Category:Moryn and the Witch

There once was a young man named Moryn from the industrial district of Leyad, who set out to find his fortune. He walked for days and for days without luck, turned away from every house in every village. Still, he persisted. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and those months eventually became three full years. It was after the third year that Moryn gave up hope at last. Like many before him, he resigned himself to a life in the mines.

It was on the trail back to Leyad that Moryn met the witch who called herself Aralla. Like him, she had left Leyad. Unlike him, she had done so centuries ago when Leyad was nothing more than a small mining town. She lived now in a tower in the forest, and had become accomplished at witchcraft. Understanding Moryn's despair, Aralla allowed him to accompany her back to the forest.

For twelve days, Moryn lived in the witch's house. He helped care for the menagerie of strange and exotic animals, some of which Aralla had found and others that she had created. As they worked side by side, Moryn found himself in love. Everything about her, the twitch of her lips when she smiled, the gentleness with which she handled the animals, the strange accent that wasn't quite Calthira, not quit Leyad. Everything of her was a wonder to him.

If Aralla suspected Moryn's true feelings, she did not show it. But she began to distance herself from him as they worked, and laughed less at his jokes. She tried not to notice everything about him that had become so familiar, the way he tried so hard to make her laugh, the nervous fidgeting with his hands. For Aralla knew something Moryn did not: they could never be together.

The witch had a secret, one she could not possibly share: she served the forest gods, the ancient deities long since lost. On the twelfth day, Moryn confessed his love to her. Aralla was devestated; she knew their time together was coming to an end. To reject Moryn meant he would leave the forest for good, and she would be alone again. Heartbroken, Aralla began to explain the conditions of her servitude to the forest gods, knowing that would be the end of things. Moryn was less accepting of this end; before Aralla could stop him, he took up a sword and ran from the tower.

The witch was accomplished not just in potions, but in the enchanting of weapons. She would take ordinary blades and cover them with oils and spells, so that they would be stronger or deadlier than otherwise. The deadliest of these swords was Taryol, a blade that would set fire to its target with one stroke. It was this blade that Moryn had taken.

Aralla could not stay in the tower: everything about it reminded her of him. So she set out to the ruined shrine, and prayed. What she did not know was that Moryn was on his way to the shrine, too. He did not know the path, so he carved his own. Anything that got in his way was burnt. It took him days and he had no food, but his fury fuelled him.

Moryn arrived at the shrine just as Aralla finished her prayer. She saw him, and saw the sword in his hand, and the flames behind him. She begged him to stop, begged him to turn away, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. Moryn completely ignored her, as focussed as he was on the destruction. He burned all the flowers and bushes in the clearing, then began hacking at the walls of the shrine. The sword Taryol only made him stronger. If he kept going, there would be nothing left of the shrine. When he advanced on the altar, Aralla threw herself in his path. Moryn did not stop in time. The witch who had lived for centuries fell, cut down by her own sword.

It was only when she lay dying that Moryn stopped. Horrified, he fled from the clearing. He went to the harbour, intending to board a boat and vanish completely from Calthira, but he paused as he stood on the docks. The shame and memories would follow him no matter how far he travelled. There was no point. Moryn jumped from the docks, and swam as far down as he could. Then, he closed his eyes. But a different god was watching, and would not let Moryn die so easily.

When Moryn opened his eyes, he could breathe easily. He could swim through the water effortlessly, and could see perfectly. He had become a fish. For the next year, he tried to end his suffering, but the ocean god was not content with his punishment yet. Fishermen's hooks never quite seemed to reach him. If he jumped from the water, waves would always pull him back in. All the predators of the sea seemed uninterested in him.

Eventually, Moryn gave up. He begged forgiveness from the god, and was offered a deal. Moryn would serve him for one hundred years, and only once that sentence was complete would he be free. The fish obliged, and has swam through the harbour ever since. Some sailors claim to have seen him from time to time, swimming aimlessly in circles, lost in despair.