87th of Ash, 124 AS
Addendum Pending
It felt as if insects were crawling beneath Lyra's skin, biting and scratching as they scurried across her exposed flesh every waking hour of the day. There was no rest, nor relief from the sensation, and it was driving her mad. Every fiber of her screamed to be released, urged her to act, to strike back... yet she waited.
Deep, deep under ground within the layers of the 2nd deep was a forest of sickly black trees with azure leaves. Their roots rose from the ground in twisting knots, almost seeming to form glyphs or pictographs in the dirt where they rest. The forest itself was covered in a dense fog which settled at one's angles, like a river of smoke that flowed in slow steady circles around every trunk. This was her home, her domain within the Mirror Plane, or as close to being such that it did not matter. In the Prime Material realm her dark demesne remained the same, undisturbed since the time of her capture. Within the Nyxus, however, SOMETHING had come to call it home.
Lyra first felt the things presence three days prior. At first she had paid it no mind as it was not uncommon for things to pass through her domain before moving on. There were event a number of things which called her demesne home, especially in the Prime Material realm. Black shadows and sparkling blue will-o-whisps were a common sight one might see among the trees, along with the wispy forms of souls bobbing through the fog like boats on an endless sea. These things were expected, even welcomed in her lands, but what had come to settle there now was decidedly an invader.
It had settled near the heart of her demesne, digging itself into the earth like some parasitic leach in flesh. Were that all Lyra might not have minded, as it did not harm the land itself. It even had a habit of gathering creatures that strayed too close into its maw, creating pools of liquid darkness at its base which seeped into the ground and further fueled her power. No, were it just this Lyra would have abided by it, but it was a parasite in the truest sense. Even now Lyra felt it digging deeper into her domain, pulling aether she had carefully begun to collect and store in the area, feeding on the fruits of her hard work. It lapped up the growing pool of power at the core of her forest like some bloated tick on a deer's flank. Whats more, it disturbed her claim on the land itself. She could not say how, but it was steadily stealing away the demesne from her grasp. Not in the Prime Material realm, as that was where Lyra had first broken through. Rather, it was subverting her efforts to claim the demesne on this side of the Mirror for its own.
It felt disgusting. Like dirt under her nails, or an itch she could not scratch, but thus far she had been unable to wrench it free from her land. If only she were able to draw on the full extent of her abilities... but there was little point in falling to such thoughts of if and maybes.
The thing looked very much like one of the trees that filled her demesne. It was black with bark like skin, and its tentacles dug deep into the dirt, anchoring it in place such that even the strongest wind would not pull it free. Its limbs stretched up like mighty branches, clawing at the sky with points sharp enough to pierce solid steel. Gaping, mouth like holes filled with rows of pointed teeth covered its surface, opening and closing with wet popping sounds as it drew in the ambient energy Lyra had spent so long collecting in this place. It had fully taken over the area where the Cradle had once been, including the pedestal on which sat the largest of Lyra's blood crystals, and the shard of voidrillium. Lyra had noticed lines of violet energy had begun to trace up the things roots which linked it to the pedestal, a sign it was drawing on the power in that dragonshard as well.
When she first tried to uproot it the thing had simply shrugged off her attacks. Mesmer seemed to have little affect on it, and the power of Nyx she could muster seemed to do little against it. It was resistant to her manipulations, and again Lyra felt her lack of offensive abilities coming to haunt her. It was never her role to stand at the forefront of battle. She was one who sat near the edge, or the back. She provided support and aid, she pulled the strings from the shadows to make the puppets dance at her whim. What was she to do when faced with a tree that had no mind? She was no woodsman, nor could she swing an axe large enough to fell it in one swift strike.
Frustration gnawed at her as she hovered at the edges of her demesne, peering at the thing which seemed perfectly content to leave her be. It seemed totally unconcerned with her presence, which only served to heighten the fury in Lyra's chest.
"Curse that damnable weed." Lyra hissed through gritted teeth. The words were quickly followed by a string of expletives in the ancient tongue, phrases which had likely not been heard in thousands of year.
