Sisters of Shadow

Morana stared up at the night sky, a feeling of peace flowing over her. She glanced back as she heard the sound of hooves, nodding in greeting to Sidra.

“How is she?” Sidra asked, and Morana’s gaze found the sleeping form of Rusalka.

Mor really didn’t think she was cut out to raise a child. There was really no part of her that felt any need to be motherly, or care for another being. Not in that way, at least.

After everything in the past years, Mor had come to care for Sidra, perhaps like a friend. The others, well. They existed. Morana respected Khaalida, and she tolerated Sidra’s herd. But Sidra was different.

Rusalka… Well. Morana wasn’t quite sure what to make of the situation. The strange soul bond between them of course made her inclined to care for the youngster, but had there been no bond? She wouldn’t have thought twice about what happened to the filly after they found her. She cared because she had to, because the thought of what might happen if she didn’t wasn’t one she wanted to face.

Morana had faced death. She didn’t wish to do it again.

“Sleeping,” Morana replied, and Sidra chuckled.

“I can see that,” Sidra pointed out. “I meant how is she doing in a more personal sense.”

Morana shifted uncomfortably and shrugged.

“You haven’t asked, have you?” Sidra sighed.

“She is fed,” Mor defended. “And safe.”

“Mor, you gotta do better than that,” Sidra replied. “Maybe try asking how she's been feeling, considering she was found alone, carted across half the world, and always on the move with you.”

Morana kept her face blank, but internally winced a bit. Once everything had calmed down, she had, well. Kind of forgotten to care. As bad as that sounded, she had gone back to what she always did - worried more about her own life and wants.

They had spent a lot of time in Espeor, training and working on magic. Rusalka had a solid grasp of it now, as well as a stronger bond with her familiar. Morana felt more stable too, with these new and strange Deity powers. Having all of that magic come at once had been a rush, and had felt inherently right. Like it was what she was always meant for.

Morana could feel Sidra getting ready to continue her rant. Perhaps coming to Valisthea for Rusalka and herself to continue their training was a bad idea.

Before Sidra could start again, a shimmer of magic grew in the air before them.

Khaalida stepped through the portal, followed by a pissed off looking young mare. Sidra’s eyes brightened in curiosity, and Morana felt grateful for a moment. If this was another student for Sidra, then that meant Sidra would be off her back for a bit.

“Oh good, you are both here,” Khaalida said, and Morana’s heart sank.

“Morana, this is Morrigan. Morrigan, this is your sister, Morana.”

Morana felt the world stop for a moment. A sister? She had two of those (half sisters, really), and they did not get along. Why was there another one?

“Morana will take good care of you.”

“The hell I will,” Morana spat, glaring at Khaalida. “What the hell kind of setup is this?”

“Told you so,” Morrigan said, with a raised eyebrow. “Now can I leave?”

“Yes,” Morana said, at the same time that Khaalida said “No.”

Sidra looked between them with a raised eyebrow. Rusalka had woken during the commotion, and the youngster stood, looking between them with her one good eye.

“Rusalka, why don’t you come with me,” Sidra said, eyeing Khaalida and Morana. “You as well, Morrigan. It seems they have some discussions to do.”

Morana barely held it together until they were out of earshot before turning to glare at Khaalida. “What are you trying to pull?” she spat.

Khaalida sighed, seeming quite weary all of a sudden. “I understand you are frustrated Morana. But Morrigan needs you.”

“Why should I care about a sister I haven’t even heard of before?”

The commotion had Khaalida’s Cat hissing from between the mare’s legs. Morana’s own familiar was drawn by the noise, and perched on her back with a croak of annoyance.

Khaalida sighed again. “Will you allow me to show you?”

Before Morana could agree, she felt the wash of magic over her mind as Khaalida shared the memories.

The swamp was dense, and full of danger. Khaalida didn’t ever really like it, but she could see the strange beauty in it. How strange that Asteri had ended up here.

The mare in question waited on the porch of a small stilt-house, raised high above the water and away from predators. Khaalida joined her there, and immediately noticed why she had been called. Asteri’s sides were swollen with child, and very close to giving birth.

“You probably noticed the reason I called,” Asteri said with a half smile.

