part one — the introduction of Gwyn

( "In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways, and they're still beautiful." ) — Alice Walker

      Gwyn Desdemona loathed the acrid odor of belladonna. With each slow and deliberate inhale that filled her nose with a caustic feeling that suffused her with an airy ambiance, the intense divination in her easily overcame her vision as she closed her eyes. In spite of the clarity the flower brought her, she still didn't like the smell. She much preferred the aroma of lavender or marigolds. The deadly nightshade's smell intermeshed with the smoke of the dozen white candles that were intricately aligned with the meticulously drawn sigil on the rich soil of the cemetery. The moonlight of the new moon poured onto her like a docile waterfall, shrouding her with a purifying ward. 

      A vivid, mystical vision emerged from the cloudiness of the smoke. Before the image cleared from the murkiness, she could feel the pulses of malevolence ooze inside her like a baleful drum with a steady rhythm. From the gloom of her vision, her mother appeared. Gwyn slowly opened her eyes, meticulously analyzing the spectacle of the woman with the sleek hair and warm eyes. Her rosy cheeks were decorated with glimmering trickles of blood, as was her nose. Black spiderweb-like veins adorned her honey-colored skin, a wrenching consequence of dark magic. Gwyn expelled a jaded breath and rolled her eyes, waving a graceful hand to dissolve the vision. It worked; the image of her mother disappeared like water vapor on a chilly morning. She wasn't affected by the scene. She was aware this was merely a warning from the Spirits that continued to reside and roam Mystic Falls. She was entering dangerous territory. 

      Gwyn glanced around the emptiness of the woods that enveloped her. The quietness was unnatural. "You can't stop me. I'm stronger than all of you." She said, tenacity practically glowing around her. The truth of her words seemed to alter the atmosphere. The magic she learned was meant to be forgotten centuries ago. "And I've seen them. The visions show me your collapse. And I've seen the people who will sever your power. They're here and their blood will be your end." For one concise moment, she heard the whispers of the Other Side. She heard their fear. "You're afraid of my magic. You shouldn't be." The flames of her candles grew in an immeasurable length, the orange light contoured dark shadows on her face. "Dark magic is invigorating, beautiful even. You're afraid of the unbalance of nature; evils like Expression. That's child's play."

      She lifted her hands, darkness seeped from the ground like wisps of black. "I was made of something better the moment I took my first breath." The wisps cloaked her, shielded her as they radiated with an abysmal malevolence never encountered before. "You can experience this power, too. Just listen. Listen for the Call of The Void."