Her latest attempt had failed, gloriously so. The thing had simply swatted her strikes away, and while it could do no harm to her, she also could do nothing to harm it. This was one of the worst case scenarios for Lyra, who was already limited in the amount of aether she could expend at any given time. She had essentially been forced into a war of attrition, a war which she could not hope to win, not when it had secured her greatest reserve of power.
As the season progressed Lyra had made great strides to increase her current state. With a steady flow of blood her physical form had almost recovered. She still appeared a bit frail, her skin a more sickly grey than pale white, but the beauty she had known had returned in full. Silver hair flowed like rivers around her shoulders, and golden eyes set in slightly sunken sockets glowed with a fierce light as she stared at her current enemy. She had tried nearly everything she could think of which relied on her own power... and now she was faced with a troubling decision.
Thus far she had resisted calling on the souls she was connected with, both due to the strain it caused to use such power, and because of... other hesitations. A part of her balked at the thought of calling on someone else to aid her. She was thousands of years old, and since she was a child she had done things completely on her own. The world was a cruel place, especially to those who held no purpose in it, and Lyra had learned early she could not rely on others. This mindset was pervasive, and a cornerstone of her entire personality... Yet now, she found herself questioning. Since she was first freed from her imprisonment Lyra had lived much like she always had, purely and solely for herself. She had built up everything she possessed purely on her own merit, using only her own wit and ingenuity. In the past she had lived as Lyrielle, living purely in the moment, without care or worry and simply letting what may happen happen. She had needed no one, and no one had wanted her. Except for one. As Lyra she had lived as if she were completely alone, and with her newfound mental acumen (in part due to the shattering of her soul though she would never admit it) she had confirmed to herself that she could do anything she desired with her own power.
Then she had met others. The pup and his family, whom she had dismissed as pawns though she held some warmth for the golden haired one and the children. The prince and his readiness to offer hope to a monster like her. Her beloved had returned and gifted her with a child, and in that child Lyra experienced something she had never before. She felt... an urge. A desire to be with someone else. In that child's eyes Lyra saw a world where she was not alone, and she could not comprehend it. It made her think of the others she had met over the years, how they interacted with one another, how they had... relied on her in different ways. Lyra did not need them. She was capable on her own. She could, and would find a way to solve her own problems. She did not want anyone to see her lacking, see her weak... but, in all this time, Lyra has begun to understand what it meant to rely on others for aid, if only a little.
These thoughts and more swirled in her mind as her past self warred with her current situation. It was a fact she could do little against the invader, and time was not on her side. Perhaps she could find a way, but if she were to be honest with herself, she wanted help. The thought made her shudder.
Slowly, reluctantly Lyra reached deep within her soul space, passing her mind over the connections she possessed. She considered them each in turn, pausing on the one that shown with brilliant radiance and the one that was the darkness of the void itself. These two she knew could aid her, but... She could not bring herself to call on either of them. They were something else to her, people she wished to be the strongest in front of, and somehow to call them now felt as if she were giving away something precious. Maybe it was pride, but this small part of Lyrielle still remained in her heart, and she turned away.
Instead Lyra looked at another glyph, this one formed of frost and snow. It was shaped in an image reminiscent of a wolf, though the more one looked the more its shape shifted and changed. It was large within her soul space, as all soul glyphs of the divine were. Lyra reached out and touched it, feeling the frigid air fill her as her breath misted in front of her face. With a flash of power Lyra extended her hand, a trail of black smoke flowing from her palm. The smoke twisted through her fingers, its color fading to a light shade of blue as crystals of ice formed in its wake. Soon the smoke became a swirling mass of bluish white frost, and from it formed the shaggy form of a wolf whose shoulder was as tall as Lyra's head.
Lyra looked at the wolf, who looked down at her, and she signed and looked at the invader.
"Little pup... Perhaps you might be of use to me." Lyra paused, and frowned, "Perhaps you could assist me."
