Morrigan: Dream Eater by Jade Gretz

https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai/art/Morrigan-Dream-Eater-1284240753?file=1

Morrigan: Dream Eater ANIMATION

Vesper of the Hollow

Morrigan was invited to the funeral by a letter that smelled faintly of jasmine and grave soil.

It arrived without seal, without courier, and without the smallest trace of enchantment that might have warned a wiser woman away. The vellum was heavy in her hand, the ink a lucid green-black that seemed to drink the lamplight. She read it twice with half a smile, her wings curled like dark petals behind her shoulders.

“An invitation from the dead,” she murmured, “or from someone hoping to join them. Either way, how charming.”

The letter named no corpse. It named no heir. It named only a place: Blackmere House, beyond the glass marshes, where the reeds grew in colors that did not belong to any honest dusk. A collection of mourners had gathered there to witness the sealing of an artifact called the Veil Heart, a relic said to bind restless magic beneath the manor’s foundations. The writer begged Morrigan to come, not for rescue, but for “balance.”

Balance was a word she liked. It often meant someone else was already tipping.

By moonrise she had reached the marsh road, where the air tasted like wet copper and old perfume. Blackmere House stood ahead in a crescent of dead trees, its windows blind with rainwater and its roofline bent like a question no one had answered. Lanterns burned at the entrance, their flames blue and thin.

The servant who opened the door wore no expression at all. “Lady Morrigan.”

“Your master is expecting me?”

“He expected someone.”

“That is delightfully vague.”

She stepped inside. The foyer was lined with mirrors, each one draped in black lace except for a narrow slit at eye level. From behind the cloth, a dozen pairs of reflected eyes seemed to watch her enter. The servants moved softly along the hallways, carrying silver trays of untouched wine and plates of sugared pears that had begun to blacken at the edges.

At the end of the corridor stood a man in mourning clothes so severe they made him look carved from shadow. He was tall, narrow-shouldered, and handsome in the manner of a blade. A gold ring glinted on one hand. The other rested on a cane of polished yew.

“Lady Morrigan,” he said. “I am Lucien Vale, keeper of Blackmere.”

She studied him with one languid glance. “You look like a man who has spent too long deciding whether to bury secrets or marry them.”

A flicker crossed his mouth. “I was told you are very direct.”

“I was told this house has a problem.”

“Yes.” He offered his hand. “Come. You should see what we have lost before you decide what to take from us.”

She did not take his hand. She followed him anyway.

In the west parlor, beneath a chandelier hung with obsidian droplets, stood the mourners: a white-haired alchemist with ink-stained gloves, two sisters in veils of mourning silk, a priestess with a cracked silver staff, and a boy no older than sixteen clutching a brass key so tightly his knuckles had gone pale. At the center of them all rested the Veil Heart, suspended above a pedestal inside a cage of sigils.

It was beautiful in the way a storm cloud is beautiful: a dark crystal pulsing with slow inner light, red as a wound seen through water. Morrigan felt it before she understood it. The thing was not merely enchanted. It was hungry.

The alchemist bowed. “Lady Morrigan, thank you. I am Mistress Edda. We require a practitioner of your kind.”

“My kind?” Morrigan tilted her head. “Please, do continue. I adore being reduced to a category.”

Edda looked at her as if deciding whether offense was a luxury. “A being of power. Someone not entirely mortal. The Veil Heart was stolen from the catacombs below the manor years ago. We recovered it three nights ago. Since then, the dead have begun to speak through the walls.”

At that, the priestess spoke for the first time. “Not speak. Whisper.”

The boy with the key swallowed. “And laugh.”

“Laugh?” Morrigan repeated, her smile thinning. “That is rarely a comforting sign.”

Lucien’s gaze moved to the Veil Heart. “We sealed it in the cellar vault. Tonight, at midnight, we planned to bury it beneath the ash garden. But the vault has begun to answer from the inside.”

The room fell quiet.

Then, from somewhere below them, came a knock.

Once.

Twice.

The sound of patient knuckles against wood.

The sisters crossed themselves. Morriga
...(more at https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai).
For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)