“Who is the other parent?” Khaalida asked, watching Asteri wince from a contraction.

“Lullaby,” Asteri admitted.

While Lullaby had carried Morana to term, it seemed this second joining of the two mares resulted in Asteri being the one to carry.

The thought of Morana made Khaalida frown slightly. The darkness, all the paths that ended in ruin in her future. And now, another child?

Asteri had given Morana two half sisters since Morana was born. Khaalida had seen how little they got along, seeming to embody different ideals. While Vesna and Devana seemed to thrive within the world of the living, Morana always seemed to be one step away from the realm of the dead.

“Why did you not call for Sirona, or another healer?” Khaalida asked.

Asteri led the way into the house with a grimace. “It is not my first birth,” she replied. “And I felt it prudent to have you here. This one…. This one feels different.”

Khaalida was certain that was even more reason to call an official healer. Her own healing magic wasn’t the most practiced. But she supposed, since she had several of her own foals, Asteri felt more comfortable with her here.

Khaalida assisted as she could, but the birth was hard and long. It was as the clock struck midnight, nearly fourteen hours after Khaalida arrived, that Asteri birthed her foal.

Khaalida immediately poured healing magic into the little foal, the poor thing teetering on the edge of life and death. But she managed to keep it on this side of the veil, and soon after an exhausted Asteri was nursing the little thing.

It’s, no, her coat was dark, with streaks of blue moonlight like her mother, and frost along her back as well. The similarities were striking between this little foal and her full-blood sister.

“Will you do as you did for Morana?” Asteri asked, and Khaalida warily agreed.

Her magic reached out and touched the youngster, who seemed to feel it and met her gaze.

A shudder went through Khaalida. Once again, she found many paths of darkness in this foal's future. Only two seemed to bear any hope. One was her never meeting Morana. The other was the pair together. But the one with Morana never even knowing about her… That one held the most hope for a normal life.

“I name you Morrigan,” Khaalida said, with a sense of finality and the ever twining threads of fate.

“Asteri… Morana must never know of her,” Khaalida said, looking at her with a fierce gaze. “If they do, their path will be nearly disastrous.”

Asteri’s face fell, her heartbreak evident on her features. “I will do as you say, Khaalida. I had hoped they could be friends, at the least… but if this is what is safest.”

The scene changed again. Khaalida was in the swamps, but it had the feeling of being much later.

“She shows no signs of magic,” Asteri said, walking alongside her. “Not a single drop.”

“I wouldn’t be too concerned, Asteri,” Khaalida said. “You have spent a long time around exceptionally gifted Quirlicorns. Not everyone finds magic so early in their life.”

Asteri sighed, looking quite weary. “I try very hard,” she admitted. “I often expect magic to just burst out of her one day. She can be quite temperamental, and it seems she has no true balance to her.”

“She is a teenager,” Khaalida pointed out.

“She is nearly sixteen,” Asteri replied. “And yet I feel I have not been able to teach her a single thing. Sure, she knows what swamp plants are good for what, and how to treat various ailments, but what will she know of the world?”

“It will all work out,” Khaalida replied, but in her stomach felt a sinking sense of dread.

The scene shifted again. Khaalida was flying through the swamp as quickly as she could. She had been on her way back from visiting when she got Asteri’s urgent message.

Morrigan’s magic had come.

When Khaalida landed, it was to stare in awe. Morrigan stood in the middle of a group on their knees, staring up at her entranced. There was a darkness around her, a glint to her eyes that spoke of more danger to come. Asteri was pleading with her to release the minds of the others.

“They tried to attack you,” Morrigan spat. “They should suffer the consequences.”

“Morrigan, no. They didn’t know I was here to help. Those who live this far in the swamp… They aren’t like us. They didn’t know,” Asteri was begging.

Morrigan turned her burning blue gaze to Khaalida, a vicious smile coming over her face. Khaalida did the only thing she could think of. She opened a wormhole beneath Morrigan’s hooves, and watched as she dropped through it. She then went to Asteri, and took them through the wormhole after.

Morrigan was unconscious when they got there. Asteri cried quietly, staring at her daughter.

“What did I do wrong?” Asteri asked.

Khaalida felt that sinking dread within her again. She had thought that it would all work out. But as she peered into Morrigan’s future again only one stood bright.