Addendum Pending
It felt as if insects were crawling beneath Lyra's skin, biting and scratching as they scurried across her exposed flesh every waking hour of the day. There was no rest, nor relief from the sensation, and it was driving her mad. Every fiber of her screamed to be released, urged her to act, to strike back... yet she waited.
Deep, deep under ground within the layers of the 2nd deep was a forest of sickly black trees with azure leaves. Their roots rose from the ground in twisting knots, almost seeming to form glyphs or pictographs in the dirt where they rest. The forest itself was covered in a dense fog which settled at one's angles, like a river of smoke that flowed in slow steady circles around every trunk. This was her home, her domain within the Mirror Plane, or as close to being such that it did not matter. In the Prime Material realm her dark demesne remained the same, undisturbed since the time of her capture. Within the Nyxus, however, SOMETHING had come to call it home.
Lyra first felt the things presence three days prior. At first she had paid it no mind as it was not uncommon for things to pass through her domain before moving on. There were event a number of things which called her demesne home, especially in the Prime Material realm. Black shadows and sparkling blue will-o-whisps were a common sight one might see among the trees, along with the wispy forms of souls bobbing through the fog like boats on an endless sea. These things were expected, even welcomed in her lands, but what had come to settle there now was decidedly an invader.
It had settled near the heart of her demesne, digging itself into the earth like some parasitic leach in flesh. Were that all Lyra might not have minded, as it did not harm the land itself. It even had a habit of gathering creatures that strayed too close into its maw, creating pools of liquid darkness at its base which seeped into the ground and further fueled her power. No, were it just this Lyra would have abided by it, but it was a parasite in the truest sense. Even now Lyra felt it digging deeper into her domain, pulling aether she had carefully begun to collect and store in the area, feeding on the fruits of her hard work. It lapped up the growing pool of power at the core of her forest like some bloated tick on a deer's flank. Whats more, it disturbed her claim on the land itself. She could not say how, but it was steadily stealing away the demesne from her grasp. Not in the Prime Material realm, as that was where Lyra had first broken through. Rather, it was subverting her efforts to claim the demesne on this side of the Mirror for its own.
It felt disgusting. Like dirt under her nails, or an itch she could not scratch, but thus far she had been unable to wrench it free from her land. If only she were able to draw on the full extent of her abilities... but there was little point in falling to such thoughts of if and maybes.
The thing looked very much like one of the trees that filled her demesne. It was black with bark like skin, and its tentacles dug deep into the dirt, anchoring it in place such that even the strongest wind would not pull it free. Its limbs stretched up like mighty branches, clawing at the sky with points sharp enough to pierce solid steel. Gaping, mouth like holes filled with rows of pointed teeth covered its surface, opening and closing with wet popping sounds as it drew in the ambient energy Lyra had spent so long collecting in this place. It had fully taken over the area where the Cradle had once been, including the pedestal on which sat the largest of Lyra's blood crystals, and the shard of voidrillium. Lyra had noticed lines of violet energy had begun to trace up the things roots which linked it to the pedestal, a sign it was drawing on the power in that dragonshard as well.
When she first tried to uproot it the thing had simply shrugged off her attacks. Mesmer seemed to have little affect on it, and the power of Nyx she could muster seemed to do little against it. It was resistant to her manipulations, and again Lyra felt her lack of offensive abilities coming to haunt her. It was never her role to stand at the forefront of battle. She was one who sat near the edge, or the back. She provided support and aid, she pulled the strings from the shadows to make the puppets dance at her whim. What was she to do when faced with a tree that had no mind? She was no woodsman, nor could she swing an axe large enough to fell it in one swift strike.
Frustration gnawed at her as she hovered at the edges of her demesne, peering at the thing which seemed perfectly content to leave her be. It seemed totally unconcerned with her presence, which only served to heighten the fury in Lyra's chest.
"Curse that damnable weed." Lyra hissed through gritted teeth. The words were quickly followed by a string of expletives in the ancient tongue, phrases which had likely not been heard in thousands of year.
