The Swampwitch Last's Trial

The swamp had already taken my name, and I had bled into its murky waters. I had stumbled my way through the thick water until I found the Wyrdstone and faced madness and not given in to temptations. This was it, the final test to see if Mirefen Hollow would accept me or let me drown. I lay in the cold water, which I had now gotten used to through my travels. I felt the snarethorn vines wrapping around my wrists and snaking around my body as I took one last breath before being pulled down into the depths of the water. It was odd being pulled against the warm, humming Wyrdstone. The water was a lot warmer, and I could feel the ancient magic deep within my bones. I felt the last of my breath leave my body as I remembered Granny Lethka's words about staying still and calm. My body naturally started to breathe in the water; it stung my lungs and burned my eyes, making my vision fuzzy. I knew this was what drowning felt like, but it was oddly peaceful. I wasn't sure how long I lay bound to the Wyrdstone before I started to hear whispers and see figures moving in the water. I was beyond the normal time it took to drown; I knew that much. My heart started to race, but I forced myself to stay calm as the wispy figures came closer, their whispers growing louder, as if they were right by my ears. One tried to reach out as its voice murmured about becoming a part of the swamp in my ear, but it hissed instead as a magical barrier kept it at bay. The Wyrdstone was clearly protecting me, and I realised its magic was also the reason I hadn't drowned, but instead was in a constant state of drowning.