Futures were bound to change, and it was hard to say what one action changed it like this. But now they had no choice.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Khaalida said sadly. “I chose the wrong future. I tried playing as Fate, and Fate has reminded me that I cannot pull all the strings.”

She should have known something was wrong when Morrigan’s magic hadn’t progressed as it did in the first vision. She should have known.

“What do we do?” Asteri asked, looking at her daughter with a hint of fear. “We could send her to Candentia, like we did Morana…”

Khaalida shook her head. “No, I will take her. I will take her to Morana. She and Sidra can help her.”

“But you said…”

“I know what I said, and I will be the one to explain. This isn’t on you, Asteri. You did all you could. I should have supported you better.” Khaalida let her healing magic wash over Morrigan, healing the bumps and bruises she had gotten before she took the crowd under control.

“Whether we like it or not, their fates are tied.”

Morana felt woozy from the intense visions of the past, and it took her a moment to find her bearings.

What she had seen… Her own magic had come strong, but not nearly that strong. Morrigan had held their minds without blinking. Without an ounce of regret. Part of Morana, the dark part of her, sang with delight at the concept. The part of her that danced with the devil and tempted sin rejoiced. There was another as dark and twisted, with as much potential for bad as herself.

Morana had always known of her darkness. She had known it since she died and came back.

But this sister of hers…

Sidra’s face entered Morana’s mind, and Mor felt ashamed. She had already failed Rusalka more times than she could count. Sidra was disappointed in her. Sidra would make the better caretaker and teacher for the pair.

But Morana could not find it in herself to push those tantalizing dark thoughts away.

“Why should I care,” Morana finally said. “Why should I care about a sister that I don’t know. Just pack her up and send her off to Candentia like you did me. Like all of you decided for me instead of raising me yourselves.”

Khaalida shook her head. “I cannot let her go there. You went because it was the best option for you,” Khaalida said. “You had Minuet there to grow up alongside. You had a place to grow to learn your power. Morrigan doesn’t have that option with how it happened to her.”

“There you go again, playing as Fate, Khaalida,” Morana snorted. “When are you going to learn that no matter how you pluck the strings, you can’t play Fate. Fate always wins.”

Khaalida grimaced. “I only do what I can.”

“Well, do better,” Morana spat, before storming off.

“I will care for you,” Morana said, facing Morrigan a while later.

“Great,” Morrigan replied, sarcastically. “I’m not a baby, I don’t need ‘cared for’.”

Morana’s own magic lashed out, not any particular kind, more of just a force of magic surrounding Morrigan and pressing up against her inner walls.

“Let’s get something straight. I am not doing this out of the goodness of my heart or some kind of familial bond. I didn’t even know about you until you showed up. You are simply staying with me because you have nowhere else to go. No one else wants you.”

A flicker of panic and sadness flashed across Morrigan’s vision. Morana let up on the magic, but didn’t let her expression change.

“If you want to leave, then so be it. Buckle down, learn your magic and a measure of control, and you can go off to do whatever you want. But until then, you are staying with me. It’s your only option,” Morana said, before turning away from Morrigan.

“And you, Khaalida. You can leave. It was your decision to drop her on me, and you don’t get a say from here on out.”

Khaalida said nothing, only watching with a weary gaze before nodding and disappearing back through a wormhole.

Morana turned to Sidra, who flinched back slightly. “Anything to add?” Morana spat.

Sidra simply looked between them all, sadness in her gaze. But she shook her head. “I will get a room settled for Morrigan,” she said softly, before also turning to go.

Morana looked back to Morrigan and Rusalka. She felt a bit bad for talking like that in front of Rusalka, but those feelings were quickly smothered by the cold anger within her.

“Let’s go.”

Morrigan stood in the middle of a half furnished room, exhaustion laying heavy on her. Life had been simple in the swamps. She had hated it. Lashed out at it, raged at it. But now, part of her wished for it again.

Magic seemed to be trying to burst through the seams within her. So much magic, so many possibilities. Where there had simply been a void before, now seemed to overflow.

“Come out, War,” Morrigan said softly. Her familiar fluttered out from the shadows, landing on the bed frame. The crow regarded her with quiet, solemn eyes. Morrigan hadn’t missed the fact that Morana also had a crow familiar, nor had she missed Rusalka’s own.

