Tara Geonette allowed herself a smile. She exhaled slowly and enjoyed the moment.
The dead thrall stood in front of her, ready for command. What had been his name?
Mordard. Yes, that was it.
He’d told her she had “flaming hair of passion” and “the deepest emerald eyes I’ve ever seen”.
That first date had not gone as he expected, she thought. At least he died looking into her emerald eyes.
Tara pointed and commanded. He was clumsy at first, but quickly, her newest thrall was gathering various fungus from around the cave and bringing them to her cooking station.
Good. Another servant. And another guard to protect her while she slept.
Now, perhaps, she could practice in peace. Away from the coven. Away from everyone, until the time was right.
While Mordard gathered, Tara stepped outside the small cave she’d turned into a home.
Masser rose high in the sky, leaving the night bright and shimmering.
She looked out over the rocks and trees. The cave was small, just the one room, and a partial tunnel she could keep supplies in. Moonlit Maw wasn’t too far away. She’d have preferred to reside there, but a cult of Supernal Dreamers, worshippers of Vaermina, had taken it over, and Tara had no interest in them, or whatever it was they were up to.
No, her cave would do. Smaller, higher up, so less likely to be discovered. She’d arranged, well, had her thralls, arrange large boulders around, to make the entrance even harder to spot.
She looked southwards, towards home. What had been home. The family farm outside of Wayrest.
Farming. Had her parents really expected her to want to be a simple farmer? Even after the great potential she’d shown with magic at a young age?
They were afraid of you. Of your magic.
No matter. The Glenmoril Witches had taken her in. She’d learned so much from them.
I’ll always be grateful, she thought.
But the Wyrd had rules. And rules were too binding.
Why had she trusted any of them? Why had she told Asteria of her dreams? Her desires?
No matter. They wouldn’t find her here.
Besides, she didn’t worship Hircine, as they did. She’d only joined because of what they could teach. She’d learned much, but not everything she needed.
My path is not theirs, she thought.
She let her eyes settle on Wayrest. The city’s lights stood out. The farm was too dark to see from here, even on this bright night, but Wayrest shown like the star it was.
She needed to think up a new disguise. Couldn’t risk anyone recognizing her on her next trip there.
She didn’t need any more enamored men to turn into thralls.
The next trip would be for finding recruits. Those interested in her dreams. Her desires.
She had her own coven, no, her own cult, to form.
A moan escaped from Mordard. He must have finished gathering.
Time to get back to business. Tara turned and headed back into her cave.