My Story Is...

Voice of Nature: Photo


The product of a coffin birth, Ostara was born from death, the unborn foetus expelled from her mother’s womb hours after her burial had taken place and the unfortunate pregnant woman had been laid to rest. It was by sheer luck, that the lonely caretaker of the old cemetery had heard her distant cries from beneath the freshly turned soil as she slipped into darkness. A coffin death was rare in itself but for a child to survive such a thing? Unheard of, impossible. Except, that it what happened. From that moment on, Ostara was destined to walk between the veil of life and death, stuck between two worlds yet belonging to neither.


Mortal eyes were never meant to glimpse the things that Ostara was exposed to from the moment she drew breath. Spectres and demonic forces plagued the child from infancy for she was a beacon of light in their otherwise dark world and slowly, the girl was driven to the brink of madness by the time she was barely old enough to walk. The people of her village, her father included, were terrified of the child whose birth was considered unholy, an affront to the natural order, the girl who held whispered conversations with the walls and ripped her own strands of hair from their roots.

After a particularly violent and frightening episode, the townspeople could bare the strange girl’s presence no longer and to save her from execution on the charge of witchcraft, her father stole the child away before abandoning her at the Silent Sisters, a temple nestled deep in the Orisha woods. The forest was the last refuge of those who did not fit into the fringes of society or normalcy, a place outsiders rarely tread for fear of their lives and mortal souls. Those that lived here worshipped a collection of night and death deities.


Ostara as a child.


Ostara was raised by the three oracle sisters who ran the temple, each having taken a vow of silence as well as the forced removal of one of their senses- Nuami lacked vision for she had blinded herself, Zoya had removed her own tongue whilst Ana, the youngest of the trio kept her ears plugged with hot wax. She grew up alongside a cluster of other children who were abandoned in similar circumstances due to their special abilities or appearances.

It was the Silent Sisters that brought Ostara back from the edge of insanity, teaching her how to traverse through the world of darkness in which she lived. Each bestowed the child with a gift to help guide and protect. Nuami spent many hours twisting and teasing Ostara’s hair, brittle and patchy in places, until it formed thick braids and dreadlocks that could not be easily wrenched from their roots, by the demons that plagued her and by the girl herself for it had become a habit, a coping mechanism. From Zoya’s hands, silver rings were crafted, imbued and engraved with protective runes that could aid Ostara in defending herself against psychic and spiritual attacks.



Symbolising her ability to see beyond  the veil of life and death, Ostara was born with a mismatched gaze, her left eye a pale pastel blue hidden behind a ivory haze that often misleads people into believing she has limited vision or is completely blind, the right a raven coloured abyss of darkness, devoid of light and colour.

A similar comparison between light and dark can be made when observing her mass of braids and dreadlocks, a medley of colours ranging from silver, pearl and grey to black, burgundy and earth toned browns, the thick woven ropes often decorated brightly coloured string. Ostara keeps her locks restrained in this way due to the habit formed in childhood of tugging and pulling her hair out.




Zayani (Coming soon)