I want a story detailing the events of the life of

I want a story detailing the events of the life of the character Morgana. Morgana is a character I wrote whilst worldbuilding, and while I’m quite proud of my ability to world-build, I can’t say the same of my ability to write. Essentially, I’ll give you the lore and events in order and I want a longer and more detailed 3rd person account of Morgana’s life in return. Please add dialogue and side characters if need be. The lore is as follows: Centuries before present day, on the largest continent in the western hemisphere, Cereza (Sare-Aye-Zah), many groups of women fled into the woods. See, on this continent’s most eastern coast, there were many settler towns established from this world’s central continent, Arnea. The settlers came to colonize the western mass that was Cereza and landed on Cereza’s eastern coast to begin that process. Life on these settlements was rough, and over the 50 years these settlements were growing and expanding on the east coast, a culture started to form around the rationing of resources. Women and children were only being fed the bare minimum and women were being treated like indentured servants to the men that brought them from Arnea to the settlements. More and more restrictions were placed on women. What they could learn, what they could say, what they could do, how they could dress, and where they could sleep. The initial deprivation of food was most likely brought on by the conclusion that the workers and builders should be getting a bigger cut of the food, but this quickly developed into a deprivation of basic human necessities as the idea shifted from food conservation to a class difference. This led to women from many of the settlements to escape to try to make lives for themselves inland, away from the coasts. They ran to the deep forest of the Cerezan inlands, feeling the trees and difficult would hide them from their oppressors. Though many were found, even more were able to rip themselves from the clutches of the men who had been oppressing them. It was really hard at first to survive in the forests, but it slowly became easier women learned to trust the nature and wildlife around them. They would follow the migration patterns of the fauna to always be able to keep warm and would watch which berries the animals would eat and avoid, learning which were poisonous. Because of the animals helping them discern what was safe to eat, and the trees protecting them from their oppressors, the groups that survived the longest started to really value and respect nature and the forest. This respect of the forest on top of the fact that the women were typically in small groups or by themselves and trying to hide and stay moving, meant that they naturally lived nomadically. Then they began to find each other. many women fled from many of the settlements at different points on the coastline hundreds of miles apart. This meant that the first women to escape were either alone, in pairs, or in small groups and were unaware of the truly vast number of women who did run alongside them. But now they were finding each other because the women who were able to survive the harsh forest and followed migration routes for warmth started following the same routes. This led to them meeting each other unexpectedly and realizing truly how many of their kin had survived. These larger groups came to be called “Sisterhoods”, and it marked the beginning of some of Cereza’s most eventful years. Once these sisterhoods formed, the small group, pair, or individual that joined first was to be its leader and pass down all of their knowledge. Sisterhoods didn’t really have “leaders” in the traditional sense of the word. They just had these mother-like roles within each sisterhood that was dedicated to the teaching of the younger or newer members of a sisterhood. When the sisterhoods first formed, and knowledge of how to survive the forests as well as little traditions from each woman’s home settlement were all mingled and mashed into one. This added a deep sense of community into their already nature-focused culture. With there now being large sisterhoods of 50 to a hundred women per sisterhood, they couldn’t just roam nomadically without much organization anymore. They needed a way to communicate silently, secretly, and while remaining hidden. The largest sisterhoods came together and created a runic language inspired by the knots and twists from the sewing techniques they learned back on the settlements. Using sewing techniques to make the runes was good for many reasons. One, being that new women who had recently escaped from a settlement could derive meaning from them and could use them to survive long enough for a sisterhood to find them and take them in. And two, men from the settlements wouldn’t know what they meant. The runes allowed sisterhoods to silently communicate on trees and stones and tell each other where the best fishing or foraging spots are by leaving markings for others to find. They could also warn others of danger and mark the entrances and exits of the territories of sisterhoods. The women also came together and created Pegan faiths, by mixing all the beliefs of each group in a sisterhood. This sparked countless rituals shared through the runes. To outsiders though, this seemed scary and different. When men from the settlements would venture into the woods, they’d find these strange runes straw dolls and assume the worst. Nobody outside of a sisterhood knew what they meant, so rumors of devil-worshipping women in the woods began to spread. And as settler women would venture out to forage and go missing, the settlers started blaming these apparent demon worshipping women. The settlements all over the coast quickly learned of these women and titled them “witches”, the word “witch” coming from the settlers’ word for deserter, “wiitchidia”. The sisterhoods, after hearing of this gladly accepted the name and used it as a point of pride. Taking an insult from their oppressors and turning it into a source of strength. During the religious practices of the Helen sisterhood, the magic system of this world was accidentally discovered by some witches who were praying for a fuller harvest of berries in the coming autumn months. They discovered that a powerful will, when accompanied by ritual and ceremony, can actually affect the real world. Like getting on your knees and praying every day for a fuller harvest or more rain while creating small shrines can actually make those things happen. It was 13 years after this discovery that Morgana’s story began.

With fear for witches already building, there couldn’t be a greater catalyst for what comes next than their discovery of witchcraft. Turns out that intense enough will, with clear intention and narrow scope, can actually affect the physical world, manifesting within the physical world in the form of the caster’s desire. As this power became more well known among the Sisterhoods, and witchcraft developed, witches thrived. They were finally able to build permanent shelters, no longer having to hide as they could simply want not to be found and suddenly pursuers would lose their way in the thick forest, never journeying deep enough to find them. They’d engrave incantations out of the woven runes that disorient passer-bys and place them in the trees in a perimeter around their homes. They’d use witchcraft to create potions that heal and soothe, and grant clear vision in darkness. But most importantly, they’d share. Practices were and methods were shared between sisterhoods, making witchcraft more efficient and powerful as more young witches learned and added to it. Their structured rituals allowed for a clear distinction between the power of will in the hands of the average person and the power of will in the hands of a witch. Because of how similarly all witches utilized the power of will, residuals form many different, unrelated incantations pooled together. Attracted by what made them similar.

