Forsaken Ch. 00

She headed for the towel hanging on the back of her door, tossing a glance back at Bridget before she left the room. "I'm going for a shower, okay? Go get some sleep, I'm sorry to wake you."

Bridget sighed, "You're going to blow this off again, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Ingrid called back from the bathroom before closing the door behind her, effectively ending the conversation. She leant against the door, eyes screwed shut tight until the savage image of her lycan assailant flashed into her mind.

Her eyes popped open instantly, wishing to erase the sight of the vile creature. She showered vigorously that night, scrubbing at her pale skin until it turned pink and tender. All she wanted was to rid her body of the stink of the woods and wolf, a scent that seemed to cling to her even once awake.

Since birth her people had been taught that the lycan's were evil. They were their suppressors; their overlords. They were cruel and vindictive, and would not hesitate to kill a witch if given the chance. They were the reason the witches had to practice their craft in secret, had to hide in the shadows and illegally amass behind closed doors.

But Ingrid had not been raised with her people. She had been raised by her mother and father in a small townhouse in Brighton as an ordinary human, and only once her abilities began to manifest had her enigmatic Aunt Edyth come to call on her to join her Coven.

Not every child born to a witch had magic. Many did not, like her cousin Bridget who knew every type of plant and potion under the sun but could not cast a simple spell to save her life. Or her mother, the elder sister to the strongest High Priestess in all of Great Britain, who happened to be born with no supernatural gifts at all.

It was very common for magic to skip generations, but that didn't mean her parents hid her lineage as she grew. She was told all about where she came from, what her people could do. It wasn't a surprise to them when her magic finally began to manifest.

She had been twelve at the time; young and naive and full of dreams of grandeur. She had accepted the offer to learn from her Aunt, eager to begin a life of excitement and incredible power. Her Aunt had shown her many things, had taught her so much...

But what she had learned in the ten years she spent under her tutelage had all meant nothing once she had faced just how power hungry her Aunt truly was. Edyth was willing to do anything, hurt anyone... and if you stood in her way, may the Goddess Hecate help you.

Ingrid had witnessed firsthand just how brutal and uncaring her Aunt could be. She had watched a woman, a fellow witch and friend to her Aunt, be burned alive at the stake for a crime that seemed so ridiculous...

Ingrid flinched, pushing back the black memories that surfaced. The desperate, agonised screams of the woman. The foul, acrid scent of burning flesh in the air... This was a memory she did not like to dwell on. Ingrid had spent a chunk of her life being groomed by her Aunt to become the perfect killer, but she had not truly realised it until that day.

And so she had chosen exile over murder. She had willingly become what the witches referred to in hushed, disgusted tones as Forsaken.

Edyth did not stop her from leaving once she had made up her mind. They were family, after all. But in abandoning the Coven she had stripped herself of all contact with their world; had essentially died in their eyes.

Still, Ingrid knew that if she changed her mind and begged for forgiveness she would be accepted by her Aunt without question to re-join their righteous cause. She had been on her way to becoming her right hand, after all. The thought made her sick.

She wanted no part in it, no place beside a blood hungry megalomaniac. Now all she wanted was to forget.

She had been Forsaken from the Coven for almost two years now. Ingrid had moved back to Brighton to share a flat with her cousin, while Bridget studied botany religiously and she worked part-time at a Burlesque Club called 'Gaslight' in the Red Light district.

It was a repetitive, predictable lifestyle which didn't suit her restless nature one bit, but it was one she hoped would keep her hands clean. Well, clean-er. Her greatest fear was to end up like her Aunt; obsessed with power, forever starving for more... To become someone who could kill a friend without blinking an eye.

When she finally exited the bathroom Bridget was blessedly asleep in her bedroom across the hall, which meant no more awkward questions she didn't have the answers to. Thank goodness for small favours.

She padded quietly through her room and settled down into the double bed, knowing that there was no way she would fall asleep again tonight. Sure, she was tired. She was always tired these days. Her eyes found the little digital clock on her bedside table in the dark, the glowing numbers reading '3:55am'. Ingrid sighed.

As much as she wanted to rest, she didn't dare risk sending herself back to that dream forest to face the white lycan waiting within. Sitting up, she turned on the lamp beside her bed and pulled out the book she kept in her bedside drawer for emergencies like this. Settling into her pillows, she began to read.

Ingrid didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

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A/N:

Well, there you have it! The prologue to Forsaken is up, so tell me what you think if you've got a moment spare. Till next time,

TR