• Maryanne Johnson
  • Relica Enchanted, Volume II Preview: Chapter 35: Medea’s Story
Relica Enchanted, Volume II Preview: Chapter 35: Medea’s Story

The following is a preview or excerpt from the Relica Enchanted series, Volume II: Chapter 35: Medea’s Story available in e-book format on Amazon by Maryanne Johnson. Website: http://maryannesbookshelf.com

The noble wizard Sylvan began:

“There is a magic here, pure, unfettered, good, and just, that only seeks to make right all that is awry or maintain the balance and harmony of things within this world. Not all can enter here and for those that do, with questionable moral aptitudes they will not survive or thrive here long, which was the case with the witch Medea. Sometimes the hand life deals you, stems from circumstance, harsh fate and derision and you cannot help what you are to become, nor can you circumvent it because it takes over your being before you ever get the opportunity to run the course that should have been availed to you had tragedy not ensued. Medea was of good stock and breeding, but her circumstances delineated all that she could have been, before she was ever given a chance. Her fate was twisted rigorously and in retrospect, why she is who she is, is quite remarkably understandable to say the least.

Long ago, centuries over, as a toddler, perhaps no more than thrice years of age, she ventured into the woods with her mother, who was ever so loving and beautiful, to pick wild-berries, as the sweetest of berries could only be found in the deep woods. Her mother came across a patch of wildflowers like no other she had seen before in all her days and she set Medea down while she picked them, and upon inhaling the perfume these fluorescent and ever so unique flowers emanated, to the likes of gardenia with a hint of day lily, she was set into an instant daze, making her retire, putting her to sleep. When she awoke to see her daughter Medea missing, she frantically called out her name in dread, and stammered about the forest looking for her missing babe, screaming her name agonizingly, unsure how long she had been out and how far her baby could have ventured, deeper and deeper into the woods she ran, heart leaping deeper and deeper into fear, exuded from her eyes in tears –heavier than a rain storm afraid for the worst to come, until her foot became trapped on a vine and she fell to the ground, and as she looked up, at ground level, she met with the eyes of her child, Medea who looked back at her and smiled, and as her mother’s sporadic heart was quelled at the sight of her baby before her very eyes, hidden under a bush, it than sank into the darkest abyss of her soul at what was to happen next. The young mother saw her beloved’s smile turn to awe, and Medea’s eyes rise to the sky, a frown of fear upon her daughter’s face from what was towering over her mother. The stench of foul death and rotting flesh infiltrated the air and a dark, gargantuan shadow hung over mother and child, along with the sound of a heavy, grisly-like breathing sound.

The mother put up her index finger as if transcribing the number 1, and placed it over her lips, whispering faintly, “Shhh,” so Medea would know not to make a sound. Medea copied the sign language gesture her mother made to let her know she understood. Her mother could feel the mucous-like drool of the beast that towered over her drop and ooze down the back of her legs as she was still on her belly eye and eye with her daughter, perhaps for the last time she thought. She must steer this beast away from her daughter, she must protect her, at all costs, even if it meant her life. She looked eye in eye with her daughter, mouthing the words “I love you,” for what she knew would perhaps be for the very last time, as if to say good-bye and a tear trickled down her cheek ever so slowly as she smiled for the last time at Medea, wanting to remember her face and her beauty and all the love her child engendered as well as all the happiness and bliss her daughter’s presence blessed her life with. Until we meet again my darling daughter she said in thought as the towering beast put his gargantuan hand around her waist to pick her up. He was indeed an ogre with a ravenous appetite ready to consume her.

As Medea’s mother was raised into thin air by this beast, Medea wanted to cry and scream, however her mother –still staring into her baby brown eyes maintained the quiet sign, finger against her lips, to silence Medea in order to save her daughter’s life so she would not serve as the appetizer to this ogre if she made so much as a peep and was discovered. The ogre was named Madoff. Madoff took a knee and turned over Medea’s mother to take a good look at her. He saw her tear filled eyes and a look of contentment and acceptance in her face, at what was to happen next. “Aww, no need to cry beauty,” Madoff’s deep ogre-ish voice reverberated, “It will all be over sooner than you can think.” He delicately put his other hand towards the end of her body and as Medea watched, unbeknownst to Madoff the ogre, he broke her torso in two, entrails and inner organs and guts dropping to the ground with blood cascading in air to the earth and upon the ogre’s scaly repugnant knee. Next he tore her limbs apart, partaking in her broken ligaments and torn flesh like a man would a well prepared chicken or turkey leg, Medea, as a child, a tot, witnessing it all, with her finger to her lips in silence, shocked and melancholy, and alone.

It was believed that she partook of her mother’s bloodied entrails when Madoff left the site, done with his consumption of her mother, as she was starving and alone deep in the woods, with no shelter and no one to care for her. Search parties looked for this child and the mother for months, until the villagers finally gave up and her father drank himself to death from woe. Medea no doubt survived, having only been 3 years of age; the language she initially learned was of the forest. When I met her she could imitate the sound of the wind and birds and beasts remarkably, the only language she spoke. She had lived off of the remains of carcass’ left from animal kills or even beasts such as the ogre, but the important thing was that she survived. However, having seen her own mother brutishly slain and eaten before her very eyes at such a young age and having had to feast on her own mother’s entrails, made her more beast-like than human; some likened her to a cannibal because of it, whereas others took pity and understood survival at such an early age and her ignorance or lack of knowledge, being but a child. I came across her path when she was 7 years old. She had seen all kinds of slaughter and disharmony in the forest that perhaps there was no coming back from, as when I brought her here to this majestic place that I have sworn to protect, all kinds of disharmony ensued, as children are great imitators of the behavior they see. She actually tried to perform the ogre-ish act she saw happen to her mother on a gnomide. Luckily, I was able to prevent it. The simple fact is, Medea was too far gone at the age of 7 to ever go back to any civilized form or manner, and it was no fault of her own, just her circumstance, so I had to take her back to the deep woods where I found her and try to help her there. She was my pupil for some time, however, of all my teachings, hers soon turned to a dark magic and she turned into some kind of enchantress and then foraged on to become a witch. There was no spell or wizardry I could conjure to reverse her fate, and there was nothing I could say to bring her to her senses, as she suffered such a great loss with the loss of her mother and having had to witness her brutal and gruesome death early on in life. However, it is said in retaliation and as vengeance, her militia which is quickly gaining momentum, is comprised of ogres of whom she has enslaved and tortured, to include Madoff himself and his heirs and brethren.”

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