Heir to the Throne

The Gods Have Their Own Laws
Location: Far End of the West Wing, The Schwartzweld Weathing: This Tag

Katrine had walked almost seven thousand steps today without having discovered a new part of her home. The Schwartzweld was enormous, a city with the walls of a single castle, new wings and sections added to it by generations of Van-Dervelds. It was the heart of the lands, the beating twisted and possibly even manic with the amount of insanity that had woven into it through countless records of inbreeding.
The Schwartzweld was a world within the world, a monument to the legends of the Lupine overlords. The humans still here perhaps never thought they would see the day when a Van-Derveld came home, but deep down, Katrine knew it was not the humans she should have worried about at all. There was a darker presence within these walls, buried by madness and chaos that ruled in their hearts. The ancestors of Figaro Favours VII, tethered to this earthly existence, grew madder than they ever were, festering in their thoughts, alone in the rumbles of the ruined parts of their home.
She, a relatively young woman still, of long black hair and sapphire blue eyes, was a descendant of one of the oldest Lupine families of this world. She was the cub of Ket Van-Derveld himself, the second daughter of the second son. She was the blood of the old wolves, blood amplified by her Wiccan mother, of ancient origins – a Dathomir and Mandragora madwoman. Katrine was blood of wolves and magic; she was born pure, of Lupine parents. Curupira wasn’t just her father’s mate; she was Lupine reborn in a future distant from now. Katrine had suspected, but never confirmed, that she was more pure Van-Derveld than generations before her. She was Van-Derveld through and through, with her father being the nearest source of Lupine DNA to help her mother’s rebirth.
Katrine was truly Van-Derveld, in the most ancient and noble ways.
Yet, the spirits festered and mumbled in the back of her mind.
Something was amiss, the First Mother of the Spirits knew. And she didn’t need them telling her this, though the whispers from the three spirits warning her to stay clear were warning enough. Katrine was no longer a child; she was a mother to her cub. She could not permit the malicious sensation to stay.
Either they would make peace, or they would go.
This was her home.
“Mae?” Larentia’s little voice called from behind her. “Go to Papu, baby girl,” Katrine called back, glancing behind her into the dark hallway. Just then, she felt a soft brush to her cheek, like the side of a claw passing over her skin. The woman turned abruptly, sapphire gaze surveying ahead. She couldn’t see anyone. “I know you’re there.”
It was the ichor, infused with her blood, that itched beneath her skin.
Silence fell.
“Did you hear me? Show yourself,” she demanded. Perhaps not, Jart cautioned. “I demand you show yourself.” Katrine ignored the spirit and moved ahead, fingers wrapping against the handle. Doashim roared from the depths of her mind, ready for a fight. “Settle,” she whispered to the beast within, turning the doorknob. It gave no resistance until she pushed it open. The doors swung shut violently, feeling like a strong gust of wind which pushed Katrine too, making her fall to the floor. She huffed as her behind hit the rubble beneath.
Something had stopped her from entering.
And Katrine was not happy.