Her latest attempt had failed, gloriously so. The thing had simply swatted her strikes away, and while it could do no harm to her, she also could do nothing to harm it. This was one of the worst case scenarios for Lyra, who was already limited in the amount of aether she could expend at any given time. She had essentially been forced into a war of attrition, a war which she could not hope to win, not when it had secured her greatest reserve of power.
As the season progressed Lyra had made great strides to increase her current state. With a steady flow of blood her physical form had almost recovered. She still appeared a bit frail, her skin a more sickly grey than pale white, but the beauty she had known had returned in full. Silver hair flowed like rivers around her shoulders, and golden eyes set in slightly sunken sockets glowed with a fierce light as she stared at her current enemy. She had tried nearly everything she could think of which relied on her own power... and now she was faced with a troubling decision.
Thus far she had resisted calling on the souls she was connected with, both due to the strain it caused to use such power, and because of... other hesitations. A part of her balked at the thought of calling on someone else to aid her. She was thousands of years old, and since she was a child she had done things completely on her own. The world was a cruel place, especially to those who held no purpose in it, and Lyra had learned early she could not rely on others. This mindset was pervasive, and a cornerstone of her entire personality... Yet now, she found herself questioning. Since she was first freed from her imprisonment Lyra had lived much like she always had, purely and solely for herself. She had built up everything she possessed purely on her own merit, using only her own wit and ingenuity. In the past she had lived as Lyrielle, living purely in the moment, without care or worry and simply letting what may happen happen. She had needed no one, and no one had wanted her. Except for one. As Lyra she had lived as if she were completely alone, and with her newfound mental acumen (in part due to the shattering of her soul though she would never admit it) she had confirmed to herself that she could do anything she desired with her own power.
Then she had met others. The pup and his family, whom she had dismissed as pawns though she held some warmth for the golden haired one and the children. The prince and his readiness to offer hope to a monster like her. Her beloved had returned and gifted her with a child, and in that child Lyra experienced something she had never before. She felt... an urge. A desire to be with someone else. In that child's eyes Lyra saw a world where she was not alone, and she could not comprehend it. It made her think of the others she had met over the years, how they interacted with one another, how they had... relied on her in different ways. Lyra did not need them. She was capable on her own. She could, and would find a way to solve her own problems. She did not want anyone to see her lacking, see her weak... but, in all this time, Lyra has begun to understand what it meant to rely on others for aid, if only a little.
These thoughts and more swirled in her mind as her past self warred with her current situation. It was a fact she could do little against the invader, and time was not on her side. Perhaps she could find a way, but if she were to be honest with herself, she wanted help. The thought made her shudder.
Slowly, reluctantly Lyra reached deep within her soul space, passing her mind over the connections she possessed. She considered them each in turn, pausing on the one that shown with brilliant radiance and the one that was the darkness of the void itself. These two she knew could aid her, but... She could not bring herself to call on either of them. They were something else to her, people she wished to be the strongest in front of, and somehow to call them now felt as if she were giving away something precious. Maybe it was pride, but this small part of Lyrielle still remained in her heart, and she turned away.
Instead Lyra looked at another glyph, this one formed of frost and snow. It was shaped in an image reminiscent of a wolf, though the more one looked the more its shape shifted and changed. It was large within her soul space, as all soul glyphs of the divine were. Lyra reached out and touched it, feeling the frigid air fill her as her breath misted in front of her face. With a flash of power Lyra extended her hand, a trail of black smoke flowing from her palm. The smoke twisted through her fingers, its color fading to a light shade of blue as crystals of ice formed in its wake. Soon the smoke became a swirling mass of bluish white frost, and from it formed the shaggy form of a wolf whose shoulder was as tall as Lyra's head.
Lyra looked at the wolf, who looked down at her, and she signed and looked at the invader.
"Little pup... Perhaps you might be of use to me." Lyra paused, and frowned, "Perhaps you could assist me."
