Into the Blight Wood

6th of Autumn YSTR 115

Deep in the Evermoor swamp lies an isle, standing solitary in the muck. Dark and shaded, overgrown with twisting and gnarled trees along its shore. The day brings long shadows that block any who look through the tightly wound branches, but the night brings a ghostly bloom.

Legends say the haunting haze cast through the branches are will o'wisps. Soul of those taken by The Blight that forever haunt The Heart of The Blight. Though that’s fairy tales meant to keep folk out. To most the truth is far less interesting, leaving the stories no matter how unsettling far more appealing.

Those brave enough however would find the isle is as beautiful as it is ominous. Mossy loose stone paths winding through the trees. Dotted along the path, if you know just where to look you’ll see the skeletons of decaying wooden structures pulled back towards the earth by brambles and ivy. Once the homes of the long-ago druids that called this isle home, the rotting structures reclaimed by fungi and bugs of all kinds. Returning old life to the dirt to make way for the new.

All around, from the leaves in the lowest trees to mushrooms and ferns on the ground almost every bit of life under the cover of the canopy above radiance. Blues and greens and the occasional purple left what would be another wise near pitch black space aglow in a ghostly twilight. The occasional unlit torch was mounted to poles in places the natural sunshine would not reach, smeared with goop that made it glow like a lightning bug, with momentary ebbs and flows in the light.

The dim lit path snaked its way through the forest, the vegetation slowly beginning to dwindle becoming patchy and more sporadic, the land slowly starting to angling every so slightly down hill as the path of stone ends and only packed dirt remains. The land slowly returned in appearance to the land outside The Witch Wood.

Sitting alone in this lowland is a small house, barely bigger than a shack. Raised high above the flood line on a combination of stilts and the remaining sawn trunk of a quite large tree. Though calling it a shack would be a disservice. Despite its small size the lofted building had a long flight of stairs that led to a porch that wrapped around the entire perimeter of the rustic home. A small stone chimney breathing small wisps of smoke. And below a black cauldron sat on the earth suspended over a crude fire pit.

Inside was a cosy interior. Several lengths of twine stretched from one side of the room to the other near the fireplace meant for hanging herbs, roots, and mushrooms to dry. A small box sat in the corner filled with bits of bark and twigs to kindle a fire, next to that was a small pile of firewood. The room was otherwise very spartan, only a bed with a quilt and a table with one chair finished the decor of the room. All that stood out was the chair having one leg replaced with a tree branch, likey having broken at some point and this was the best solution, the quilt an unremarkable patchwork of colours in no specific order or square size, making it uneven and lopsided.

Those not used to it would likely be sickened at worst, put off at best by the herbal smell of the interior. A mix most wouldn’t be accustomed to, or likely to smell in their lives at all. Though the sole resident would likely feel the same as they would if the aroma suddenly vanished.

Ingrid however was very much at home in this place. Inhospitable to most for more than a day or some, to most besides herself changes would begin. In the heart of it all The Blight seemed to exist not only in the flora and fauna but in the air as well. Staying too long would cause lasting effects on a normal mortal's body. She however seemed to have some immunity or supernaturally high tolerance due to her odd state of being.

Her odd nature provided other benefits as well. She’d never become ill after consuming a mistaken plant, and insects seemed to bother her less than most people. Ingrid had lived in this place for longer than anyone knew or likely ever would know. Helping those that managed to find their way to her, in cases where doctors could be of no help. A cure for The Blight being the most oft sought cure.

Despite many seeing and speaking with her, it’s still widely debated how real she is, if she is one person, or a ghost. Who knows, maybe someone will have to find out.