Witchblood [Dark Fantasy Idea, Seeking Any - Heavy Worldbuilding] [Taken]

[Wistful Dream]

Dark Fantasy

Tags: Destroying Patriarchy | Female Rage | Bargain Struck
Likely to include: Dark romance, violence, vengeance, dismantling oppression, political intrigue

An Opening...

'It's not like it happened to you, darling, if it had things would be different but... well she's not going to matter much in the end.'

The words, heinous and wretched, so dismissive, haunted her thoughts as Dahlia Valar raced down the stone steps of the terrace that would allow her to lose herself into the gardens and from there escape the confines of Karthmere manor. Just this morning she had returned from her stay at Alderthorn, a training ground for the young ladies of Albion who had any spark of magic to claim as their own. Magic was what had originally separated the nobles from the commoners, though this was no longer true for centuries past, still there were certain expectations of what a gifted young woman would provide to any potential suitor, and the training increased their allure when it came time for their debut. Hers was to happen this very evening, yet now she wanted nothing to do with the simpering courtesies in a ballroom, especially knowing that Henry Valar, her uncle, would be attending.

Winding her way through the formal gardens she rapidly reached the gap in the hedges that would allow her into the wilder lands beyond the estate's boundaries swiftly. There her hands fisted in the plum silk of her dark day gown, clutched tight in hands clammy from fear at what she was intending. But for Violet she would put aside her own fear and doubt, and so she did not turn to look back at the supposed safety of her family's manor. Clearly she was no safer in those hallways if the right price was paid than she was in the mist and fog of the wild wood that most avoided.

Ms Rebekah had never feared the woods; indeed there had been many a spring and summer day where she would take the two young Valar girls into them, teaching them of the land they had come from and the true use of the power that ran in their bloodline. Those had been easier days, before she had turned twelve and with her first bleeding come into the gift of magic. Before she had been forced to leave Violet here, just two years her junior for the rigors of Alderthorn's training. And then Violet had had her bleeding, the becoming of a woman and it had been found her gift was so minor there was no point to train it. The hope of Violet joining her had been dashed, yet this morning she had learned what other hopes had been destroyed. Now Dahlia struggled to breathe around the tight corset she had been laced into, skin chilled as she navigated the russet and auburn of the woods in fall.

Her heart raced, to step off the last of the delineated path, forsaking the facade of safety for the danger of the wild. With magic she was a tempting target to the elder forces that lurked yet in the woods, most though were thought to slumber unless specifically enticed. Her throat worked as Dahlia faced what her mad plan was, to seek out an elder being of some sort, to invoke the magic in her blood and barter with herself to avenge the wrong visited upon her younger sister. It was insanity, and yet she would not turn back now; something had to be done and it was clear her mother with her mocking laughter and her father with the dismissal had no intent to provide any help. Not that they ever had. It was not just Violet they had wronged, but also Rebekah, dismissing her, rebuking her, leaving it so that the woman who had been surrogate mother to two lonely girls could find no work of her own. In the end Dahlia was the only person who could do anything.

The fallen leaves that carpeted the forest floor crinkled and gave under her boots as she hastened through the trees. Of the old stories she knew the surest way to find an elder being lay in the ruins of prior places of power or old hills with no apparent openings. It just happened that they had ruins in the forest, and a mound with no entrance amid those ruins. Adrenaline pushed her feet as she raced toward the place time had forgotten, consigned once more to nature's embrace. Over a small stream she leaped, and around fallen trees she darted, sweat slipping down her neck and along her spine. It was early fall, not yet Hallow's Eve, yet she could not shake the chill in her bones as she neared the crumbling stone covered in moss and fallen leaves. She had been here only once, with Violet and Rebekah; it had been a bright spring afternoon, and in the company of the other two the place had simply been a delightful history lesson with a small thrill of the forbidden.

Now though, she had intent.