Perhaps it was some sign that the three were meant to be. Perhaps it was just a coincidence.

Despite her exhaustion, her mind turned with every possibility.

A knock startled her from the near doze she was in, and she stumbled to it only to find Sidra outside with a cup of tea.

“Here, I thought this might help. Been a long day, I’m sure,” Sidra said with a smile.

Morrigan bit back her exhausted and snappy reply, before simply nodding. Sidra breezed into the room, setting it on an endstand.

“For what it’s worth… Morana is my best friend. She will come around.”

Morrigan couldn’t help herself. “I don’t care,” she muttered.

Sidra smiled sadly. “But you do,” she replied, seeing right through her. “Sleep well. We will talk more in the morning.”

Morrigan watched her go, before sitting down on the bed with a sigh.

She had always known about Morana. Had always been jealous of the way Asteri had talked about her. She hadn’t realized Morana had no clue she existed.

Having always felt cheated out of a relationship with her, Morrigan had just figured Morana wanted nothing to do with her. And while that was true, it wasn’t for the reasons Morrigan had thought. It was a lot more complicated than that, it seemed.

Resentment still brewed within her. It wasn’t fair, not one bit. All that talk of Fate, yet Morrigan only felt that it was a cruel joke.

She hated Asteri for just giving up. She hated Khaalida for tearing her away and dropping her here without a second thought. She hated Sidra for seeing through her. She hated Rusalka for the bond she had with Morana. And she hated Morana… for not loving her.

It was a night of uneasy sleep. Morrigan was constantly startled awake from vivid dreams, going over and over what she just called the Incident. It had been so easy to just… break them. She had been so empty, and then they threatened her mother. The area within her that felt so hollow, so broken… The magic had filled it, and overflowed. So much.

Morrigan could barely handle it. Even now, when nothing touched her, she could barely handle the feeling of the magic within her.

A knock came to the door, then Sidra’s voice. “Breakfast time! Come down the stairs and to the right.”

Morrigan wanted to lay in bed. She wanted to lay there and not move. But her stomach growled, demanding she get up. So she did.

With War on her shoulder, she headed downstairs.

The first thing Morrigan noticed was the overwhelming number of other Quirlicorns. When she had arrived the night before it had been quiet, peaceful almost. Now there were others all over the place, loud noise, and most of all, magic.

They were all young, and using magic as if it were second nature. The magic was unstable, not fully trained, but magic nonetheless.

A bitter feeling curled within Morrigan. Her own magic was a decade too late compared to some of these others.

Sidra seemed to notice Morrigan standing on the outskirts, and called her over. “Here, let's get some food and we can eat in the Temple.”

Plate loaded up, Morrigan followed Sidra through some halls. The halls went from looking freshly built to older, much older. They slipped through an archway, and Morrigan stared up at the towering pillars. The ruins of a temple lay before them, and most importantly it was quiet.

Rusalka, the youngster from yesterday, sat by herself eating her own breakfast. Morana was nowhere to be seen.

Sidra led her over to Rusalka, and gestured for Morrigan to sit.

Morrigan did so, shifting uncomfortably. But Rusalka offered her a slight smile.

“It can get pretty crowded in there,” Rusalka said softly. “It is much better out here.”

Morrigan stared for a few seconds, trying to decide what to do. She finally simply gave a shrug. “It was a lot of other Quirlicorns,” she agreed.

“We get many here in Valisthea,” Sidra said. “I was among the first to be born with magic, and more than one. After I left Espeor, well. Long story short I founded this place. Now those born with magic can come and learn how to control their powers and how to grow with it, like Rusalka.”

Envy was a green monster within Morrigan, but she said nothing. It was just a reminder of how late her magic came. As if sensing that, Sidra continued.

“You are immensely powerful, Morrigan. More so than you know. It normally takes years for any Quirlicorn, born with magic or not, to reach your level. To have it come on all at once… It must be overwhelming.”

Morrigan looked down at her plate, pushing around the food.

“It is… a bit much,” Morrigan finally admitted.

