Chapter 337: Morga (I)
Tracy stared at the atrocities in front of her. The sight alone would have made even the blood of the gods and the goddesses curdle. Humans called this research, while the witches called it revolution. But her? She called it madness. The same madness that had been carried on and on for centuries, without stopping. Centuries of this stupidity, and yet Tracy had a very good hunch that this was not going to stop. Maybe if the goddess of magic had learned her lesson and realized that there was no point in manufacturing any more of these witches with a screw loose in their heads.
Honestly, how many times had she told that woman to take a closer look at the mess her children had made in this world?
"Like a gazillion times already," muttered the white owl.
Yup, she did and look where it has brought her. The development was insane. Catch on to the sarcasm here, okay?
The creature, most likely a poor soul from a rather twisted experiment, turned his head and looked at her. His eyes were filled with silent pleading as he hoped for freedom. Staring at Tracy, he silently begged her to release him from his agony.
Please.
"I will come back for you," said Tracy, her voice unnaturally soft even though she hardly ever used that tone on anyone. "Don’t worry; I will free you of this pain once I am done."
She wished she could help him, do something more for them, but other than giving their souls the freedom they craved while living in the form of this abomination, Tracy didn’t know what else to do for them. She was no goddess, and even if she wished to help these children, she couldn’t do that. Because no magic could undo what they were going through. Their sufferings brought a fleeting emotion, one that she had ignored for ages. It was painful but not hard to suppress.
Once you have seen enough, things get easier with time; after all, this was not the first example of cruelty that she had seen and certainly won’t be the last.
Tracy glanced at the living as well as the dead before continuing deeper into the underground labyrinth. Her heart felt heavy as she ignored the mutilated bodies that either had two heads or furry bodies with several human hands. Just what did that idiot do here? Was she really hell-bent on creating amorphous?
She has to be dreaming.
She came to a stop upon reaching what looked like a tri-junction. Her eyes flickered from one opening to another as she raised her hand and summoned a flicker of purple lightning. The sharp current flickered before catching the pulse of a familiar magic that made goosebumps break all over her skin. It was so distinct, so recognizable, that Tracy couldn’t deny the presence inside one of these dungeons even if she wanted to.
Turning a swift left, she entered the dungeon that was at the far end of the hollow, dome-like space.
The mud wall covered with moss and blood disappeared, and in place of it, the curved and arched wall of this underground corridor was now covered with marble. Sigils drawn from blood were scattered all over the place. Ancient yet not what they were taught when they were young. Someone had experimented on them, and they had done it quite crudely, without even knowing what they were doing, or they were so reckless that they didn’t care what they were doing or how many lives they were taking in their wake.
Then again, this woman had never been an empath. She couldn’t even see through the pain that she had caused to her own loved ones, much less care about those who had no relation to her. Obsessed and chaotic. She had always been a headache since she was young.
Tracy sighed, wondering where she had gone wrong with this woman, but then again, some witches had been absolutely psychotic since they were children.
Not bothering to play nice, Tracy raised her hand and flicked her entire arm forward. The invisible doors didn’t even have the time to open before they were sent flying. The entire doorway crashed and fell to the ground, reduced to nothing but scraps. The room behind the doorway appeared. Large and circular, with a bunch of statues and shrines created for the goddess of magic.
There were countless carcasses of animals and humans alike. As if the goddess of magic would accept these sacrifices. Tracy wondered when these practices even started with the witches and the wizard sacrificing the lives of the innocent without any restraints.
Tracy walked past the corpses scattered on the floor and looked at the blood sigil that was drawn on the marble. A large circle with countless runes written in and around the entire circle. And there she sat in the middle of the circle, cross-legged. One look at the young girl, and Tracy knew that this was not her real body. If it were, then this woman would have never let her catch her so easily.
The young lady in the middle was no older than sixteen, and she opened her eyes when she heard the sound of footsteps echoing in the silent room. Her blood-red eyes stared at Tracy with a look of annoyance on her face. Dressed in a gothic black dress with a matching headdress, the woman would have looked cute if not for the human skull, lemons and a voodoo doll sitting next to her.
"Morga." Tracy crossed her hands behind her back and calmly looked at the young woman. "How many times are you going to do this? I have told you already that this brings a really bad reputation to all of us."
The woman elegantly stood up on her feet, her eyes staring at Tracy with a look of sheer rage in her eyes. Though her expression remained blank. Centuries of living among humans, and yet she couldn’t learn how to show expressions like any normal person would.
Sigh. She really was bad at learning, wasn’t she?