11 Alisdair

11 Alisdair

A Royal witch's footfalls again shudder through the earth of Cameron estate, ebbing and flowing, nourishing and draining.

To the music in her blood, the young Cailleach was made to dance by a coven powerful enough to awaken the moon in the midnight

sky, abundant enough to inspire the lust and covetousness of every other coven in existence, a coven dangerously unprotected.

It is not merely my enemy that concerns me but the fate and very soul of Divinity.

She sees me but doesn't see me, and I must find a way to change that. There is much I could teach her, enough that, with the

power I sense in her blood, she might stand a chance. Minuscule, admittedly, but a chance is a chance is a chance, whereas,

contrary to her limiting beliefs, a bird is not always a bird.

Here in Divinity, precious little is what it seems.

The witch weeps, and despite what happened today, those tears give me hope. If I can reach her, she is there to be reached.

Her heart is light yet...

Ah, the savage vicissitudes of fate! Blood was spilled on hallowed, knowing ground, before she was pledged, and she drew power

to protect herself in the most perilous of ways!

She dances on a minefield of her own making.

Where is that stillness now, witch? You must find it again. It is all that will serve you, all that can save you.

Do not make the same mistake again.

It will bind you for life. At least, what little of it remains, should our enemy prevail.