“It will get easier. You are not used to so much magic within you. Normally you have time to get used to the feeling of lesser magic before learning more powerful magics. That didn’t happen with you, so it’s normal for you to feel this way.”

Something about it struck a chord with Morrigan. She was a freak, but at least it wouldn’t always feel this way, bursting at the seams with a mind of its own.

Before Morrigan could reply, Morana walked in. Morrigan watched her gaze immediately go to Rusalka first, and felt a knife twist within her heart.

Rusalka stood, walking over to Morana, and the pair quietly talked for a few moments. Morrigan forced her gaze back to her food.

“They have a soul bond,” Sidra said softly. “We aren’t sure exactly how it happened, but it doesn’t allow for Morana and Rusalka to be very far from each other for long. It’s gotten easier as Rusalka got older, but… Well, a few miles for a bit of time is the most they can manage.”

It sounded terrible, but Morrigan suddenly wished for that for herself. To have someone who couldn’t leave you, ever. She supposed it would suck, but after everything… It would be nice, she supposed.

“Come, we are training,” Morana said, and Morrigan looked up.

“Can’t you let her finish her breakfast?” Sidra asked.

Morrigan looked down at her barely touched plate, her hunger from earlier gone.

“She will learn to eat up when she can after this,” Morana replied, before turning and leaving, Rusalka following.

Morrigan sighed, and stood. Sidra was staring daggers at Morana’s retreating form, but her gaze softened when it returned to Morrigan.

“I will show you the way,” Sidra offered.

Morrigan only nodded.

“Open yourself to the magic. I need to see what you can do,” Morana said, her gaze still not meeting Morrigan’s.

Morrigan quietly did as she requested, shuddering when she turned her inner eye to the rolling pit of magic.

Morana and Sidra watched intently. “Mental magics, mostly,” Sidra said softly. “Her power is very focused on the mind.”

Morana didn’t comment on it. “Good. Now keep that connection open to your magic, and run laps around the temple.”

Lunch came and went, Morana giving Morrigan physical exercises to do as she kept that line to her magic open. Morrigan wanted to fight back, and wanted to rage. But the desperate desire to have some control stopped her.

It was nearly dusk when Morana ordered her to stop, and dropped a pile of books. “Read these, learn them,” Morana said, before turning and leaving.

Rusalka, who had been working quietly on her own magic, gave Morrigan a nod and followed after Morana.

Morrigan stood panting, watching after her elder sister. Her limbs trembled with exhaustion, but she did as she was told.

It continued much the same for a week. Morana constantly pushed Morrigan harder and further. Morrigan desperately tried to hold in her magic.

She read the books, she learned as much as she could. She began to ask questions.

And one night, a new book was on her nightstand.

“Do you know who dropped this off?” Morrigan asked, but War only croaked. It was an old book, and didn’t smell of any one Quirlicorn. It certainly wasn’t from Morana.

It spoke of an old, long forgotten magic. Powerful magic that was created by sacrificing a part of oneself.

As she read, an idea began to form.

They were already in a temple. It was simple to gather the necessary ingredients, which Morrigan quietly gathered between lessons. And a week to the day of finding the book, she snuck out and approached the altar.

She laid the necessary offerings upon the altar, then took a deep breath. “Here we go,” she murmured, glancing up to War who watched her silently from atop a half fallen column.

A simple cut was all it took, and her blood dripped upon the altar. Something within her seemed to pull free, shimmering in the air as the bloodied items began to rise from the altar, spinning around. The shimmering essence joined with them, beginning to solidify into a singular form.

When the light faded, a simple star shaped charm remained. An Artifact.

Exhaustion held Morrigan in its grasp, but she carefully braided it into her hair.

“What have you done.”

The words startled her, and she turned swiftly to see Morana taking in the scene.

The desperation that had plagued her grew as she stared at her elder sister.

“I needed to be stronger,” Morrigan defended, glaring at Morana. “No matter what I do it’s never enough for you! I needed more!”

“You have been here two weeks,” Morana replied, her face still devoid of any emotion.

“And in those two weeks I haven’t learned a damn thing!” Morrigan spat back. “All you do is avoid me and make me run. I haven’t even begun to learn my magic!”