See in this universe will is merely one of the 14 fundamental elements that make up the universe. It’s what allows matter to make choices and move in unpredictable ways. It is a key ingredient for life. It is ethereal and floats about on the ethereal plane, formless and weightless. But when enough of it pools together in one spot, it can seep into the fabric of the physical plane, and make things happen. Without will, matter couldn’t choose where to go and there would be no life. It is will that allows an arm to reach for a door, or a heart to grieve a loved one. Will is motivation, and without it energy would never be spent. It would just aimlessly build without intention. But with will that energy gains purpose in the flap of a butterfly’s wings, or happy sob of new mother lovingly staring down at their newborn child. Without will, the universe would be nothing, but aimless potential. Will has a few properties, and it is a simple element, but these basic functions not only dictate the world we live in but allow it to exist as we know it to begin with. Firstly, will attracts will. The more will pools in an area, the greater the rate of the pooling becomes. Secondly, similarity of intention is what decides how will pools together. For instance, if there were a pool of will engrained with the intention to flee, and another pool of will with the intention to move quickly, they’d combine into a pool of will with the intention to flee quickly. Practically, that would look like two witches being discovered by a settler, with only one wanting to actually run away. One would cast an incantation to flee while the other may want to grant themselves the speed to evade harm but not necessarily run away. These two burst of will, if equally intense, would fuse into one intention and would grant superior speed as well as automatically move both witches away from the threat despite only one wanting to have fled. This second property of will is what led to the creation of the “Wicken”. A pocket realm filled with the residual will of every single incantation ever cast by a witch. It grew stronger with every spell and gave witches the ability to tap into its wellspring of power from anywhere. Witches who were more skilled at the craft could even use this complex string of intentions and desires to decode incantations done in the past and learn them without having that caster there as a teacher. This connected all witches who took part in ritualistic casting and made it so that any and every witch any and everywhere could contribute to witchcraft. The Wicken gave rise to techniques like scrying, and its more advanced cousin, “Wicken reading”. These techniques allowed sisterhoods to locate fellow witches and threats from incalculable distances. As witches became more powerful, they became more plentiful and were no longer at the mercy of the settlers. The original women who fled are getting older at this point and the kids they brought with them, like Morgana, are becoming old enough to lead. Things are changing and everyone can sense it.

The settlers started feeling more and more uneasy journeying into the forests out of a growing fear of Witches, and eventually stop all-together.

The evening sun painted the horizon in shades of gold, casting a warm glow over the dense Cerezan forest. In a small clearing, a young girl named Morgana sat cross-legged, her eyes focused on a patch of earth. Her dark hair, tied back in a loose braid, fluttered gently in the cool breeze. Her mother, Helen, watched from a distance, a proud smile playing on her lips. Morgana’s slender fingers danced over the soil, weaving an intricate pattern of sticks and leaves. This was her first attempt at the ancient art of rune-casting, a skill passed down from the original settler women who had sought refuge in the forest’s embrace.

“You have a natural talent, Morgana,” Helen called out, her voice echoing softly through the trees. “Most take years to understand the flow of energy in such a way.”

Morgana looked up, her emerald eyes sparkling with excitement. She beamed at her mother’s praise, her cheeks flushing with the warmth of a job well done. The runes she had just cast glowed faintly with a green hue, the mark of her burgeoning power. As she stood, her simple, earth-toned dress made from woven grasses and leaves rustled against her legs. The fabric was adorned with delicate stitching, each thread a silent testament to the hours of patience and skill that had gone into its creation.

Her aunt Lysandra emerged from the foliage, her laughter like the tinkling of a brook. Her fiery red hair was a stark contrast to the muted tones of the forest, and her eyes held the same warmth as the setting sun. “Morgana,” she called out, her voice a delightful melody that filled the air, “dinner waits for us by the creek!”

Morgana nodded eagerly, her gaze still fixed on the glowing runes. She took a moment to memorize their configuration before they faded into the earth. “Coming, Aunt Lysandra,” she said, her voice carrying the promise of excitement and discovery. As she turned to leave, she called back to her mother, “I’ll go ahead. Meet you there!”

With a grace that belied her sixteen winters, Morgana darted off, her bare feet barely disturbing the carpet of leaves beneath her. She knew the forest like the back of her hand, each twist and turn of the path leading her closer to the comforting sound of the creek. The scent of roasting meat and the aroma of herbs filled the air, a tantalizing invitation to end the day’s lessons and share in the warmth of the sisterhood’s embrace.

Helen watched her daughter disappear into the foliage before turning to her sister. “Lysandra,” she began, her voice a mix of pride and concern, “Morgana’s power is growing stronger every day. She’s a natural healer, and her connection to the earth is unparalleled.”

Lysandra leaned in closer as her sister continued. “but..?” she asked, her eyes searching Helen’s for any hint of doubt.

Helen sighed, her smile fading. “But what if it’s too much for her? The weight of leading the sisterhood, the expectations…”

“Stop, Helen.” Lysandra warned, interrupting her sister. “She’s YOUR daughter. Not his, not Victor’s. Yours. She can handle anything this messed up world can throw at her. And more. You have nothing to worry about Helen. When the time comes she won’t fold like he did. Cowardice isn’t hereditary.”

Helen nodded solemnly, her eyes never leaving the path Morgana had taken. “You’re right,” she murmured, “but I can’t shake the feeling that the forest is… changing.”

Lysandra frowned. “Changing? In what way?”