from the OralTraditions of DacianLore . . . .ACulturalCautionaryTale
"You should know to begin that Merlin was no simple sorcerer at all. Vampyre was he, of the nosferatu bloodline, made by the Mother of us all. But Makings are manifold, precarious things, as full of curses as they are of riches. And Merlin's curse came to be the bastard sister of King Arthur himself, Morgana. Hound did she the exaulted Merlin upon the nights from the moment she'd chanced to stumble across his magik weavings through the forest one dark eve. Voracious beast was Morgana in her dark, red heart, hungering to become that which had bestowed upon Merlin his omnipotence and enchantments.
"O, how the bitch starved for Merlin's power, but for more as well, his passion, his life. She ached for him to be her own completely, to share him with no other man, nor beast of the forest.
"Morgana, true temptress that she was, for beautiful wa she beyond all womanly radiance, fiercely intelligent besides, with the appetite of a lioness for all the knowledge to be had in the world, and beyond.
"So, how could Merlin do any other than fall to her charms, her hunger? Nosferatu was he, with the weakness of such creatures for things of wondrous beauty and devilish souls.
"And so, Merlin did Make Morgana, took her blood to mingle with his own, and, transfigured, gave it back into her body from a silver chalice molded in the shape of a dragon. He taught her the ways of blood, the delectable arts of night, mind, spirit. And for a time, Morgana was appeased.
"And then, inevitably, it came that her hunger took on another shape entire as her hated brother's power grew through all the lands of Camelot. Covet did she his might, his very throne, the ardour he inspired in his subjects, and as the seasons spun by across the lands, her craving, her envy grew until she had no recourse but to answer it lest it drive her into utter lunacy.
"It was at this time that Merlin was instructing her in the arts of transmutations of the flesh. The evening came that she left her lover~mentor, with soft lies falling from her lips sweet as honey, but fooling noone, and took herself to Arthur's castle in the form of a dove.
"Seduce did she the King with his wife's face over her own, quickening the soil of her womb with his seed which nine months hence would make itself known in the form of a golden boy whom she intended usurp the King's place upon the throne. And, succesful would she be in this dreadful intrigue, but this night had not yet come to its conclusion, and within its dark heart awaited a lesson for Morgana.
"In her bird's form did she fly the dark eve, intending to return directly to the crystal and gem encrusted caverns she inhabited with Merlin. But, with creatures such as herself, distraction, curiosity and envy are usually the reason for their fall. And upon her flight, Morgana was suddenly distracted by the appearance of an unusually massive serpent thrashing about beneath her upon the forest floor as it went about its natural business of constricting a huge wild boar for a late meal. Morgana glided down upon her wings into the glade where simple, brutal, beautiful nature was about, and laughing unkindly at the greusome scene unfolding before her bright eyes, she was most inspired for some mischief to incorporate the serpent's shape and have a nasty row with it for the squeling boar.
"She began the converting and reshifting of her particles, however, only partially trained as she was in this always perilous art of transmutation, she learned instead that even nosferatu are not infallible.
"Her shapes melded, collided, fused, and the agony of this was swift and brutal as the blade of a thousand swords piercing to her very bones simoultaniously. She screamed, shrill and inhuman through the dark night for a very long time, until at last, the agony became the norm in her instant reality, and she was able to capture from within a deep. integral will which permitted her long crawl back through a soft rainshower to the crystalline and marble lair of her mentor.
"Merlin watched her from the shadows as she trailed in blood with the rain, her tears like ruby pearls falling from her red rimmed eyes of gold. He ached tremendously for her pain, but the lesson she was to learn from her consequential error in judgement had to take her to its conclusion, or nothing would be gleaned from her wilfull iniquity.
"Morgana dragged herself across the white marble of the floor on palms sprouting albescent from the base of dove wings, her torso white and fine and scaled as if with jewels and diamonds. Her tail was the blue of dusk, delicately scaled and irridescent, whipping back and forth to aid her struggle for the warmth of the fire in its albescent hearth of marble.
"And at last, there, where the fire burned, did she lower her cheek onto the golden bricks. A trickle of blood seeped from between the full rose of her lips, pooled into a delicate drop beneath the cream silken flesh of her fine fac.
"Rain came to whip its wet rage into the the hall of the caverns and caves on a wind fierce and crying its own lament to lift Morgana's silver strands of hair to dance the torrential air.
"For Merlin, the moment was captured in horror and grace, and many a time did his will to stand at bay and permit her suffering snap in twain until he could bare her agony no more. He came out of the shadows as the moon dipped low beyond the crescent open dome of the hall, but heartbeats before the terrible dawn was to break across the lands.
"he came to stand beside the twisted shape of his pupil, his obdurate lover, and bent low to touch her sweat sheened face become silver and white so that she was moved to gaze up into his eyes of gray~blue so full of pity.
"Seeing this awful pity, she asked nothing of him, for her pride was greater than her agony, her very reason. Stubborn was the fierce and foolish Morgana, and to ask for mercy, she never would. For, how could her vanity and pride permit this, when all she'd ever done was demand, and demanding, receive.
"Merlin could look upon her struggle no more though within her eyes he saw a callous hardness she'd never forfeit and he bent low over her ache and unraveled her composition with a soft stroke and a whisper.
"Morgana shuddered at the feel of old, old power in the touch of his hand upon her throat. Her spine arched and hollowed and her mouth opened wide to suck air into her lungs as she went about convulsing out of her mutation. Her tail split in twain, and feathers fell from her wings edged in morning blue.
"Rain was everywhere, blood a dark pool upon the floor.
"And once more, Morgana became a woman, but at the end, goodness, with what a scream!
"Merlin left her shivering form then, saying nothing, his disappointment in her, his ire and distrust, clear enough in his eyes.
"Morgana lay upon her side, gazing after Merlin, indifferent to his disillusionment, his anger. And she thought of how she'd always loved the rain, how she'd dance as a fairy child beneath its chill kisses with her winged mother flitting from tree branch to tree branch. Thought of how fierce it had poured the night her human sire came ablaze into the fairy glade to slice every dream apart on some new strange crusade for gods noone had before heard of. How severe a storm it had been the night she'd gone into the keep to slice her sire to pieces and chew his heart ever so slowly before his dying eyes.
"Morgana sighed, closed her eyes, fell into a sleep full of dreams guided by the soft drumming of the rain against the marble of the floor.
"She dreamt hard and deep of her to be golden son piercing the heart within his sire's breast with a sword of liquid gold enchantment, of her beautiful boy drinking the blood that welled up from Arthur's mouth like an indecisive waterfall.
"And sweet, terrible Morgana, who'd once been a fairy child dancing through trees and sipping pollen from blossoms, smiled in her sleep."
~There are endles cultures across the globe with endless retelling and variations on familiar tales. We are still reshaping what in the end was based in some form of truth so many, many hundreds of thousands of years gone past.~
copyright:1996victoriaseleneskyedeme
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