“And you think adding more will help?” Morana pointed out. “If you truly understood what I had you read you would know a strong physical body makes it easier to manage that much magic. If you had truly read you would know that physical exertion and the mental exertion that comes with pushing past your physical limits will help you when you branch into learning that magic. With the amount of mental magic you have, in a mind as weakly guarded as yours… What's to say someone won’t just take it?”

Morrigan felt her limbs stiffen, and the feeling of her sense of self being slammed in a cage. She watched from inside, unable to do anything as her body moved around.

“You have never had to defend yourself against magic. You have never had to worry about your mental walls, mental strength. You have never had to worry about someone else taking it from you.”

Morrigan desperately grasped for any hint of magic, but it was only when Morana released her body that she felt like she could. And she did, she reached for it and tried her best to direct it, but was met with walls of steel from Morana. A mental defense so strong that Morrigan couldn’t even figure out where to begin.

Morrigan fell to her knees, panting from the combined trials of forming an Artifact, Morana’s attack, and her own desperate attempt at doing it back. Exhaustion weighed on her, her limbs shaking and ready to give out and let her lay on that cold broken ground.

“You were foolish, little crow,” Morana said, disappointment in her tone. It was the first time Morrigan had heard anything other than disdain or anger. The feeling of Morana’s disappointment felt heavier than her own exhaustion.

“I’m sorry,” Morrigan bit out.

“It was rash and irresponsible of you,” Morana continued. “Not only did you put yourself at risk, but you put everyone here at risk.”

Morrigan’s eyes met Morana’s, the blue fire meeting the cold green.

“You never said. You never say anything,” Morrigan replied. She truly felt like the fool, barely staying kneeling on the ground, looking up at Morana. But more than that, the anger was coming.

“You never took the time to explain that. You just tossed some books at me and expected me to figure it out myself. It’s not like I could even ask you questions! Any time I come into a room where you are you just leave! You run away as if that is going to fix things!”

“I never asked for you,” Morana spat, her cool mask slipping.

“I never asked for you either!” Morrigan shouted back, fighting back the burning in her eyes. She refused to cry in front of her. “I knew about you. I thought you just didn’t want to ever see me, to know me. After I heard you had no clue I existed… I was hopeful, hopeful that maybe I could have a sister. But I see now that it was stupid of me to ever think we could even be friendly. You will just abandon me the first chance you get, just like everyone else.”

“You aren’t the only one who has been abandoned, little crow,” Morana replied, turning and starting to walk away.

“Run!” Morrigan shouted after her. “Run! Like you do from anyone and anything that you might start to care for. Run you damn coward!”

Morana paused, and Morrigan saw her take a deep breath. But after a few moments, Morana just kept walking.

Her strength failed her, and Morrigan fell fully to the ground. She curled on her side, and only then let the tears come.

“What the hell happened last night, Morana?” Sidra hissed.

She had been enjoying a nice morning walk when she found Morrigan passed out in the temple. Her body raged with fever, and Sidra had swiftly gotten her to bed and set up with a healer.

Then she had come for Morana.

The mare in question was sitting and eating breakfast, staring at nothing and everything at once.

Thankfully Rusalka was out in the yard, gathering some wild berries. Sidra didn’t want her here for this.

“Morrigan crafted an Artifact,” Morana finally said, her voice emotionless.

“She what?! How did she learn about those?!” Sidra said, her shock evident.

Morana shrugged. “I went to her room last night, intending to have a talk with her. Instead I found it empty, and that book on the table,” she said, gesturing to an old looking tome with a barely visible title. “It goes through how to craft artifacts. I suppose she read it and decided to do it.”

Sidra looked between the book and Morana, shock coloring her features.

Morana looked up at her and sighed. “No, I didn’t give that book to her. I have no idea how she got it.”

Sidra shook her head. “And you… found her?”

“After she had crafted it,” Morana said. “We had… some words.”

“And you left her there.”

Morana said nothing. Sidra sighed with barely contained frustration.

“You and I will be having more words about this. But first things first, you need to talk to her.”

“Why?” Morana said, a bit bitterly. “I think last night proved that the last thing we need to do is talk.”

Sidra stomped her hoof, getting in Morana’s face. “Go. Apologize.”

“Why do I need to apologize?” Morana replied.

