Toirasa Ravenswood

High Tide

Her footsteps, even when angry, always ambled towards the shore.

Toirasa stomped down the pebbled beach, not sure where she was going. She had taken Aderise’s advice to heart, and after packing her bag, had taken what few possessions she had left in the world and just…begun walking. It had been days now, and at last she had left Stormsong and entered the autumnal hills of Drustvar. Toirasa had marched straight to the sea, standing up to her knees in salt water as the sun set before her. A walk on a western shore with thoughts such as hers had once been an omen of ruin. Now, Toirasa knew there was no point to fear it. Asar was gone, the same way Sindorel, Thalassa, and the Felclars she had loved were gone. For perhaps the first time ever, Toirasa was well and truly alone.

Aderise didn’t want you there because you’re weak. She had been arguing for days with the voice in her head, and at this point — a few days without food, though water was easy to conjure and plentiful — she was in no shape to argue. No one wants you around, because you’re weak.

Slowly, the tidesage sank to her knees in the cresting waves. Jade eyes watched the horizon, the salt in her face and water against her body almost entirely unnoticed. “If only I could pray for Asar…” she mumbled softly, as if anyone could really hear her. “Where’s my vengeance? Where’s my great change?”

She had never gotten it, not really. Not on Fay’line, for killing Thalassa; not on Bexila, for all of the things she’d done to Toirasa and her friends. Not even on Asar, or Sindorel’s clone that had treated him so cruelly. Certainly, she had dumped the harbor on Aniel — but that was all she was good for. Moving water and blessing ships.

Toirasa sighed. With a wave of her hand, she split the incoming tide, leaving her dry as the water continued to crash around her. “Some great power.” She could not help but feel angry at what she had done — or more accurately, what she had not. She had run from her problems and stuck her head in the sand. And then the world had gone on, disastrous and pendulous, and Toirasa had stayed exactly the same. Not a fighter, not a soldier that her friends could rely on. Just a water mover, a thing-finder. She had the audacity to act surprised that such things would happen, but really, she ought to have anticipated it. Toirasa frowned in distaste, an unusual look on her, and flung her power out like a slingshot. It parted the sea for at least twenty feet before she snapped it back, the water crashing into itself with a roar.

Perhaps your fault is that you’ve simply never thought big enough. You could do so many things with your magic if you weren’t a coward. That inner voice in her head, the whisper she’d not heard the end of since that day she’d been pulled from her own body, was growing louder and more insistent. Toirasa could swear that it almost sounded like Bexila — promising, alluring. Powerful. She had always envied the other woman for her great strength, even while hating its origin. She wished, though privately, that it had been she who had struck the deal with Asar. She just wanted to be strong, really. Strong enough to crush the evil in this world, and save those good to her and others. And with Thalassa gone, she was next to nothing.

“I hate feeling useless!” The words broke free from her throat, ripping through the air. She stood, stomping into the sea, until the water rose to her waist. “I hate it! I can do great things! I can — turn this world to nothing but a watery grave! Can your fancy arcane do that?” She did not know who she was shrieking at, power encircling her like a dangerous mantle. She let out a frustrated noise, bringing her arms up above her head. Eyes fixed on the sky, she let her magic soar with a straight shot towards the stars, slamming into the atmosphere. At once, thunder began to rumble from clouds newly summoned. Toirasa laughed, tired and angry, as lightning struck a nearby cliff, sending rocks down into the thrashing waves. She didn’t seem to care that the weather she had conjured was pushing the water higher. She still stood with her hands in the air, screaming into the wind.

“I did that! I did that! None of you could control the weather like I can! I can — I can do anything I want! I’m a witch!” The last word echoed off of the rocks behind her, bouncing off of them and disappearing into the hills beyond. Toirasa laughed; she could feel some part of her breaking, some part of her that had once been good and whole. But piece by piece it had shattered, pure intentions and well wishes worn down by hatred and pain. And finally, with the death of Sindorel at the hands of Casinthya, with hearing her friends had gone and fought and grieved without her, those good parts of Toirasa Ravenswood had finally crumbled to dust.

Her tears broke then. Laughter cracked in a desperate sob, as she pulled herself back into shore. The rain she had summoned pelted her back, a fitting tribute to the tears dripping onto the sand. She knew she mourned for not only Sindorel, but the loss of her idyllic life as well. The life that had been full of nothing but communion with her goddess, devotion to her magic, was as destroyed as the Phoenix Spire. Her people had disappeared, to find other paths. Sindorel had gone to his last and final death. And now Toirasa too would drown in her feelings and grief, and emerge a new creature.

The rain slowly moved on. The tide rose, then fell again. Toirasa didn’t know exactly how long she had sat there — how long she had cried. But at last, the slight warmth of sunshine hit her cheeks, and she raised her head to the sky. To the mountains. Witch. The voice still whispered in her mind, and this time she did not try and argue with it. You could be a real one, you know. Not a tidesage. A real witch. They live in these hills. You’ve heard the rumors.

Toirasa’s eyes scanned the brown and scarlet trees of Drustvar. “What do I have to do?” Her voice felt far away, even to her own ears. Hoarse, she realized. She’d lost it in the crying.

Reach out and take it. Use it to change your world. Punish those who’ve wronged you. The voice didn’t even need to be seductive. The pure thought of being able to change anything meaningful was more alluring than gold or sex. Toirasa reached out a shaking, salt-stained hand as if she could physically grab hold of the power that seemed to rest just beyond the veil of reality. She had not noticed it before in her fervor, but now the strange magic seemed clear as day. The resulting touch of the force against her skin was electric. She flinched, a blue-black sparkle of the unfamiliar caressing her fingertips before disappearing. “Drust….magic.” She remembered the tales. The women who killed their husbands, strung up towns. Men and women both who changed into fearsome creatures. The ghost stories that haunted the hills. Perhaps the Drust magic was real. Perhaps she wasn’t dreaming. Toirasa pushed herself up, out of the sand, and began slowly trudging towards the path up the cliffs, towards the forests. She could feel the pieces of that goodness inside of her failing bit by bit, almost a physical hurt. But she could not put them together again. She could not look back and mourn what she had lost to get here. There was only forward, into Drustvar.

She didn’t need the whispering voice any more to tell her what to do. The only voice inside of her head now, was her own.

Find the witches. Learn their secrets. Change the world.