Ruins and Rags

Morgana’s fingers tightened around the scythe as she scanned the ruined room one last time. The air was thick with dust, the light spilling in through cracks in the walls faint and cold. She was about to step through the doorway when something caught her eye.

It was a book.

Not just any book, but the book—the same black-covered tome she had used in that strange, white void to design her new self. Her new name, Morgana Lilaris, was embossed across the cover in elegant silver script, almost glowing in the dim light. She crouched down and picked it up, brushing away a thin layer of dust.

“Well, aren’t you a familiar little shit,” she muttered, flipping it open.

The pages inside displayed neat, crisp text in a language she somehow understood without thinking—her character page. Abilities, skills, passives, and personal details all written out like some creepy personal file. No numbers, no stats, but still uncomfortably thorough.

“Guess you’re like my... magical ID card,” she mused. “Just hope you don’t start giving me motivational quotes.”

The moment she thought about how to carry it, the book pulsed once in her hand. Black mist bled out from its edges, curling around her fingers before swirling toward her wrist.

“Whoa—hey, the hell are you—”

The mist sank into her skin, icy and strange, crawling up her arm in thin tendrils until it settled into intricate runes that wrapped up to her shoulder. She stared at them for a long moment, then snorted.

“Alright, fine. Magic tattoo. At least I don’t have to carry you now.”

Shaking her head, Morgana glanced around the ruined chamber. The stone walls were cracked, the ceiling sagging under years of neglect. “Time to find some clothes before I start looking like the world’s weirdest streaker.”

She spotted the nearest door and stepped through into a long hallway littered with debris. The air was stale, carrying the faint, unpleasant scent of decay. “Lovely,” she muttered, her bare feet crunching over loose bits of stone.

Room by room, she scavenged. Most were empty—just collapsed furniture and piles of dust—but some contained skeletal remains slumped against walls or sprawled on the floor. She crouched beside one, rifling through its rusted armor.

“Nothing but scrap… and eugh, that smell.” She wrinkled her nose and moved on.

Eventually, she found a pair of trousers—dusty but intact—and an old linen shirt. She quickly held the shirt up to her chest, eyeing her wings. “Right… these are going to be a problem.”

She held up the shirt, then used one claw to cut two neat holes in the back for her wings. Sliding it on, she wiggled her wings through the openings. “There. Not exactly fashion week material, but it works.”

A short while later, she stumbled across a hooded cloak hanging from a skeletal corpse slumped in a chair. To her surprise, the fabric was in decent condition. She tugged it free and swung it over her shoulders, fastening the clasp at her neck. 

“Finally. Something to make me look at least slightly dramatic.”

She made sure that she could hide her wings under the cloak just in case, and the result made her very happy.

Along the way, she pocketed a few coins from the more intact corpses. “Not that I know what the currency is here, but hey—money’s money.”

By the time she reached what had once been the castle’s main hall, her makeshift outfit was complete. She stood in the middle of the cracked stone floor, cloak fluttering faintly in the draft, and let out a long breath.

“Well… I’m not dead, I’m dressed, and I have a giant scythe. Things are looking up.”

Her eyes swept across the ruined hall, noting the great doors at the far end. She slung the scythe over her back and stepped toward the door again, but halfway into the hallway, she stopped dead. The ruined stone corridor stretched on ahead, leading toward the faint daylight of the castle’s outer wall. For a heartbeat, she considered just leaving.

Then she scoffed. “Yeah, right. Walk into a new world without even fully looting the place? What kind of idiot am I?”

Truth was, there was a knot of nervousness in her gut. The forest outside looked quiet, but who knew what kind of monsters were lurking out there? Better to stall and pretend she was just being practical.

She explored room after room, pushing open warped doors, kicking aside debris. Most were empty, but here and there she found the remains of a battle—smashed furniture, rusted blades, and more skeletal bodies slumped in corners that are dressed in some sort of armor.

“Shit, this must’ve been one hell of a party,” she muttered, stepping over a cracked shield. In one room, she found a pouch of coins scattered across the floor. The metal was old, worn, but coins were coins. She scooped them up, tied the pouch to her belt, and kept moving.

She found a silver ring on a bony finger and pocketed it without a second thought. A small knife, dulled but still usable, went into her belt as well. She even picked up a tiny glass vial of dark powder, sniffed it, and recoiled.

“Ugh. Nope. No idea what that is. Keeping it anyway.”

Finally, she pushed open a set of rotting double doors and found herself in what had once been a grand hall. The ceiling was half-collapsed, sunlight streaming through in jagged beams. Vines snaked down from above, curling over the crumbled stone floor. At the far end, a massive balcony hung precariously over the forest below.

She stepped out, leaning on the railing. The view stretched for miles—endless green forest, distant mountains, and a thin trail of smoke curling into the sky far away.

“Well... that’s either a village or someone’s about to burn the place down,” she said to herself.

She stood there for a long moment, the wind tugging at her cloak. Her wings twitched restlessly, and she glanced down at her clawed hands. The sight of them still sent a thrill through her—part excitement, part disbelief. She stretched her wings out fully, the movement making the air shift around her, then folded them back with a grin.

“Yeah... I can work with this.”

After another quick look at the distant smoke, she turned back toward the hall. There were still a few rooms left to check before she left this place for good. And if she was lucky, maybe she’d find something even better than coins.

“Alright, Morgana,” she muttered. “One last sweep, then we go see what this world’s got for us.”

With a flick of her cloak, she disappeared back into the shadows of the ruined castle.