Prelude 1: Witch

 The moon shifted behind the grey sky, light peering through as the clouds sailed silently through the night. A gleam of silver flashed when the moonlight bounced off a wicked blade.

Curved sharp metal that tore into the night and a swift polished black wood that held it in place; my scythe sent shivers of terror to anyone who beheld it.

I stood there, a lone figure in an open field. There were no trees, nor houses, just the burnt twigs and scorched grass that stretched to the far ends of the field.

It was difficult to believe that this used to be a farm, filled with all sort of succulent fruit; now it resembled a bomb testing site, if nothing else. This was to be expected, of course, for nothing was safe from them.

Witches; spell wielding abominations that roamed the earth. Their sole purpose was to raise all sorts of havoc and bring about destruction. It was in their nature to destroy. This farm stood in the way of one and it suffered accordingly. Nothing could survive an encounter with a witch…except me.

My hood was pulled back, raven black hair whipping in the wind. I cursed my luck, from the chaos around me I was certain this caster would use fire spells…the wind would turn to her favour.

“You seem tense” My scythe said

“You can’t feel it, can you” I asked

Having a conversation with my weapon might have been a cause for alarm, but not for me.

My scythe is no ordinary metal. It is a demon weapon; a person with the ability to turn into weapon of incredible power. It is slightly ironic though, because demon weapons were made by witches, and now their very creations were being turned against them.

“Feel what?” Soul, as my scythe’s human form was called, asked.

“The witches’ soul” I grimaced, my whisper lost in the passing breeze.

I could sense it. It was like standing next to a roaring flame, I could feel the scalding intensity, threatening to burn me if I moved just a step closer.  Not everyone was gifted with my ability to perceive souls, and now I wished I was one of them.  The witch was drawing closer, a malicious sun in the dead of the night. My senses were screaming at me, “RUN AWAY” they yelled, but my duty kept me rooted.

“She’s here!” I whispered, crouching into a low stance, ready to move or dodge, and moment’s notice.  I tightened my grip on Soul, feeling the smooth material under my finger tips, it felt like metal; yet the weapon was perfectly light that I could wield it with ease.

The footsteps could be heard now, rubber on dry sand. My heart beat quickened as I paced my breath. My eyes focused, trying to penetrate into the darkness. The clouds were shielding the moon again, limiting my vision. The wind and the darkness…it was as if fate were trying to get me killed.

“It seems I am expected” a coy voice spoke. It was whimsical, as if the words were sung, yet heavy, weighed down with a slight bass.

The clouds passed, the moon shone, and the witch was thrown into sharp relief.

“Warlock!” I gasped.

For it was no witch, he was a warlock. A very rare exception seeing as magic only travelled into women. No one was certain as to how Warlocks came to be, each speculation was as wild and improbable as the last, yet the common thing all agreed upon was that Warlocks were dangerous.

His eyes glowed with a yellow aura; I could see the magic dancing behind them. His skin was a rich brown, short white hair swaying the breeze. His build was slim, flowing robes of scarlet and gold were draped around his body. He looked both angelic and terrifying at the same time.

“Is that him?” Soul asked, his voice threatened with over confidence. “We can take him!”

I was afraid of this. Soul, having no talent for soul perception, tended to judge his opponents on look rather than feel. If he could feel the over whelming aura emanating from our opponent, I’m sure he wouldn’t be so confident.

“Be prepared” I warned him.

“Are you going to try to kill me?” The warlock asked, his voice perfectly innocent, yet an evil smile played on his lips. “I hope, for your sake, you don’t!”

“I’ll worry about myself thanks!” I spat.

“Your funeral” he sang “though it would be rather distasteful to kill a girl…perhaps, if your friend could fight me while you run along…” His eyes narrowed with insolence.

“Bastard!” I hissed. My muscles tensed.

“Take him out before he gets a chance to call o n his magic!” Soul advised.

Heeding his words, I tore across the field, closing the distance between the warlock and myself in seconds. I brought Soul to the side and cut across in a wide arc. The chances of getting a hit with such a sweeping attack were slim, but it showed me how he would react.

The warlock took a careful step backwards, avoiding the hit with minimum effort; his hands were a light with golden flames.  “Burn!” he said, in venomous hiss.

The fire leapt from his hands and clung onto my scythe. Soul let out a howl of pain. I spun the scythe overhead throwing off the flames as it whistled in the silver night.  I then brought it down in a deadly slash threatening to cut the warlock in half.

Again he dodged smoothly, this time a calculated hop to the side. Soul smashed into the ground, the blade sinking several feet underground. 

“You must try better than that” The warlock said silkily. He was toying with us.

I heaved Soul from the ground and pivoted on spot; throwing the entire force into the scythe. 

A deathly shrill sang as it sliced through the air.

The warlock this time didn’t move, his eyes closed as his death came shrieking at him. My attack connected.  Yet, something was odd.

“Is that all?” He taunted, peeping from one half-closed eye. His expression seemed…bored. He was holding the sharp edge of the blade with his bare hand; the attack didn’t even break his skin.

I quickly pulled Soul out of harm’s way and retreated several steps back. Brute strength would do little over here.

“What now?” asked Soul, his voice seemed shaky.

“Resonance!” I replied in an undertone. “Ready?”

As a reply, I felt a burst of energy shot through me, charging every cell in my body. I smiled as I relished this power, and sent my own wave of force into Soul; amplifying his. The feedback was instantaneous. My body felt weightless yet extremely durable. I focused my thoughts on my prey.

The warlock was staring at us with an appearance of awe and disregard. It was unnerving.

“Wipe that smirk of his face!” Soul growled.

I bounded forward, my scythe now glowing with a blue energy; a shining crescent azure moon in the field of darkness.

“FALCATE SLICER!” I screeched as I swung my scythe in a beheading strike; a trail of blue was left in the wake as Soul tore the midnight.

My blade felt no resistance this time; it was like slicing through air.

“Ha…” I breathed “stupid cocky bast…”

But my words were caught in my throat.

The warlock stood there, his whole body seemed to be burning with that same strange golden flame…no, he wasn’t burning…he was made out of it!

“How disappointing…” he sighed “I thought you were better than the rest”

“The rest?” I choked.

“Looks like there is nothing to be gained by keeping you alive”

He then stretched his blazing hand forward, palm facing me.

“Good bye” He smiled.

-to be continued-