Dahlia drew to a halt before the ruins, stopped just before their boundary to gaze at them, at this place of ancient power. Her heart still raced, and her hands, as they lowered her skirts, trembled. Nerves would not do, her mind had to be clear, focused on her purpose and nothing else. Inhaling deeply she inhaled the scent of the woods, of loam and moss and wild, her hands smoothing the silk of her gown as she drew on everything she had learned at Alderthorn. No unease should show, no doubt. She was here to demand justice, and she had the bargaining chip of herself, of the magic in her blood and the tie to the throne of Albion. A lesser branch of the royal family, she was simply Lady Dahlia, her parents a Count and Countess, but it was still strong blood, and her magic was deep. Any ancient being should delight in that, she prayed.

Over the boundary she glided, moving as if she were in a ballroom with all the refined poise taught mercilessly to her in the past seven years of her life. At nineteen she was a beauty by her people's standards, hair of a sable so dark it often appeared raven black, eyes of bright sapphire, smooth, flawless skin, her magic so bright it burned away the impurities of her body and left her slender and delicate. She had been taught to entice, to flirt and flatter, it had been to ensnare a proper husband, a game to begin this evening at her debut ball; now she would use everything she had been forced to learn to avenge her sister and her governess. Through the ruins she moved, shoulders back and chin raised, a prickling of awareness down her spine that hinted of the powers that lingered here in repose.

Now she would rouse them.

From the pocket cleverly sewn into her gown Dahlia withdrew the slender blade used in rituals for her magic. She had learned only delicate, polite things, blood hardly ever called for and never more than a prick of the finger at most. Now she abandoned that, drawing the blade across her palm ruthlessly, wincing only for a moment before she closed her palm around the cut and walked to the beginning of the sloping hill. It was there she opened her bloody hand, letting the sanguine liquid fall from her skin toward the ground that hungered for the taste. The air changed, shifted, the sense of being watched increased.

"I've come to bargain! Show yourself so we may discuss terms, ancient one of the wild wood."




Hello, and thank you for reading the above if you did in fact. I attempted a story like this several years ago, enough to have an intro post that presented the idea fairly well, but died after just a few posts. Due to the current state of the world I find myself wanting to give it a go again, writing the rage of a woman burning the world down and reforging it into something better. Fantasy fulfillment, but writing is a powerful way to process things and escape, so here I am.

A few notes -

• This will not include on screen rape - the lack of women's agency is part of what will be avenged in this story, I have no interest at ALL in writing non con.
• Different themes - I am primarily a noble bright type of writer, I like writing the 'good', and aiming for happy endings. While this will be a darker story thematically I still want romance, hope, and healing to factor in.

Now to expand on the premise.

The thought is she strikes a bargain with an elder being that has been sealed away/cut off from the world. Since the other writer vanished I've toyed with world building ideas a bit and had the notion that witches originally made the bargain with other worldly beings for power and ruled society until the men grew jealous, broke the covenants, weakening the demons/whatever they are, and eroded the culture over time. Now the culture is in decay, magic is on the decline, and our heroine is unknowingly returning to the oldest roots of her culture.

Once the bargain is struck, her, her magic, a living link to the mortal world, the Entity will become mentor in forgotten magic, and essentially a murder happy beast leashed by her blood vow and intent. In their stalk and murder of her uncle they discover there's a whole rotted linking of people doing as he has, and so as she dances through ballrooms and attends garden parties they investigate the sins of those in power, bringing them to account.

I don't envision Dahlia as gleeful about the death, she is doing this to protect those who are not valued, who have no one else to protect them. The killing is simply justice for her, and food for the Entity. I imagine them bickering a bit over who deserves their 'justice'. Not precisely like Venom and Eddie Brock but similar enough. The intent grows beyond them, becomes the seed for a rebellion, a revolution. I'd love to really dig into world building and create layers to this.

As to the Entity, I used demon earlier, or elder, I'm very open to what exactly it is. Just some primordial ancient power that's a bit kill happy with morally gray motives but a strong impulse to protect the woman that now is bound to them. Could be male, female, or utterly fluid. I imagine it can shapeshift to appear human/normal (if there's creatures other than humans we want in the world) so it can interact with others. A thought is to have it act like a suitor or a fellow debutant to give reason for them to be close and moments to build tension.



I realize this is a lot, but hopefully it speaks to someone. Please review my Ons and Offs to see what my limits are, due to the nature of this idea I expect there will be a lot of discussion about different elements.

[Wistful Dream]

Reopening this idea.