I've found far too many. It's okay though. Those are easy to fix. Also, that's a relief. I'd be quite upset if Catcher was more fun XD I'm gonna sit on this one till tommorrow, just in case. It's late and i don't trust myself.