“Because at the end of the day she is nearly still a child, Morana. She is a teenager who developed a bunch of magic that she can’t control who was picked up and dropped off in the middle of the Mountains. She is lost. She needs someone to be there for her, to take care of her, even when she acts like a brat or lashes out. She needs you, Morana. Just like Rusalka does. How many times do I have to say it for it to get through your head?!”

Sidra sighed, seeing the far away look in Morana’s eyes. “You will not ruin them, Morana. Nor will caring about them ruin you. I know, I understand you never asked for this. But remember, they didn’t either. None of you asked for this to happen. It isn’t running laps or books or tough love that she needs. It isn’t food and shelter that they need. It is you.”

Sidra spun on her heel, storming away, leaving Morana with her thoughts.

Morana retreated to the temple where everything had happened last night. Bits of blood still stained the altar. Traces of magic still flowed in the air.

Morana sighed, sitting down and staring at nothing. Sidra was right, in a way. Morana had only let herself care for Sidra… well mainly because Sidra was powerful enough that if something went wrong she could handle it. Sidra was a powerhouse, born with magic and stronger than anyone Morana knew. If the Other part of Morana surfaced, if she ever delved fully down those dark paths that lay in so many directions from herself… Sidra could handle it. Sidra would be safe.

Rusalka and Morrigan, not so much. They were too young, too vulnerable. If Morana slipped…

And that right there was what scared her. She couldn’t get attached, she couldn’t care for them, because if she did, and something happened… that would be the end for Morana. There would be nothing keeping her from letting herself go, from embracing the darkness. Sidra was an anchor, one strong enough to drag her back. She didn’t want to drag anyone else down with her.

The sound of steps alerted Morana to the presence of another, just as much as the soul bond did. She looked up to see Rusalka looking at her, expression pensive.

“I understand,” Rusalka said finally. “I really do.”

“What do you mean?” Morana asked.

Rusalka moved closer, and sat down. “We are soul bonded. I understand better than anyone I suppose. There is a fear to getting close, to not being able to handle the loss if they go.”

Morana sighed. “When did you get so wise?” She asked, her tone a bit teasing.

Rusalka smiled slightly. “I’m okay, if you were wondering. I don't need you to turn all mushy motherly on me. I like what we have.”

Morana considered that. “What would you change?” she finally asked.

Rusalka thought about it for a moment. “It would be nice if you asked how I was. If you took the time to listen to me when I needed to complain, or were simply by my side when I needed you,” Rusalka admitted.

“I’m sorry,” Morana replied softly, looking down.

“It’s okay, I have made friends here who help me when I need it.”

“I really haven’t been that good to you, have I?” Morana asked.

“You try,” Rusalka offered, but even that sounded thin.

“I could try harder,” Morana pointed out.

“That you could,” Rusalka replied with a soft laugh.

“I’m going to try harder,” Morana decided.

“Start with Morrigan,” Rusalka said. “I have others I can lean on. Between the lessons and reading Morrigan hasn’t had any time to really get to know the others. She only has you.”

“Sidra is there for her,” Morana pointed out.

“It’s not the same,” Rusalka said, giving her a pointed look.

Morana sighed. “Fine,” she replied. “Really, when did you get so wise?”

Rusalka simply laughed.

Morrigan sensed the presence beside her as her fever dreams began to lift their hold. Strange dreams, full of darkness and turmoil, had plagued her. But the presence beside her caused them to recede, allowing her to wakefulness.

She opened her eyes to find Morana beside her.

“Before you say anything,” Morana said. “I just want to say… I’m not good at this. I didn’t ask for this, and neither did you. That much is clear. I… I don’t know how to be a good friend, or a good mentor. Or a good sister for that fact. The only sisters I knew about were my half sisters, and we… we are just too different. They live in the light, in the good. I do not, and nor do I suspect do you. And to me… That is something that I don’t know how to deal with. But… I promise I will try.”

Morrigan watched as Morana took a deep breath, and stood.

“I just wanted to say that,” she said, before leaving.

Morrigan watched her go and turned that over in her head. Neither of them knew how to approach their… relationship, if it could even be called that. Morana hadn’t apologized, nor did Morrigan expect she would. But she had offered something that meant more.

Morana would try. And as Morrigan lay there, she decided that she would too.