As the magic took hold of Nora’s mind, she felt the talons of forced perspective pierce themselves through her sockets. She staggered, reeling from the motion sickness. The forest around her melted away, blurring and swirling like engine oil in a puddle, reforming and reframing to create an entirely new landscape. Muddied memories and quick smacks of second-hand smoke emotions made Nora almost sick with intensity. They were rich, decadent visions and the Witch gorged herself, feeling her intestines stretch with the pressure of containment. Her skull filled with pressure, palms flush against her head, pushing as if pining for freedom. Nora blinked blearily, trying to make sense of what was being shown. She struggled to grasp the sands of memories, grains slipping between her fingers, Sirossa’s emotions coursing through her veins. After what felt like years, floating whilst suspended in the dream state, Nora returned to her own body with a jolt. She gasped for breath, clasping at her chest with shaken hands, the forest floor sliding back into focus. 

[quote] “[i]Welcome back. Turn me in if you want. I don’t really care.[/i]”[/quote] 

The Sorceress had the edge of accusation in her voice, her eyes narrowed and pointed like daggers. Nora said nothing for a moment, lowering her gaze as the sparks of Sirossa’s feelings still tingled beneath her skin. She hissed air through gritted teeth, shifting her weight from one foot to another. 

[quote] “[i]I’m not turning you in[/i],” Nora whispered, softness rounding off the syllables. “[i]Not after what you’ve just shown me.[/i]”[/quote]

Her mind wondered to what the Coven would say, specifically what her Mother would say, if they were present for this conversation. Their sympathy wouldn’t stretch far. They’d take one look at the luxuriously-dressed Sorceress and throw her out in the cold without a second thought. But Nora took pride in thinking independently to her fellow Witchhood. Besides, they hadn’t seen what she’d just seen. They hadn’t felt the raw, unfiltered emotions of an orphan Sorceress, abandoned by her own kind. Hunted by those she may have once called family. This woman’s isolation plucked at the strings of Nora’s heart, melted her hardened exterior, made her really see who was stood before her. Suddenly, she was no longer an intruder in the forest. She didn’t even feel like a stranger. The window into a plagued mind that she’d just pressed her nose against had cured her of ignorance. Now, she looked upon Sirossa with new eyes.

[quote] “[i]I’m Nyota[/i],” she called out. “[i]Nyota Gravesend of the Waxing Circle. And who might you-[/i]“[/quote]

An introduction cut short. Words stacked like bricks in her throat. Shadows whispered, urgent nothingness hissing through branches, a foreboding chill rippled down Nora’s spine. The Forest was warning her once again. This time, there was a sense of urgency in the way the darkness called out to Nora. Her head whipped round, ears straining to hear what her Magic was telling her.

[quote] “[i]Do you hear that?[/i]” she hissed at the Sorceress, inching closer to her and the steed that stood loyally by her side. “[i]We’re not alone.[/i]”[/quote]